Jennie
The former sounds preferable. Despite the palpable awkwardness that's lingering around, Lisa is fucking hot when she's angry.
I need to feign innocence - it's my only strategy.
I lower my eyes in defeat. "I'm sorry," I mumble. "I guess I'm just nervous."
Lisa sighs loudly and runs a hand through her hair, causing it to stand on edge. I subconsciously lick my lips. "Why are you nervous, Jennie?" she asks, her voice softer.
It's now or never. "I guess this is all just kind of fast to me. We've only known each other a few days..."
"I'm not trying to force you to do something you don't want to do. You know that, right?" I keep my eyes lowered, but suddenly she puts a finger under my chin, forcing me to meet her gaze. Her brown eyes are remorseful. "I'm sorry, okay? It's just..." She sighs in frustration. "One moment you're straddling me, breathing all over my neck, and the next moment you're hightailing it to the kitchen. I'm starting to get whiplash from these sudden mood swings - I can't keep up."
I nod - I guess I have been running pretty hot and cold with her. I would expect a similar reaction out of any normal human being. And of course, Lisa was already extraordinarily cocky; I doubt she's ever had this problem before. She probably doesn't know what to think.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. I feel a little idiotic now. It seems I'm giving myself whiplash.
She frowns. "You didn't do anything wrong, Jennie."
"I'm sending mixed signals."
"So what do you want, then? Just tell me."
I give a small, half-hearted smile. "You know it's never that easy with women."
She grins, and it's such a relief to see her smile again. "Obviously."
"What is it that you want, Lisa?" I challenge, wondering how much she'll reveal.
She still has my chin in her fingers; she rubs her thumb across my cheek and with her signature crooked smile answers, "You."
Damn, she makes it hard to breathe when she gets like this. She should really come with a warning label or something.
"How do you want me?" I prod.
"However I can have you."
"I'm not one of those girls who puts out on the first date, you know."
"I'm well aware, Jennie, seeing as how this is our third date. And I'm not trying to pressure you into 'putting out', as you like to call it." I'm silent as I struggle for a response that won't give my knowledge of the bet away. She moves her hand from my chin and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.
"Now tell me something you want, Jennie."
Something I want? The truth blurts from my lips before I can stop it. "Trust."
I don't trust Lisa, plain and simple. She's nice, good-looking, charming... and untrustworthy. How many hearts have shattered in her hands? I don't want to know.
She blinks, searching my face. I wonder what she's looking for - what thoughts are concealed by her scrutinising eyes? Did I just give too much away? My heart begins to pound against my chest as I wait for her response...
"Trust," she repeats. Her hand drops to her side. "You don't trust me?"
No. "I don't know."
She doesn't look angry or offended. She looks... repentant? Is it possible that she may actually feel guilty for what she's doing?
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Jennie," she says. I note that she doesn't try to persuade me. She knows I don't trust her, yet she's resigned to this fact.
Because she's not trustworthy... and she knows this.
She downs her entire glass of wine in one quick gulp and then pours another. I watch her closely, analysing her every move, before moving around her to pull some plates from the cabinets. My thoughts area complete mess. On the one hand, a big part of me - a massive part - wants to jump and ravage this god before she gets away. I know she won't be around forever. But then my rational side is waving warning flags, urging me to back the fuck up before I get hurt.
