𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫, 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

12. do you like me, like me, or just like me? (pt. 1.)

"You've got great tits, sue me if I look at them," he gestures to my boobs.

The damp, thin material sticks to my skin, making me thoroughly uncomfortable. "Can I borrow a shirt?" I ask.

"You can always not we—"

"Think carefully," I remind him.

"Yeah, I actually just cleaned a bunch. Well, two, but good enough," he rambles and walks into the storage room with a bed he claimed as his. He grabs one and hands it to me.

"Are you going to leave?" I ask him, looking from him to the door.

"Do I have to?" He tests.

"You're desperate," I tell him blankly.

"Just for you, Mabel." He grins.

I grab the bottom of my tank top and pull it off and throw it on the ground. He hesitates, he looks from my boobs to my face. "Is this an invi—"

"The clock is ticking and I'm hungry— for actual food," I cut off the opportunity to give him an innuendo.

He takes a step closer to me and grabs either side of my face in his large hands, leaning down slightly to kiss me. Immediately I regret the kiss, his mouth tastes overwhelmingly like rubbing alcohol, and I barely tolerate alcohol when it benefits me, and I refuse to right now.

I pull away, "No kissing."

"What? Why not?" He asks, eyebrows pulling together, looking thoroughly disappointed.

"Because all I can taste is rubbing alcohol and it's making me want to vomit," I tell him honestly.

He drops his hands and grabs my wrist, leading me through the house until he gets to the kitchen where he finds the can of Diet Coke Kie bought me and chugs the rest. I lean against the counter as I watch him.

"Fixed, now can we continue?" He asks.

I shrug, he grabs my bare waist and puts me on the counter. The two-inch difference between us is eliminated and I now look him in his eye. Not really liking the eye contact I grab the neck of his shirt and pull him forward. Our lips join once more, this time he doesn't taste of rubbing alcohol and I no longer want to vomit.

His hands grab my waist, fingers pressing into the skin.

My lips match his, creating a rhythm that makes my lungs burn. His tongue runs across the seam of my lips, I open my mouth, letting him take another piece of my quickly disappearing sanity.

My hands grab his hair, tangling my fingers in the soft blond locks. Pulling him closer, because this is one of the only times I let myself be controlled by another person.

I try not to think about the changes, the fact this isn't a forbidden, illicit affair, this is now just two people having sex. I don't have any reason to feel guilty, I'm not doing something awful. I'm free to do as I please, and who I please. My mind wanders to what this means, what this changes; because I would be a fool to not acknowledge that this changes something. As I begin to spiral I feel him pick up the string of my shorts, not pulling it, just holding it, giving me a second to change my mind.

My phone buzzes, "Pause," I pull back an inch and whisper the word breathlessly.

I glance down at my phone, the screen illuminated. It's my mother. Apparently, Robbie needs a babysitter and she's knee-deep in cleaning.

"Okay, we've got to be quick, I need to go babysit," I open my phone and text back that I need to finish something off, cringing a little at what the something entails, not wanting any questions.