32. Commentary
32
Commentary
Victor appreciated me naked with messy makeup, so it didn’t matter if he saw me bare-faced in comfy pajamas. He said he liked all of me. That meant he’d like me in anything. I put on plaid shorts and a hooded long-sleeved tee with thumb-cutouts.
Unfortunately for my skin-contact-craving self, he changed into his pants and button-down shirt despite my generous offer to loan him my fuzzy black bathrobe. We cuddled on the bed while he scrolled through the streaming library on my little TV. About five minutes later, he still hadn’t picked anything.
I rubbed my face on his arm and yawned. “I thought you liked movies.”
“I do,” he said.
“So why are you taking eight thousand years to pick something?”
He frowned at the screen. “I was thinking.”
I giggled and hugged him. “You’re so weird.” It was undeniably charming. “What are you thinking about?”
“Um, nothing.” He picked a horror movie. “Happy?”
Sort of. “I thought you said you liked think-y movies.”
He shrugged. “I can think about horror movies.”
That was true, but this was a B-movie at best. Not exactly prime for dissecting character and themes.
I side-eyed him. “You picked this for me.”
“Maybe.” He smiled, his cheeks tinged pink.
Oh my god, he was blushing. My spider man was a secret softie. I wrapped myself tighter around him. “So, what were you thinking?”
He sighed and vaguely gestured to the TV. “I was weighing which movie would be the best for our mutual interest and casual viewing.”
“You mean since I’m so chatty?” I teased.
He shrugged and bit the inside of his cheek, clearly fighting another smile.
“Well, you’re right,” I said. “This movie is going to come with full commentary.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” he said, but he texted someone during the opening credits. A woman, based on the icon. It was probably his sister.
Victor: Come see me at the theater tomorrow.
Yep. Probably just craving a visit from his sister. Or an old friend. He wouldn’t be private messaging another girl while cuddled up with me.
I scratched his side. “The movie’s starting.”
“I know. I started it.” He set his phone by his leg and focused on our cuddle-movie combo.
The movie slid into a scene with a faux-idyllic suburban family.
“Oh, but there’s a ‘bad kid,’” I noted. “You can tell because they wear plaid.”
He snorted. “Is that the giveaway?”
I nodded. “And the unwashed hair.”
“Oh. I thought that was reflecting their mental state.” His gaze slipped from the screen to his phone.
“Plaid is a gateway fabric,” I joked, nudging him with my knee. “They tend to make the punk kid a pot-smoking, pill-swallowing kleptomaniac. But they also have sex, so, plus for them.”
“In a horror movie, that can get you killed,” he murmured.
“Yes, but that’s mostly if you’re not careful. I’ve seen a few now where the 'bad kid' repents and lives.”
He brushed his thumb across my leg. “Were you the ‘bad kid’ in your family?”
“Yeah.” I laughed. As if any of us was bad.
He tilted his head and tugged on my shorts. “You wear plaid.”
“I…” Well damn. I hadn’t expected him to psychoanalyze me like that. “I guess. I’ve tried pot, but I didn’t like it. It made me too relaxed, so then I got anxious, which is kind of the opposite of the point of it. I think my parents were more annoyed when I pierced my ears with a safety pin because, hello, infection, and I was always fighting with my sister.”
“The older one,” he clarified.
“Yes,” I said. Tori was too sweet to fight. Plus, she’d cry, and no one wanted that.
He stroked my thigh. “What did you fight about?”
“Um, everything. We could fight about the day of the week. Once, we had a slap-fight over who was breathing too loudly.”
He chuckled and squeezed my leg. “I happen to like it when you pant in my presence.”
Chest tightening, I pinched his side. “What about you, Mr. Prankster? Were you the ‘bad’ kid?”
He raised his shoulder. “I suppose, in comparison.”
“You just have one sister, right?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice even.
“Older?”
He nodded and trained his half-lidded gaze on the screen.
Okay, he wasn’t giving much here. “What did you two fight over? Did you prank her with spiders or anything?” I wiggled my fingers against his stomach.
He snorted and stilled my hand. “My sense of humor isn’t for everybody, but we rarely had reason to squabble. Occasionally, she got on me about math homework, and I’d call her annoying, or we’d accuse each other of hogging the good TV.”
“So, nothing your parents were overly concerned about?”
He twisted his bangs. “They’re therapists. There’s always something for them to care about.”
“Oh, shit,” I blurted.
He frowned. “What?”
Awkwardness paralyzed me. I scrambled for a better response. I didn’t mean to smack talk his parents or imply anything bad. But that had to be hard, always being analyzed. Maybe that was why he was close-lipped about his family situation and most other aspects of himself. “It…kinda explains why you’re so into think-pieces,” I said.
“Huh. Perhaps.” He cuddled back in.
Phew. Crisis averted. Yet thirty seconds later, I found myself pawing at him and asking, “So, what does your sister do? What’s she like?” Was she closer to Jennifer or Tori on the personality spectrum?
He sighed and turned so he was half on top of me. I giggled from the increased pressure.
“I think we should stick to movie commentary,” he said.
Heat flooded my face. “Oh, sorry.” I didn’t realize I was prying. Or maybe family stuff was too real for a fuck buddy.
One of the characters in the movie scoffed, asking another one, “Why are you like this?”
Because I loved him. Because I wanted to know everything.
I smothered my needy urge to claw into his brain and heart. I knew enough. Wasn’t that what he said earlier?
“I’ll try to stop asking questions,” I said. "Especially about your family." It was half an apology. ‘Please don’t be mad that I care.’ How messed up was that? I couldn’t tell if it was better or worse than almost fucking him before I knew his name.
He shifted to study me. The blue TV screen barely glimmered in the dark reflection of his gaze. “My sister's smart. She builds tech,” he said. “I can’t really talk about it.”
“Oh, top secret stuff.” Was that it?
“Very private.” He nudged my nose with his, a breath away from a kiss.
I had to stop caring about random stuff like his sister and his childhood. None of it mattered that much, right? I’d still love him. He’d still want me. Maybe part of our attraction was rooted in a balance between knowing one another intimately and the thrill of a mystery. I didn’t want to spoil anything.
A flick of black drew my attention to the right of the bed. Jinx peeked at us, his front two paws at the edge of the mattress. His ear twitched.
“Aw, Jinxy, I forgot to give you a treat. One second.” I scooted out of Victor’s arms. At least my cat communicated openly.
Jinx trilled a purr and rubbed against my leg as we headed to the kitchen.
Victor propped himself on his forearm. “Do you want me to pause this?”
“I’ll only be a minute.” I got Jinx one of his green stick treats from under the sink, then broke it in half over his bowl. “There you go, cutie. Thanks for helping me get lucky,” I joked, stroking his back as he dove in for a snack.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
AJ: Hey, hate to bother you on your day off, hope all is well
Oh, god. AJ never texted me for fun. What was wrong?
AJ: Everything’s ok, I just want to let you know we didn’t get to everything during close. We tried, though.
What? This was our busiest season. We needed to stay on top of our tasks more than ever.
Me: What still needs to be done?
AJ: New inventory. Restocking all the sizes. We found a huge pile of discards in the dressing room and under the counter, so it took an hour to rehang and clean up
This would seriously set us back for tomorrow. I couldn’t go there myself and hang up clothes in the middle of the night.
Me: Why weren’t you hanging up clothes throughout the shift?
AJ: Bree tidied it before we left, but it must’ve gotten busy…
Or she’d dumped the clothes under the counter and took off under the pretense her work was done.
AJ: I can stay if you really need me to
A shadowed figure lurked in the doorway.
I gasped and clutched my phone. “Fuck.”
“Sorry.” My spider man crept into the light and pushed his bangs back.
I pressed my palm to my racing heart. “No, I’m sorry. I guess I’m used to being alone for the most part.”
Jinx looked up from his snack.
“Well, besides my guard cat,” I corrected.
Jinx resumed eating.
Victor leaned against the doorway and jerked his chin at my phone. “Who were you texting?”
“Work.” I sighed and typed out a message. “Apparently, I’ll have a lot to do tomorrow.”
Me: Go home. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.
AJ: Thanks, boss [thumbs up emoji]
“Mmm.” He audibly swallowed, his gaze dim on my cat. “If you’d rather I leave—”
“No!” I stopped short of launching myself at him. “I mean, no. You could even sleep over.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
I leaned against the fridge. “I have to open, so we can’t exactly sleep in, but I have enough cereal and milk for both of us.”
Jinx slid between my legs and licked his lips. He craned his neck to survey me and Victor. I smiled at him. At the word ‘milk,’ my cat was already prepping himself for the remnants of our breakfast.
“I don’t have my razor,” Victor demurred.
“You can use one of mine if you want. No pressure. I know this is last minute, so I’m not expecting you to—”
“Give me a moment.” He strode out of the room, leaving me and Jinx blinking at one another.
'What was that,' my cat seemed to ask.
'I don’t know,' I shrugged back.
The door clicked open and closed. Victor left?
What the fuck? Jinx and I hurried to my bedroom window to peek through the curtains. Victor was checking his car trunk. For what? A shovel? An ice pick? An ax? We had plenty of condoms here, so that wasn't it. He talked low on the phone to someone. Who was it? His parents? He could be letting them know he wouldn’t be home, although it kind of depressed me to think this grown-ass sexy man was shacked up with some judgmental therapists, if that was even what they were. Maybe he lived with his sister. I cracked open the window just enough to make out his voice.
“You’ll be fine. And if you’re not, you can call.” His shoulders sagged. “I really need this.”
My heart clenched. He needed me. Or at least an escape. Who was he talking to though? Was I even allowed to ask?
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He grabbed something dark and turned around, slamming the trunk shut. His eyes flashed with something brighter than the brake lights.
“Oh my god,” I hissed, ducking. Did he see I was spying on him?
His soft chuckle made my cheeks flush.
Well, if he hadn’t walked out, I probably wouldn’t have creeped on him at all. A normal person would say they were grabbing something from their car, and they’d be right back.
Whatever. We were in this now.
The door creaked open, then the lock snapped shut. Each deliberately slow step drove me wild with curiosity. What had he gotten from the trunk?
I cuddled Jinx into my arms and watched the hall for signs of my spider hunk.
His thin shadow touched the door frame before his long fingers curled around it.
Jinx purred, the vibrations rattling my chest just as much as Victor’s presence.
My man stroked the wood downward, making my thighs clench, then slipped into my room, tossing a black and blue uniform onto my dresser. “I am somewhat prepared,” he said.
“So, you’re sleeping over?”
“Yes.” He twisted open his shirt buttons and smirked at the cracked window. “Did you need some fresh air?”
“No.” I closed the window, but I still needed some answers.