Chapter 20 #2
We end up wrapped in towels on her bed, as I hold her.
Pure joy blocks the rest of my tangled emotions from surfacing as I hold her, reflexively smiling while I stare at her.
Maybe I’m trying to communicate something with my eyes, but it comes from somewhere deeper than my conscious level because no words come to mind, let alone to my lips.
“I admit it,” she whispers.
“Admit what?” I push a wet curl from her eyelid.
“Maybe the secrecy does make it exciting—”
I chuckle. “You are a naughty—”
She puts a finger on my lips, but she’s quick enough to take it away before I can suck it into my mouth as she giggles.
“I must be getting slow.”
“Let me finish my thought.” She pauses to test whether I’m going to stop her again or listen. It kills me, my heart beating faster and my chest tightening, but I prepare to listen, knowing instinctively I’m not going to like what she says.
“But there’s a downside to all the secrecy—the lies. And that outweighs the excitement because I’ve been worrying too much since my conversation with Daniel.”
Clamping down on the churning in my gut before it strangles me, I evade her point, shut it down in my head. “Daniel is cool. I talked to him.” I pause a beat. “He said he likes you.”
“He does?”
“Not as much as I do.”
She smiles, and I watch a myriad of emotions swirl in her eyes as she stares. I know she’s deciding whether to let me off the hook, whether to let me avoid the subject of lying to our families.
She shakes her head. “So you say. Prove how much you like me.”
My mouth clamps down on hers faster than I can think, my animal instincts taking over my communications. But I make it a quick kiss, needing to return to the firm ground of teasing. “Hmm. I wonder how I could do that? Let’s see… How about if I give you more orgasms? Would that prove it?”
She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “I think you’ve already given me as many orgasms as I can handle.”
“You think I did?”
She laughs as I slide my hand under her towel. “Stop before you hurt yourself. Or one of us. I don’t want to pass out from an overdose.”
“An overdose of sex?”
“An overdose of you.” She pushes herself up on an elbow. “Besides, I thought you were going to tutor me in Stats.”
“That was a ploy.”
She laughs. “I’m serious. I need straight As or my parents will think there’s something wrong with me.”
“Shit. How could they ever think that?” I know they never would.
“You know what I mean. They would worry because it’s not like me to get less than an A.”
“You never got even a B?”
She shrugs as she gets out of bed and starts getting dressed. “Maybe once or twice, here and there. But it’s not my norm.”
“I don’t know how I feel about that.” I’m serious in a suddenly feeling inadequate way.
“Don’t worry. I won’t hold it against you if your norm is not straight As.”
“That’s a relief. Guess Pammy’s not the only brainy girl I…” I don’t know how to finish that statement. I can’t say brainy girl I’m seeing because it’s not like that.
“I know what you mean. She’s not your only brainy girlfriend.” Fifi heaves a big sigh. Then she picks up my sweats and tosses them at me.
I duck. “You mean fake girlfriend.”
When Darcy walks in the front door, Fifi and I are on the couch studying together in the living room. We exchange hellos, and the next thing Darcy does is slip her phone from her pocket and take a pic of us.
“You two are very cute together,” she says like she has no choice. She’s not convincing.
“Send me the pic,” Fifi says. I’m surprised she’s okay with it after her earlier paranoia about us being seen together, but this is her roommate, so I guess Fifi trusts her.
Me? There’s something about Darcy that sends my crazy-chic-meter veering into the warning zone.
“Definitely. Just sent it.” Darcy gives Fifi one of those smiles that borders on a grimace, but that could be my resentment of her intruding on our private time shading my impression.
“What are you up to the rest of the day?” Darcy asks, looking back and forth between us. She doesn’t sit and join us.
“I’m heading to the rink for practice.”
Fifi smiles. “I’m working on our design project. It’s so cool that we’re going to model them at the Winter Snow Ball.”
“Yeah. I can’t believe Prof Matahari set that up,” Darcy says, not looking pleased.
“Professor Matami,” Fifi corrects her, looking annoyed and smiling at the same time.
“Whatev.” Darcy shrugs, with her full-blown irritation showing, giving her face a nylon-masked burglar vibe. I saw the mask in a movie once, and it gives me a shiver now remembering it.
Turning away, I snake an arm around Fifi as my time with her ticks down, hoping a massive show of PDA will shame Darcy into going somewhere else, anywhere else. Either way, I’m going to get my R-rated goodbye with my girl Fifi.
Fifi wriggles in my arm, trying to squelch a giggle while I slip my hand under her sweater from behind and slide it around for an exquisite feel of the warm soft flesh covering her flat belly. I feel her quick inhale and smirk as she struggles to say something to Darcy.
“I, uh, I think showing our glam outfits at the Snow Ball is a game changer.” She squirms for separation.
“The opportunity to…” She clamps a hand over mine when I try to slide it up over her ribs in the direction of her irresistible breasts, taunting me like twin hills of temptation.
If they were made of gold, I couldn’t want them more.
Now that I think of it, I’d want them less.
What does that say about me? I’m a fool who cares little about money? Or maybe I’m a fool when it comes to Fifi. Shit.
Fifi pinches my hand, hard, with those sharp pink nails. I freeze.
Darcy flits her eyes to where the action is—or where the action was—and makes a face like she’s looking at something obscenely distasteful. She’s full of unattractive expressions.
Throwing her hands on her hips, she looks down at us giving mean teacher vibes like she’s going to scold us.
“I think trying to turn the Snow Ball into a fashion show puts too much pressure on us. Besides, it’s not like a bunch of New Hampshire bumpkin undergrads are going to appreciate high fashion. ”
I laugh at the bumpkin reference. Fifi looks surprised. But I think it’s about the pressure, not the bumpkin jibe.
“We can handle this, Darcy. We’ll stun everyone with our dazzling glam dresses.” She gives her friend a big encouraging smile. I’m not sold on Darcy being a real friend, though.
“Whatever you say.”
“Absolutely. We can work together if you want. Sometimes two heads are better than one.”
“No way. My design is top secret.”
Fifi chuckles. “Okay. I’ll share my ideas with you and any tips and tricks—”
Darcy puts up a hand to shut Fifi down. “Don’t bother. I know you mean well, but I’m from New York City. I apprenticed in a top design shop. I know more than you have in your pinky.”
I raise my eyebrows because that makes no sense, but more because she’s throwing shade at my girl. I open my mouth to say something, not hiding my displeasure, but Fifi squeezes my thigh. I wish, but it’s not the flirty kind of squeeze, so I get her message and keep my mouth shut.
Fifi’s smile fades, but before it disappears, I intervene and take her in my arms.
“I hate to leave you, babe, but I need to skate.” Without any warning, I cover her mouth with mine in a deep, behind-closed-doors kind of kiss, holding back nothing and letting my hands wander over all those parts I love most, ending by cupping her face and sucking her lips before I raise my head to take in some air.
Her face looks dazed and her lips slightly swollen and extra sexy, the way I love them. I drink her in, gathering up the picture of her to savor when I’m alone.
A loud derisive sound, half cough, half snarl, breaks the spell, and Fifi and I both look up at Darcy.
“You’re so… so… uncouth.”
Uncouth? We both laugh as I stand and help Fifi up from the soft couch.
“I’m sorry,” Fifi says, trying to stifle her giggling. “It’s just… uncouth?” Whatever else she was going to say gets lost in another giggle.
Darcy isn’t amused, and I figure it’s better to make peace, not war. “I’m sorry, Darcy. You’re right. I should exercise better self-control when we’re not alone.”
She gives me a micro-nod of her head, presumably accepting my apology. I don’t stay around for any more fun conversation with the girl, and Fifi walks me to the door for a final farewell kiss, which even as I’m halfway out the door, my lips still clamped on hers, I realize is more than ridiculous.
My need to kiss her every time I look at her is, in fact, insane.
You’d think I was a smitten teenager or…
Frigid air slaps me into gear, and I shut the door behind me, shutting down the insanity. I break into a jog to get to the Whit for afternoon practice. Thank God I’m returning to the ice.
I speed up to a run like getting to the the haven of the rink is a matter of life and death.
The death of my life as I knew it.