UNFAMOUS [BOOK ONE] (A Wattpad 'Featured Story')

Ch. 19 | New Girl

I'm sitting at a small study table behind a shelf of books in the economics section of the Brompton university library, buried deep in the back where hardly any students lurk, pretending to be deeply engrossed in a physics text book. I don't even take physics but it was the first book I could grab on my way in. My notebook lies open on the table; random scribbles are scrawled on the almost empty page. So far I've drawn three flowers, that stupid 'S' thing that we all did back in primary school and a few of those line houses that you draw without taking the pen from the paper. To an unaware passer-by it would look as if I was half-heartedly doing my work, but if they took the time to look a little closer they would notice the way I squirmed with delight in my seat with the hem of my midi skirt hiked up to the upper half of my thighs, legs parted, biting my lip and clutching my pen for dear life as Nathaniel French kissed me under the table.

These hidden erotic exhibitions have been going on for a few weeks now. Nathaniel and I pick fights with each other over our many unresolved issues and then the tantalizingly merciless game begins. On most occasions we would play our little game in our English Literature lecture while Rose and the rest of the class discussed the destructive relationship between Cathy and Heathcliff, but as of late Nathaniel had felt the need to branch out. So far we'd gotten hot and heavy in the girls bathrooms at LiqFest, behind the campus bike shed, on one of the more secluded walkways between two student accommodation buildings, in one of the computer rooms, an empty classroom that we'd happened to find unlocked one day, and now the library. All of those locations and I had had not been permitted to reach the point of climax in any of them! Why? Because I still struggle to keep quiet. Any legible noise I make, he stops.

I've often thought about finishing myself off, but I never do because I've been instructed not to. As infuriating as this little game of his is, I enjoy the feel of all that pent up arousal building up every time he leaves me hanging -it makes me want him even more. We hadn't gone all the way yet, but when we do, it is sure to be earth-shattering after all of this prolonged foreplay.

I arched my back, pressing my lips to his lips as I fight back the quivering moan in my throat, trying to handle this illicit heaven in silence. Slowly I gyrate against his mouth as subtly as I can muster, causing the chair to creak in time with me. He grips my hips, holding me still, and then he pulls me closer so I can feel his desire deeper within me.

I grip the table and whimper. He retreats.

"Fuck!" I curse under my breath smacking my palm against the table top in frustration.

Nathaniel emerges from under the table, his electric eyes burn roguishly. I scowl at him and yank my skirt down.

He smirks at me, then licking his lips he says throatily, "Mmm; you were almost there baby."

He walks off leaving me alone with my maddening ache and a clenched fist with his name on it. After a few minutes of allowing my body to calm down, I gather my belongings, shove the physics text book into a random shelf, too annoyed to put it back where I got it from, and exit the building to take a much needed cold shower before I meet up with Tyson.

It's early December and Tyson and I had decided that before I completely abolish the miserable remains of my student loan, that we'd go Christmas shopping in Southside. To tell you the truth I'm not in the mood to go shopping, at least not with Tyson anyway. Ever since the night I'd thrown myself at him like some desperate housewife, the energy between us had been a little weird. We haven't really spoken about it and although that's more than fine with me, I know that we have to in order to move forward otherwise we'd just be stuck in this weird place of friends forcing friendship on each other. Tyson carries on as if nothing had happened and tries to carry on as normal, which I appreciate of course, but I feel as if we're watching what we say to each other sometimes. It's constantly like having the first conversation you have with a good friend after falling out every time we speak and I hate it. I hate it even more because I know it's my fault. This isn't us.