14. Macs #3
Ah, she knows my personality well. My hands fall from her shoulders, and I shove them in my pockets. I haven’t even slept with Teala yet. I’m working, all right. I’m working fucking hard.
Mom hugs me. “Stop and smell the roses every once in a while. It won’t kill you.”
It fucking just may. Teala appears behind me and changes the subject to yoga.
Dad pretends to be interested, but I know he’s envisioning lewd poses.
It’s a guy thing. My phone vibrates in my pocket again, but I don’t dare take it out with everyone around.
Teala hears it and makes a show of staring at my pocket and then flicking her gaze back to my face.
I pretend I have no clue what she’s insinuating.
Teala has a Tupperware full of cakes, muffins, and brownies sitting on her lap on the drive back to her apartment.
She stays pretty silent as I drive, texting every so often.
She answers when I ask her if she had a good time, and it’s not an open hostility, but I feel it simmering just below the surface.
I park in the parking garage, in the same spot as before, and trail behind as she makes her way to the elevator. I’m basically staring a hole in the side of her head by the time we make it to her front door. Her effort at ignoring me completely is commendable. I tell her so.
“I’m not ignoring you, Macs,” she says, unlocking her door and pushing it open.
I walk in behind her and close it. I clear my throat. In favor of ignoring me some more, she takes the confections into her kitchen and starts piling them on a serving tray.
“I was thinking about leaving these at the studio, but then again most of my clients don’t really frequent the sugar,” she explains to thin air.
Making my way to the sofa, I rumple the throw blanket casually tossed across the arm. Her head turns quicker than the exorcist, her gaze like daggers, aimed at the blanket.
Smirking, I say, “I leave tomorrow, Teala. Can we spend some time together? Alone?” Patting the seat next to me, I cock my head to the side in question.
The plate lands on the counter with a loud clank as she puts it on the serving bar. I wince. Irritation unlike anything I’ve ever dealt with courses my veins.
“If you’re mad about something, say it. Whatever this is,” I say, waving my hand in her direction, “isn’t getting your point across.”
Her mouth puckers in a scowl. “I’m not in the habit of telling anyone anything,” she replies, folding her arms across her chest.
I stand. “And I’m not in the habit of prodding, so I’ll go ahead and head out?” I point at the door with a dramatic flair.
“You were on your phone all day, Macs,” she says.
Breathlessly, she sighs and hangs her head, like I’ve punched her.
That’s how much it takes for her to admit this to me.
“We talked about trying to start something real, and then I see you on your phone all day. It makes me think it’s all bullshit and you’re toying with me.
I hate feeling self-conscious. I hate feeling like I have to ask you.
I hate that you were on the phone and that I gave a shit.
Do you see what’s happening already? This is awful.
Who am I?” She pulls her hands through her hair and avoids looking anywhere near me.
She picks up a brownie and walks to the window. I watch as she looks at the chocolate like it may bite her and then shoves a bite into her mouth.
“A couple things. If this is jealousy, then this isn’t going to work.
Jealousy breeds mistrust, and if we don’t have trust between us, we have nothing.
I’m gone constantly, Teala. You have to trust me.
I was texting with my friends, or rather they were texting and I was watching the group message unravel into complete depravity.
I’m not toying with you.” I stand next to her, nudging her shoulder with my side.
She swallows her mouthful. “Exhibit A. This is madness, and I’ve concocted it out of thin air. Fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m not a jealous person. I swear it,” she says, groaning.
She’s not, but our chemistry is changing both of us.
I pull her tightly to my chest and lean down to kiss her.
She’s still cocoa sweet. I moan into her mouth when she runs her hands up my arms and clutches onto my biceps, her grip firm and cool.
Her tongue lashes out to meet mine as her body goes limp in my arms. I pull away and can still taste her on my lips.
I lick them. “I’d say I won’t be jealous, but what’s mine is mine,” I admit.
Teala grins—this unabashed show of undeniable happiness. “You have no idea what that means to me. I’ve always wanted to be cavemanned.”
I shake my head, my bottom lip between my teeth. “I’ll drag you by your hair and club you into submission if that’s your thing.”
She laughs, leaning back to get a better view of my face. “If anyone else heard you joke like, that you’d die by hot pokers.”
Raising my brow, I shake my head again. “If anyone saw my group text, I would be sent to prison and then flogged to death.”
That forces her smile to disappear.
“I’m joking, Teala.” Somewhat. I palm the side of her face with both hands. “What?” I see questions in her eyes. “What’s on your mind?”
“I was just thinking about what you said at your parents’ house. What do you do during deployments? Consider me a military virgin. I know nothing.” A fact that’s both alluring and frustrating.
I sigh. “I liked where things were headed when you were jealous,” I exclaim.
She slides her hands down my biceps, over my chest, and down to the button on my jeans. With a grin, she cocks her head in question.
“Yes. That jealousy,” I encourage. Closing my eyes, I wait.
“You’ll have to tell me things eventually, you know?” She unbuttons and unzips my pants and then stills.
I peek at her through one lowered lid.
“We’re not pretending anymore,” she says.
“When I’m deployed I do what you…assume I do.”
“ Call of Duty ?” she asks innocently. She wants real answers. My stomach rolls.
I smile. “No. Not Call of Duty at all. Although I think they’ve replicated our uniforms pretty spot-on by my last account.”
She stares at me.
“There are missions and bad guys.”
She stares some more.
“It’s dangerous sometimes and boring at other times. I use weapons and eat shitty food.” More staring. Fuck. “I’ll be able to call you while I’m away.”
Her eyebrows rise. Finally.
“Connectivity is pretty good on the larger bases, which is where I’m usually at. The smaller outstations have spotty connection, but I’ll always be able to get in touch.” Or so I’ve seen with my friends who have spouses to report back to.
“That doesn’t sound too bad, although I have nothing to compare it to. What if it’s harder than I anticipate?”
I wave my palms in front of me. “Wait, wait, wait. We haven’t even fucked yet. We could be completely incompatible and never see each other again after this.”
“This?” she says, pointing to the floor. “Like, we’re going to do it now? Shouldn’t we make it special? We did the prison sentence of four dates.”
I love that she ignores my barb. It was such a lie it wasn’t even worth her responding. The second my dick sinks home, I know it will feel like home—the opposite of incompatible.
She stares out the window again.
“You’re overthinking it again,” I say.
“Can we do it at your house?” she asks, slinging her hands on her hips.
“We aren’t teenagers, Teala. Stop saying we’re going to do it.” I chastise.
She laughs.
“I’m going to love you all dowwn,” I croon, grabbing her by the waist. Pressing my groin into her, I hump her a few times for good measure. Teala gags and leans over to fake retch. I pull her ass against my cock because the urge is too hard to resist.
“That was a record,” she says, shaking her head, glancing up over her shoulder. “You haven’t rapped during a conversation in, like, twelve hours.”
I think I have, but she just didn’t recognize the song. It’s criminal. I tighten my hold on her waist.
I shrug. “What can I say? Sometimes I don’t have the greatest material to work with. You should give me some better lines.”
She spins in my grasp. “Quite the opposite,” she says. “I like the challenge. I should walk around quoting Shakespeare. You’d never be able to rap anything ever again.”
I kiss her to shut her up. “You don’t give me enough credit,” I growl into her mouth. “You really want to wait until tonight? At my house?”
She moves her lips against mine, and it’s a whisper of carnal pleasure. She’s not kissing, just brushing, and my dick responds immediately.
“I’d like that,” she says.
And that seals the deal. I would have gone to town right now against this glass, on the floor, sofa, or her bed would have worked as well, but if she’s asking this of me, I’ll make it happen. Not because I think it’s what I’m supposed to do, I realize. I want to.
I nod and gently push her to arm’s length.
“I’m leaving right now. I hope you don’t find it in bad taste.
I want to fuck you, you understand? Also, I’m technically allowed to fuck you.
You’re in my arms with your hands wandering my body.
You want it to be special, something I don’t understand but will relent, but I have to go before I trip and fall and my cock ends up buried inside your pussy, you understand? ”
She bites her lip. “You understand I want that?”
Blowing out a breath, I let her words hit me square in the dick. “Come over later. We’ll have dinner.” The doorknob in my hand, I peer at her over my shoulder. She hasn’t moved. I’d fathom she hasn’t taken a breath since I last spoke.
“And we’ll do it?” she asks, eyes wide.
I chuckle. “Oh, we’ll do it all right.”
I shut her apartment door and suck in a deep breath.
The rules are exhausting. Relationships are exhausting.
Not only am I worried about what I want and feel, but I almost have to anticipate what she is feeling as well.
If I don’t want to come off as a dick, that is.
I have too many other dick tendencies to not give this my best effort.
As I drive to Tahoe’s house, I find myself hoping Teala is in fact an awful lay.