matters of the heart

33

"Charlie-"

"It-It would be fine," I continue, my eyes shining with sincerity. "We would still be friends-it'd f*cking suck, but it's better than nothing, right?"

"Charlie," she repeats softly, taking a step forward. She shakes her head. "Do you think I'd show up here like this," Her hands which I didn't realise were out of her pockets, came up to unbuckle her trench. The material falls in a messy poodle by her feet. "I didn't change my mind."

I swallow -hard. Unable to look away. Unable to speak. And how could I when Lorraine's standing in front of me, naked- because the flimsy excuse of matching underwear doesn't count as a piece of clothing, in my opinion. Majorly because it's so see-through that I can see the light brown colour of her nipples poking at the fabric, I picture my mouth around the flesh and growl lowly.

A sound I'm not aware I was capable of making. But f*ck, I think I'm going to explode just looking at her.

As hard as it was to imagine a world where Lorraine left the comfort of her apartment in nothing but see-through lace underwear and a trench coat, that's what happened. And it was one hell of a ballsy move-especially for the sophomore.

"Say something.." When I'm finally able to drag my eyes to her face, I watch uncertainty creep into her features. Her thoughts are spiralling. I can tell by the way her brows are tightly knitted together.

Before I can let her think this is the worst idea she's ever had, I stand from my bed and close the space between us. Lorraine breathes, her lips parting at the sudden invasion of privacy. I suppress a groan-her lips are practically begging to be kissed. She's peering up at me as my hands snake around her, settling on her hips.

Her skin is warm and, oh, so soft.

"Your skin feels like silk," I whisper, letting my hands run up and then down the sides of her. She visibly shivers, and I feel a smile tug at my lips. "I can imagine it was cold marching across campus in this." Winter in California isn't precisely brutal, but it does get slightly chilly when the sun goes down.

She swallows, almost like she can't decide whether to answer my question or melt into my touch. She blinks when one of my hands settle on her back, my finger tracing the tiniest of circles. "No, I called a cab here." She clears her throat. "Don't think I would have made it here if I walked inn these heels. I'm so nervous I'm sure I would have fallen over."

"Nervous," I repeat, almost as I've never heard the word before, even though the same feeling is biting at me. "Why are you nervous?"

I have no idea why I'm asking, but it seemed the right thing to do. Lorraine's tongue darts out to lick her lips. "Well-" she shakes her head like she's thought better of what she was about to say.

"Come on. You can tell me." I urge, pulling her in a bit closer. "What were you nervous about?"

"Everything," she blurts. "maybe not everything but mostly how you'd react to my, you know, outfit. I didn't-I haven't exactly gotten this far before with anybody, and I didn't-" she sighs.

"Didn't what?"

"Didn't want to come off like I'm trying too hard. I was afraid it would, I don't know, turn you off."

If she weren't looking so damn serious, I would have laughed at her admission because it has to be a joke that she thinks that. Instead, I pull her closer to me. Better for her to feel what the sight of her has done to me instead of trying to convince her with little words. Lorraine gasps softly when she hits my chest. "Feel that-" I ask, not understanding how I'm managing to keep my voice controlled, how I'm managing to keep myself controlled. Lorraine gulps and nods her head. "Does that feel like a turn off to you?" She shakes her head, her eyes not leaving mine. I smile devilishly. "I love your outfit-or the lack thereof. It's sexy."