UNCOMFORTABLE
17
EIGHT YEARS AGO
Jack : Michael and I were supposed to go to the movies but he has a family thing and canceled.
Jack : Want to go out for drinks?
Nate : Again? Isn’t it like the third time he canceled on you in like two weeks?
Jack : Yeah.
Jack : Sucks, but it’s okay.
Jack : His grandmother has been sick for a little while.
Nate : I have something to do tonight, but I’ll meet you after.
Jack : Another girl?
Nate : Just handling a problem and helping someone out.
Jack : Is that what you call fucking someone’s brain out?
Jack : “Helping”?
Nate : Dude.
Jack : What? You’re being sketchy.
Nate : I’m not.
Nate : I’ll let you know as soon as I’m done.
Nate : Nuri’s working tonight, she can keep you company at the bar until I’m there.
NATE
It’s been bugging me all day. I don’t like this. I don’t like that I don’t like this . Jason Perkwood is not one to offer his help to a girl without having ulterior motives.
But now, he’s about to go and meet Prue.
In her room.
The both of them alone.
And I want to smash his head on a wall for it.
I’m not a violent person, but the last few months have been filled with threats. The first one to Dante, in late September, when he commented about her “fuckable ass” just as she was walking with Nuri to sit at a table in the dining hall. I threatened to drown him in swim practice if I ever saw him approaching her. Ever since that day, Jack and I had an understanding. Protect his sister at all costs. Mainly me, because Jack couldn’t scare a fly to save his fucking life, but I’ve been more than willing to help.
All those fuckers don’t deserve someone like her. And I fucking hate myself for the way she makes my heart miss a few beats every time she just smiles. Or walks in front of me. Or fucking breathes.
Because she’s Jack’s sister. And he saw me fuck my way through the last three years. He knows I don’t deserve her any more than those other assholes do. No matter that I haven’t been interested in fucking anyone since we came back in September, until now, mid December.
Fuck, what a mess.
And now, I’m sitting here, in the locker room, my gaze locked on Jason and his couple of dumb friends, listening and trying to figure out what I’ll do to stop it.
Simple threats won’t do. He might be younger but he’s bigger than me—I swear, that kid’s on steroids—and doesn’t look like he’ll scare easily with words alone.
So I wait. He’s supposed to meet her in fifteen minutes, and except for tripping him down the stairs, I’m not sure what to do.
“There’s a party at my house,” Twiddle Dee says, closing his locker. “Wanna come?”
“Maybe later. I’ve got plans tonight,” Jason answers with a grin that tells me he doesn’t plan on standing still for her to just draw, and I clench my fists.
“Oh right, I forgot!” Twiddle Dum chuckles. “Dude she’s so hot. Hard to believe she’s actually related to that fag that hangs with Nate. I mean the guy’s always limping, do you think it’s because of all the dicks he takes in his ass?”
I grit my teeth as they all laugh, holding myself back. There are three of them, and I could take them, having training in two different martial arts. But that would be a dumb move. Right now, my objective is to stop Jason from going up to her rooms. I can take care of Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee some other time.
“I know, right? But fuck, she’s so hot and I swear she’s taunting me with those tight jeans she wears. Girls can’t wear these with an ass like hers without knowing the effect it has on guys.”
“Well no, they can,” Tweedle Dum answers, closing his own locker and grabbing his backpack. “Just not with a body like that. She’s like a—a sexy wasp.”
I close my eyes, counting slowly to ten, controlling my breathing.
Jason, slaps the back of his head. “It’s called an hourglass figure. But fuck, how I want to hold on to those hips and fucking drive home,” he sighs.
Threats won’t be enough. I’m going to fucking kill that Jerk.
“We gotta go,” Tweedle Dee says, rolling his eyes. “Have a nice time.”
“Oh, that I will. Not wasting an opportunity like that, trust me.”
Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee leave the locker room chuckling, leaving Jason alone. With me. Good, I like those odds better.
As I said, I’m not a violent person. But what he said about her? Like she’s just some piece of ass to snack on and nothing else? I might finally put my years of Krav Maga and Ninjutsu to good use. My parents have lots of flaws, but my ex CIA father did want me to be able to fight and defend myself. And I can. Jason is just a spoiled brat who plays tough. He’s not really, though.
I stand up slowly, both my hands in my jeans pockets, and walk leisurely towards him, not trying to conceal my presence. He turns his head slightly, and surprise pulls at his face. It’s quickly replaced by a confused frown, though, as he turns his head back towards his open locker.
“Oh, what’s up Nate? Didn’t see you there.”
“Clearly.”
He focuses back on me. Is he sensing danger? He knows Jack’s my roommate and friend. And by association, Prudence is supposed to be too. His whole face transforms a little as he hides a wince when I stop a couple of inches from him.
He knows. He knows I heard that whole exchange between him and his friends. He knows he’s fucked.
“Look dude, we didn’t mean what we said about Jack. He’s cool, alright? We just think he should have a room of his own. Or with another dick lover. I mean, you can’t be okay with sharing a room with him. The guy obviously jerks off in there thinking of other dudes. Maybe even you.”
I lift a brow, my blue eyes clashing with his chocolate ones—is this fear in see there? “He doesn’t. Or if he does, he does it privately. You know he’s my friend, right? His sexual orientation doesn’t mean anything.”
“Sure. I know,” he nods, stashing his towel and wet bathing suit in a bag.
“And, you do realize that Prudence, his sister , is my friend too,” I pause and I see his throat bobs. “And that I can’t let you talk like this about the two of them.”
He might be bigger than me, but I still have a few inches over him. And I might not be bulky like him, but I’m far from being frail. Not forgetting the fact that everyone knows that I’ve been helping the Krav Maga coach every year on trials and competitions days. Wearing my Black belt.
“Look, and I mean that respectfully, but it’s none of your business. Prue invited me over, and she’s an adult.” He slams his locker shut and turns around to start walking away.
Before he can take his second step, I catch him by the collar of his jacket, and pull him back until his back meets the lockers in a loud metallic thud.
“What the fuck, man! Let go of me.”
“Please,” I say in a calm, deadly voice, “tell me again, to my face, how you can’t wait to fuck her. Even though you only offered your help with her sketching.”
“Let go!”
“Tell me!” I yell, getting in his face and pushing him roughly, making the whole locker block shake. His eyes snap close, his jaw clenched. “If you think for one second that I’m going to let you within an inch of her after hearing all this, you’re not only stupid, but delusional.”
He’s shaking, trying to push me away, but my hold on him is too strong and he can barely move. Even if he were to try for a cheap shot, my hips are moved to the side, protecting me from a knee kick, which I’m certain he’ll try, seeing as his legs are trying to move.
“Fucking stay away from her,” I continue, my voice low again. “And Jack, for that matter.”
“What are you, in love with them or something? Is that why you’re keeping guys away from her?” he grits out, and I dodge his arm trying to lash out at my face.
With a groan I turn him around, smashing his front against the lockers and holding his arms to his back with one hand as the other one grips the back of his head to push his face deeper against the rough metal.
“My reasons are my own,” I growl in his ear, not bothering to explain myself. “You just fucking listen to me and stay away. Or you won’t like what I’ll do to you. Here and now? Just a warning. You don’t go to her room, and you don’t fucking text her. And if I ever see you talk to her again…” I press his body harder, pulling on his hair before smashing it again on the metal locker door.
“Okay, okay!” he yells, keeping still. “I’m sorry! No piece of ass is worth that kind of trouble, just fucking let me go!”
I frown, and smash his head one more time a little harder. He grunts in pain. That will leave a mark. Good. A reminder of what’ll happen if he tries to get in her bed again.
“If you ever tell her—”
“I won’t! Jeez, I’ll fucking avoid her like the plague! I don’t even care, just let go of me!”
I step to the side, grabbing the back of his jacket to shove him away. He stumbles and barely avoids a collision with the bench in the middle of the room when he falls down. He stands up quickly, not stable on his feet, and runs out of the locker room without a backward glance.
I’m gonna have to keep an eye on him. The last thing I need is for that Jerk to go tell Prudence of our little encounter. I don’t mind Jack hearing about it though, as he’ll probably be glad that I took care of it.
I let myself fall heavily on the bench with a sigh.
What is that girl doing to me? I should be out with Jack, having drinks, doing what I was doing the last three years. Having sex. Not caring.
And here I am. Caring. Thinking about her, walking circles in her room while she waits for a guy who’s not going to show up. I saw her when he offered to model for her. She looked so happy. Hopeful. But not in the way she was hoping him showing up would turn to something more. In the way that she was happy to draw, to do something she loves and improve something she was struggling with. And that asshole was trying to take advantage of that. Thinking he would show up there, take off his shirt and it would lead up to them having sex.
Would it have? Was she interested in him in that way?
The thought makes my throat tighten and my stomach clench in knots.
And I want to punch myself in the fucking face for it.
I have no right to feel this way about her. Scaring jerks away from her is one thing, feeling jealousy is something entirely different. Something I’m not entitled to.
I check the time on my phone. She’s probably started pacing already, as he should have arrived in her room five minutes ago. She’s going to be disappointed. At least for not being able to practice.
I slide my hands in my hair nervously, pulling on the strands.
I should go.
I should step up. At least so she can sketch. Even if it’s not fucking Jerkwood. It doesn’t have to be him, does it? She said she was struggling with chest muscles. I have more than enough.
I stand up abruptly, cursing under my breath, my selfishness battling internally with my conscience, winning that particular battle.
I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m just stepping in to help her. Spending time alone with her for the first time ever is just a bonus. Jack doesn’t have to know, even though my conscience is saying that it would be a lie by omission. It’s not. He would misunderstand it for what it’s not; me trying to sleep with his sister. Which I’m not, I repeat to myself as I speed walk through the corridors, towards her dorm.
I don’t care that she’s beautiful. That her smile lights up the room. That her laugh makes my heart miss beats and her scent makes me want to rub my whole face in her neck and more. She’s fucking off limits.
I stop in front of her room, a little breathless and—fuck me—sweaty. I cast a glance around me and cringe. Why are all these girls just talking outside their rooms in the corridor? Why are they all staring at me like they’re going to rip my clothes to shreds?
I gulp, focusing back on the door and exhale slowly before knocking.
As soon as my knuckles hit the door, some of the girls stop chatting, their eyes drilling holes in the back of my head. Fuck. That’ll teach me to sleep around and make a reputation for myself… What if Prue knows about said reputation? What if she closes the door in my face because she thinks that I’m here for that? What if—
Why is she not answering her door? I’ve been standing here for at least two minutes, and I’m sure more girls have come out of their rooms to stare at me.
I clear my throat and knock again, a little harder.
Fuck, what if Jerkwood didn’t listen and came here? What if they’re—
The door finally opens, just enough to show her face, and she frowns when she sees me. My heart rate suddenly escalates.
“Nate? What—what are you doing here?” She asks, peering over my shoulder, her eyes widening slightly when she notices all the girls standing there, watching us.
“Are you going to let me in?” I ask, meeting a few of the girls who stare with a frown.
“Hum… Are you here to see Sonja? Because she left early this morning for the winter break and…”
“Prudence, can you please let me in? I’ll explain, but not in this damn hallway while everyone is staring at us.” Who the fuck is Sonja? Her roommate?
I’m about to turn around and yell at everyone to get lost and mind their own business—their eyes making my skin crawl—when she finally steps away, opening her door wider to let me in.
I hear the door click shut behind me, and stop to look around, not able to stop the curiosity.
I can clearly see which side is hers. Graphite sketches covering the wall over her bed and desk, on the closet doors, scattered on her bedside table. Open artbooks, depicting sketches of people, portraits, small animals, or landscapes. I know she wants to be a forensic sketch artist and she focuses more on portraits and people—and that’s the whole reason why most of her drawings are exactly that.
“As I told you, Sonja is not here and—”
“Where should I stand?” I ask, before I chicken out, taking in her space one last time.
“Excuse me?”
I turn around abruptly, catching the confused look on her face, her dark brown eyes shining and a little puffy. Fuck, has she been crying? Because Jerkwood didn’t show up?
I try not to think too much about it and pull my shirt over my head, keeping it in my hand at my side. Her lips part in shock and I fight a grin when I notice the blush creeping up her cheeks.
“So you can draw,” I continue. “Where do you want me to stand?”
“I’m sorry but—wait, what? What are you doing?”
She shakes her head, her eyes wide, and I roll my eyes. What did she expect was supposed to happen when Jerkwood would have shown up? That he would keep his shirt on?
“I’m stepping in,” I sigh. “Weren’t you supposed to meet with Jerkwood? So you could practice drawing?” I pause, narrowing my eyes. “Or was it like an excuse to—”
“No, no!” She interrupts, darting her eyes away, looking embarrassed. “I was, but—”
“He’s not coming,” I deadpan, in case she’s still hoping he’d show up. “Don’t ask me how I know, and just accept the replacement.”
She frowns, and I curse myself internally for the tone I used. The girl believes she’s been stood up, there’s no need for me to be an ass. She’s not moving, and not saying anything. Fuck, did I just upset her?
“Come on, let’s get to work,” I say with a softer voice, dropping my tee-shirt on the floor, and clasping my hands together in front of me to prevent myself from reaching for her. “Where do I stand? Do you need me to do something, or… I don’t know, just stand there? Sit somewhere? Prudence, you’re gonna have to lead me through this, I have no idea what I’m doing here and you’re just— frozen…” Wait, what’s wrong with her? She’s frozen on the spot, her face slightly red, her eyes wide and focused on my face, her mouth gaping. “Prudence?”
She jolts slightly when I say her name. “I—I don’t…” her eyes finally move then, landing on my naked chest, abs and arms, before she snaps them close. “It’s alright, Nate. You really don’t have to do this,” she sighs and turns away, taking a step towards the door.
And I don’t have the time to think before I jump after her and wrap my hand around her small wrist, making her freeze just before she reaches the door handle. Her head pivots slightly to the side, our eyes clashing briefly before she looks down. And I’m almost struck on the spot with how beautiful but sad she looks. By how much I want to pull her in and wrap myself around her, keeping her close and safe in my arms. I realize that I’m going to have to talk to Jack. It’s not a silly crush. Damn, this girl doesn’t even know how deeply she dug into my mind and soul. How I wish I could spend my whole time here just watching her draw, or listening to her speak. It doesn’t even have to make sense. And I hate myself for also thinking about her in the way those other assholes were, but now I can’t deny that it’s her I picture in my fantasies, when I’m alone in my room or in the shower, desperate for someone I can’t have.
Fuck, I’m so screwed.
“Really, I don’t mind,” I say softly, barely over a whisper. “Let me help. Get your art stuff and tell me what you need.”
But please, don’t ask me to go, I say silently with my eyes when she finally lifts her gaze back to mine, searching my eyes.
After a moment, she exhales a shaky breath and drops her gaze to my chest. I let her look in silence, trying my best not to push her too much. I’m comfortable in my own body. I work out a lot but don’t hold back when I want to eat or drink something. No matter what I tell myself, I know why I take care of myself and exercise as much as I do. After all, I did spend three years flirting and fucking around. My stamina has never failed me, nor has my body when it came to satisfy a woman.
And now, I don’t seem to care about anyone other than her. Her, a woman I can’t have. And yet, I can’t seem to stop working out, thinking about the imaginary day I will have her, and how much I want to make her feel all kinds of good.
Does that make me vain or simply delusional?
“Alright,” she whispers, taking a step towards me, and the surprise makes my hold on her wrist loosen. “Can you go stand by the desk? Next to the big floor lamp.”
“Sure.” I nod and after a few more seconds, I let go of her arm softly.
I turn around and go stand where she told me to. She follows and stops just a few inches away from me, and I inhale a deep breath of her perfume, before flinching slightly at the brightness of the light she turns on.
She apologizes shyly and I refrain from telling her not to. I don’t know why she always apologizes, and it drives me crazy. Like sometimes, she just says sorry for sitting somewhere, or saying something. Why does she feel like she has to be sorry for existing?
She looks at my shoulders, my chest, my abs, and after a few seconds, lifts her hands but stops and pulls them back an inch. I’m holding my breath. Was she going to touch me? Why did she stop?
“Hm… Uh, can I—” she pauses, her eyes meeting mine and I’m afraid she’ll see everything that’s going on in my mind.
I look down, towards her hands hovering just an inch from my stomach, and I understand what she’s waiting for. I swallow through the knot in my throat and my hands, unmoving at my sides, are clammy against my jeans.
“Okay,” I answer, but my voice is barely more than a breath.
She nods, and rubs her hands together a couple of time before they finally touch my skin, and I close my eyes, fighting against the goosebumps spreading over my whole fucking body, like an electric current.
Come on, think about all the horrible diseases you learned about for the last four years. Don’t get hard now, don’t get hard now, don’t get hard now, I plead with myself.
Come on, she’s barely touching me.
But her hands are so soft, exploring me. Over the bumps of my abs, my chest, and along my arms. God how I’d love to have them wrapped around my—
“Thank you,” she says, clearing her throat and stepping back until she reaches her bed.
When she grabs her art supplies and sits crossed legs on top of the covers, she closes her eyes and shakes her head a couple of times, like she’s trying to clear her mind.
How I wish I could be there, to see what goes on inside it.
“You can move your arms and stretch your legs if you need to, but to make sure the lightning is good I’m gonna need you to keep facing that direction… Well, facing me.”
“Alright,” I answer with a nod.
She starts a playlist and I watch her. For what seems to be just a few minutes but is in reality about two hours. She’s so focused on her notepad that she barely looks aware of what surrounds her. I try not to move outside the moments she asks me to, and I’m enraptured by the way she moves her pencil over the paper. She’s passionate, and I can’t take my eyes off her.
And suddenly, I feel terrified. There’s no way I can ever see her being with someone. But Jack will never let me be with her. How could he? I’ve been acting like a manwhore for the last three years. He’ll think I’m not serious about her. But if I explain how I feel? Would he believe me? He’s my best friend, I hope he trusts me enough not to hurt her or him. To know that I’m telling the truth when I tell him how crazy I am about her.
How did I let myself end up in this situation? It’s so cliché, a guy, falling head over heels for his best friend’s sister. For the way she looks, yes, but also the way she laughs, she smiles, she smells. The way she nibbles on her lips when she’s trying to focus, the way she’s always frowning in the most adorable way when she’s confused.
The way she doesn’t realize how beautiful and hot she is, wearing such simple clothes but that hug her curves in the best way.
And damn him, but Jerkwood is right. That tiny waist and those wide hips? Fuck, but I want to grab onto those and drive into her, over, and over, and over, until she can’t even scream my name anymore because of how spent she’ll be .
I grit my teeth, fisting my hands in front of me to hide the swelling in my jeans.
Dammit.
When I look at her face, I see her smiling while she stares at her sketch and my heart rate speeds up. Did she notice?
“Why are you smiling?” I ask, hiding my embarrassment behind curiosity.
She jolts and stares at me with wide eyes “What?”
I arch a brow, trying to hide a smile. She was definitely lost in her own little world . “You were smiling at your paper. I was just wondering why.”
She looks down and stares at her sketch, silent for a few seconds. “Uh… I—I don’t really know, I get a little lost drawing sometimes, I’m sorry.”
I tilt my head side to side, stretching. “Why are you apologizing?”
She pauses, probably surprised by my question. Maybe even by her useless apology. “Oh, uh…” She scratches her nose distractedly and I hold a little laugh when I notice the large stain of graphite left on the side of it. “I don’t know,” she says, scrunching her nose adorably and I can’t hold my smile anymore. “But anyway, I think I’m done,” she says. “You’re free to move, you must be a little sore.”
“I’m fine,” but I still stretch my sleepy legs, not dropping my smile as I stare at her stained face.
God, she’s so pretty. Even with graphite on her face.
She stands up and starts stretching as well just as I pick up my discarded shirt and take the steps separating us. When her smell hits me again, I fight not lean into her and my smile drops a little at my internal struggle.
Her frown deepens in confusion, her face an open door into her thoughts, when I lift my tee-shirt holding hand and ask “May I?”
“Uh… Yes, of course. We’re—”
She cuts herself off abruptly when I rub the white tee-shirt on the side of her nose, trying to get all the graphite off it. Her wide eyes dart down towards her cheek for a second before returning to my eyes.
I step back, satisfied that I got all of it, and show her the stained shirt. “You had a little something on your nose.” I smile playfully.
She looks at her hands and winces. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
“You’re right, so—”
“I swear to god, Prudence,” I groan, dropping the smile, and her hand shoots up to cover her mouth. “You don’t have to apologize for a damn thing,” I say softly, holding myself back before I do something stupid like grab her face between my hands. I hold her gaze though until she finally nods. I release a shaky sigh. “Alright, I gotta go,” I pause, studying her face. “Unless, you need more time to—”
“No, I’m good,” she interrupts with a reassuring shy smile. “Thank you.”
Good. Jack will start to wonder where the hell I disappeared to. “Alright. If you need another model again, ask me . Forget about Jerkwood and the other asses like him.”
“Why do you call him Jerkwood?”
Because he fucking deserves it.
“It suits him,” I answer with a shrug as I put my tee-shirt back on, smiling softly at the gray stain at the bottom. “Don’t you think?”
“Well, it’s a little rude.”
“Right up his alley, then.” I wink but she seems lost in her own mind for a minute, debating whether I’m right or too harsh. “Anyway. Remember, if you need a model, you call me.” If you need anything, really. “I’ll be here.”
We both nod at each other, before my eyes dart to her bed, where her notepad is opened to her last sketch. The one that made her smile.
“Can I see that?” I ask, tilting my head towards it.
“Sure,” she answers, but I’m almost certain I see her blush a little.
I force myself to close it to the first page, starting with her first sketches.
And I don’t see why she needed the practice. She picks up on the slightest detail, making the drawings completely lifelike. She noticed the scar I have from my appendectomy, the couple of beauty marks on my left pectoral, the exact shape of each muscle.
“You’re really talented. It’s really realistic.” I cringe at my sudden lack of vocabulary. ‘ Really’? Could have done better.
I freeze when I finally reach the last one. The ‘makes Prue smile’ one. And my face is suddenly burning. God, if Jack ever sees that, I’m fucked. What I feel is written all over my face and posture.
“Is… Is that what you saw when you were drawing?” My voice is suddenly raspy, and I can’t look away from the paper.
“I know you told me not to apologize, but I’m sorry. You were obviously uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable,” I repeat, not sure I’ve heard. Because yeah, sure, I was uncomfortable. But what I see is way more telling than that. I’m just glad she didn’t notice the fucking bulge…
“Yeah. You were fidgeting a little, and tense, and—”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. Okay, so she is absolutely clueless. She doesn’t even recognize desire even when it’s staring right at her face. “Uncomfortable,” I repeat, again. “Yeah, I guess that’s one way to say it.” I shake my head in disbelief, pulling at the paper to set it free from the block. “Can I keep this?” I ask, meeting her gaze.
“Uh… I guess? If you want to.”
Fucking adorable.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
“Right,” she says after a short silence. “Sure, you can keep it.”
I fold it carefully and slide it in the back pocket of my jeans, my eyes not leaving hers. I can’t believe she didn’t see it. While she was drawing or after, just reviewing it. Uncomfortable . Yeah, right. Having a boner in front of your best friend’s sister is uncomfortable in a way.
“See you around, Prudence,” I finally say before I leave the room, forcing myself not to turn around.
Fuck, I’m gonna have to talk to Jack.
Not tonight though. But soon. I need to tell him.
But the seat next to her in my anatomy class? It’s mine now.