I know I should leave. Lizzie is rolling her neck in time to the beat, her eyes closed. She has no idea of my presence as she mouths along to the lyrics.
Pour some sugar on me…She mimes, raising her arms above her head and swinging her ass. Come on, fire me up!
“L—” I open my mouth to get her attention but lose all verbal ability when she suddenly bends low, all of her perfectly curved ass on display. She throws her head back and her arms high and I can do nothing but watch.
I’m hot… Sticky sweet. From my head, to my feet, yeah…
She shifts from sexual sways of her hips to prancing about like a kid, without grace or care. Then, she’s punching the air like it’s some kind of workout before her hands are moving up her own body, her neck, and turning her once more into a siren of sin.
The whole time her eyes are closed, and she gives herself over wholly to the music, trusting in her own body.
I know I should leave. It seems an intrusion to be standing here, observing. Like listening in on someone singing in the shower—
“Oh my God!” Lizzie screams.
Oops. I’ve waited too long.
A flush sends Lizzie’s already warm cheeks into scarlet as she hurries for the couch. I rush to apologize. Though for what I don’t really know. It’s my house!
“Uh… I’m sorry— I—”
The room is plunged into an awkward quiet and the speaker, now in Lizzie’s hand, flashes red and then dies out completely. After the sheer volume of Def Leppard’s desperate need for a little sweetness, the silence is deafening.
I’m not a social person and not the best at talking with others at the best of times. But awkward doesn’t suit me. And I react in the only way I know how. I go on the offensive.
“You know you’re gonna scare off the animals, right? Do you know how a volume button works?”
Lizzie brushes a few strands of hair away from her face. She’s glistening with sweat and the locks try to stick and cling to her skin. They slide along her cheek and neck, desperate to touch her however they can.
“I’m sorry. I like it loud so I can’t hear my own breathing. Makes it a better workout…”
For the first time, I notice two large tins of soup and some exercise bands beside the rug. She must have been exercising and then using her dance as a cool down. This only serves to annoy me. Dancing might have cooled her down but it’s having the opposite effect on me.
“I’m not sure why… I think it’s a mental thing, you know?” She’s breathing heavily and it’s an effort to keep my eyes on her face. All that Lycra, so devout in its outlining of her breasts…
“Oh, it’s definitely mental,” I assure her. “Headphones?”
“Couldn’t find them,” she shrugs, almost entirely unapologetic. “I figured since you weren’t going to be home for a while—”
“You’d just make yourself right at home,” I snap.
For the first time since I’d found her in the woods, Lizzie is pulled up short. Her eyes flash with a color that looks suspiciously like hurt and she doesn’t have a glib reply waiting on the tip of her tongue. She doesn’t fight back. She simply bows her head.
“You’re right. I’m sorry, I should have—”
“No,” I interrupt her, hands rising to still her apologies. Shame is suddenly turning my belly far colder than my fingers ever were. “No, I’m sorry. That was harsh. Like… what have you actually done? Put out a bit of noise pollution and moved the couch—”
“Oh, I’ll put that back! I figured I’d have it all back before you—”
“—either way,” I talk over her again, hurried on by the look of worry on her face, the way she hastens to placate the asshole I’m being. “It’s not like it’s a big thing. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been a jerk. It’s… it’s been a long day.”
We stand quietly for a moment, neither of us knowing how best to shoehorn this situation back onto a friendlier ground.
“Did you get glued?”
I glance up at her. Lizzie’s hands are on her hips and her shoulders braced with a confidence that causes pretty little hollows just above her collarbone. They gleam with exertion and, for one insane moment, I wonder what it might be like to taste them. To pour over those little dips in her skin with my tongue and kiss the warmth beneath.
Realizing that she’s waiting for an answer, I have to shake myself out of it.