Chapter 5
Trace
I sit in stony silence.
Did Sorrow ask me what I think she asked me? “To be clear, are you asking me to teach you how to keep from catching feelings for the guy you’re banging?” I grind out. “Who’s the motherfucker?”
This deep rage eats me up from the inside out, and it takes every ounce of control not to grab her by the throat and demand she stop with the hookup, effective now.
She rears back like I’ve slapped her. I take charge of my tone and my language and soften my delivery. “Why not get him to teach you?”
She drops my arm like it’s on fire, and using both hands, she grabs her hair and covers her face with the onyx strands, using them as a shield.
It’s a nervous tic of hers. I’ve scared her.
Damn it, I should apologize, but the little mouse has to learn to fight back, to tell me to fuck off when I scare her.
Or have the courage to call me out when she doesn’t like the way I treat her or speak to her.
She’s doing none of the above, and it pisses me off more.
Sorrow Sophia is stronger than anyone gives her credit for. A weaker person would’ve curled into a fetal position and hidden from the world after what happened in that house, but Sorrow?
She’s endured the entire town’s judgment of her and her parents, and guess who gets up every morning and faces the judgmental motherfuckers with her couldn’t-care-less stare? Sorrow Sophia, the girl with two first names.
“There isn’t anyone,” she mumbles from behind her hair. “I don’t want to get taken advantage of, and I don’t want to fall for a guy.” She shrugs a shoulder. “I have my whole life ahead of me.”
“You’re keeping your options open.”
“Yes.”
It wasn’t a question. We’re too young to be committing to someone for life.
She tucks her hair behind her ears, giving me a better glimpse of her face. High cheekbones. Flawless skin. Pouty mouth. Sharp nose. I look away. Sorrow Sophia is easy on the eyes.
“Good for you.”
She must like my praise. Sorrow turns her body into me and loops her arms through mine again, putting all her weight on me.
Her arms wrapped around my bicep get me hard.
Her soft hair tickling the underside of my jaw gets my heart jackhammering against my rib cage.
I should move away from her body heat and the temptation of her small breasts pressed against my side, but it’s nice to sit with a girl and have a decent conversation without getting eye-fucked or groped.
“Are you warm enough?” I have this overwhelming urge to kiss the top of her head.
“Yes, this is better than earlier. Thank you.” She glances up at me, and I suck in a breath at how beautiful she is with her glacier-blue eyes, pale skin, and full red lips in the moonlight. Her hair is so dark it blends with the night.
“You like huddling close to me with our body heat warming us, and the blanket trapping the heat?”
“Very much,” she says in this soft voice that, for reasons unknown to me, constricts my chest.
The fight is gone from her. It’s a shame. I liked her temper. Liked her burst of anger and jealousy when she called me out for baiting her. But I’m also a fan of enjoying a moment.
“I bet you like being outside beneath the moonlight, hearing the horny frogs calling to their mates.”
“Wha—” She laughs, and her puffs of happiness coast over my neck, heating my flesh.
I could eat her up right now, but I like the peace of not having a girl coming on to me.
“I thought they croaked because they’re hungry.”
“Well, yeah, they’re hungry. They’re hungry for booty.” I resist the urge to waggle my eyebrows.
“Booty?”
Laughter shoots from her, and the low, throaty sound gets me rock hard. Other girls giggle, but Sorrow? Sorrow’s laughter is full and genuine, straight from her core. Bonus? She’s not giggling to get inside my pants or to coax me into giving her oral.
“Okay, I’ll go along with your explanation.” Her laughter fades into the darkness. “Have you decided?”
“Whether I’ll teach you how to compartmentalize the physical from the emotions?” I say the words with a bitter taste in my mouth. “Who are you planning on testing this on?”
“Um, the nice boy who came up to me earlier?”
A question rather than a statement. She’s asking for my input. Sorrow is putting her trust in me. Bad idea.
“Nah, he’ll take advantage of you. Use me instead.”
She shakes her head. “It’ll be awkward with us living together.”
“Us living together is the reason this will work better than with a random dude. Anyway, no one likes to be used, and with me knowing, it won’t be a surprise when you call it off.”
She tightens her hold on my bicep. “You think I’ll call it off first?”
“I’m expecting you to. No one breaks your heart, Sorrow. You do the breaking. Understood?”
The moon moves from behind the clouds. I give her a sidelong glance. Her throat visibly moves as she swallows nervously. “A guy would have to fall in love with me for me to break his heart.”
“And that’s why we”—I point to myself, then her—“are the best ones to do this compartmentalizing that I’ve been doing for years. We won’t fall for one another. After this . . .” I wave my hand. What do I even call it?
“Experiment.”
That’s a good way to put it. I smile. “After this experiment, I’ll go back to compartmentalizing, and you’ll be wiser for it.”
She nods. “Is a month okay?”
Had it been a different girl, I’d give her a week. With inexperienced Sorrow Sophia, a month will do—two weeks during winter break and two weeks after.
“More than okay.”
“When do we start?”
There’s nervousness in her tone. Or is it fear?
Her fear excites me. Her nervousness has me second-guessing myself.
Would she rather have Rush teach her? The thought pisses me off. “We should come up with rules first.”
“I agree.”
What will she come up with? Anticipation thrums through me like a beat I can’t get out of my head. “Ladies first.”