Why did I have this sneaking suspicion that my mom knew what I was reading. . .Wait - Could she see what I was reading? Her eyes felt like lasers - her looks transferred between me and the tv, blazing through book's text.
I couldn't even read this damn book in peace.
Was it wrong of me that I was reading an erotic fiction while my mom was three feet away from me, seated on the couch?
I was cuddled up on an armchair, trying to read in peace, as my mom was seated not so far from me. And if I could've, I would've went somewhere else, somewhere private but this - for the time being - was the only available spot. Could I have sat on the porch outside? Sure but then I would have a whole neighborhood watch knowing what I was reading. The backyard? The chairs are dirty and I don't particularly like insects. My old childhood bedroom? My dad had been occupying that spot for the whole two weeks I had been staying here. The living room was the best option.
Since my dad had been on bedrest, we thought to transfer him into my old room. The bed was big. Close to a bathroom. And closer to the kitchen and front door. Vs. their room which was located far back in the house. My dad needed an easier way to get around the house and my old room was the best out of the options.
Hoped he liked looking at old Mindless Behavior posters.
And him in that room meant that I was staying on the couch. And I had no problem with it. I offered, shit. My parents needed extra help around the house and my mom needed extra help with helping with my dad. Yeah my dad would wine about it and demand that he was fine and that he didn't need help, but we knew better. During the first week of my staying, that was all that was heard. Declaring that we are extra and that he was a grown man. Second week, it got easier. He accidentally had a slip when showering and I think that's when he knew that he needed to accept the extra help. So after school and after work, I would just come to my parent's house and help out, sleepover. (My mom did the hands-on stuff.)
So no one can blame me when I said that I was reading an erotic book. Right in front of my mother too.
But could she even really see? I was covering the cover of the book and title with my cover and I had the thing nuzzled deep inside my embrace. But fuck, what did she except? Sometimes a girl needed a release. Needed a horny release. A grown women reading an erotic book was something normal.
But I just didn't quite want my mother to see. . .
During these two weeks, I saw Vance- mostly in class. We had two five minute conversations inside the classroom when class was over. It was cool. There was no touchy touchy feely though. The last time the man had touched me was when we were at the hospital, awaiting for my dad to wake up. Since then no other touching had occurred. No grazes of his hand when he passed me by, in class, when he was checking our finished foods. No bump of the shoulder when he was refilling his coffee in the morning, in the main kitchen. No nothing.
I didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing. Maybe a good thing? Now I didn't have to question whether those touches meant more. . .Now I didn't have to worry about where we stood. . .
Fuck, I was lying.
It was a bad thing. Just needed to see which part was more bad. The part where I actually missed his hands or the part where I - needed to remember this - wanted my teacher to touch me? Shit, double jeopardy.
Right? Double jeopardy meant two similar crimes could not be charged? Maybe both crimes will cross each other out and I won't be charged at all since they are so similar?
Fuck, that's not it. But I was too horny to think about what meant what. I was officially on the part in the book where shit was happening. And by 'shit' I meant a girl was about to go down on her professor. Was it sick that I was reading a book about teacher and student relationship? As I stated before - I was too horny to think.
Right when I saw the word cock appear, I closed the book. This was wrong. This was very wrong. My mother only a few steps away while I was over here squirming in my seat. It was a sin. No, a felony.
I would have said, fuck it arrest me if I was under different circumstances but today- that was not the case. Some guy would be arriving here any second and I didn't want him to see me all hot and heavy. My eyes glossy. And I sure didn't want anyone taking a peak at the book that I was reading.
Hell would fucking freeze over before that happened.
So that was why I put the book down. Yes I needed a release but - I looked down at my phone, the time - it could wait. The man would be here any second.
I dropped the book in my bag and angled the blanket more on my legs then looked at the tv. For some reason, it seemed like my mother's gaze was no longe burning. Actually to really think about it now - since I put my crime away in my bag - she only had looked over a few times. It probably felt like she was baring into me because of what I was doing. When you're doing something 'bad' it always felt like all eyes were on you.
Luckily only my mom's eyes are down here in the living room. My dad was upstairs completing his regular sleep/nap time schedule. It usually occurred mid-day.
Everything was right on schedule. Things are following the routine. But something had happened last night that caused a little dent in our scheduled programing. Our fucking washing machine broke. I was about to insert my dad's and I clothes into the machine but then I noticed a gang of water already inside. The water hadn't drained from the last time someone used it and also my mom said that it wasn't spinning properly. The thing was fucked.
This morning my mom called up some people - didn't know who - and they said they would come over to fix it. When she got off the phone, she had given me a little smile. I was a little confused at that but didn't dive deep into it. I had other things to worry about - my book.
I pulled the cover up more, snuggled in and leaned my head back against the chair then closed my eyes. Remembering the words that were on that page. Envisioning them. Surely my mom could not read my thoughts. She would disown me if she could because my mind. . .whew. Too hard to summarize in one sentence.
The doorbell went ding and that had my eyes pop back open. I sat up more in my chair. Took a glance at my mom to see if she was in a getting up position, she looked nice and comfy on the couch. Great so she was going to make me answer the door for some random man? When I get kidnapped, I don't want to hear anything from her. I better not see any she's missing signs.
My slippers dragged across our wooden floors and then I was sectioned in front the door. One hand landed on the knob, one turn of the knob had the door swing open and I was met face-to-face, well face-to-chest with Vance.
Excuse the fuck out of me?
I needed to close this door fast and rechange into something presentable because I looked like fucking shit. Had I known that this man would be the one fixing our washing machine I would have put something on more. . .What's the word? Oh yeah, fucking slutty. It would look like a damn Victoria Secret runway show. (Not that they are slutty. They were not slutty.) No pants. No shorts. No shirts. Only bra and underwear present on body. Internal wink, easy access.
Oh wait - my parents are here too. Then I would just look the regular slutty. My special crop, crop top with my short shorts. My best look, to be honest.
Instead of the look I had on now - pajama pants with a big t-shirt covering. Slippers on feet. A winter beanie containing my knotted hair that I hadn't felt like dealing with. I struggled for at least twenty minutes trying to put it in a slick bun so fuck that, I gave up on trying to do my hair when I was in my parent's house. Oh how I wished I combed through at least a portion of it so I could wear braids because right now? I was going to repeat this - I looked like shit.
Vance - of course - looked the fucking opposite.
My eyes went lower - trailing down his big body - and landed on his hands. His hands that are gripping a toolbox handle. Why did that somehow make him look even sexier than before? Why couldn't I wait to watch him fix something? Curse when something doesn't fit right. . .Maybe he will hit something. . .The slapping sound would bless my ears. I wanted him to insert a screwdriver all the way up my-
Shit, I needed to take a breather.
My mind. . .God, my mind.
My eyes traveled back up. Vance's were equally blazing - Blazing for a kiss? A hug? A quick fuck up against the door? The world would never know because my mom's voice was heard and sliced through the air. Our gazes switched to her.
"Vance? So glad you could make it." Her tone was extra chippy.
Extra fucking chippy. So, she was not going to inform me that Vance was the person she was talking to? That he would be making an appearance at my parents house for the first time? She wasn't going to give me a head ups like, 'Hey Vance is coming, where your sexiest outfit.' All that smiling and peaking at me through the whole morning was not because of the damn book I was reading. It was because of this man.
I needed to hit something.
Wait - how did she even get his number? I briefly remember a time back in the hospital when the two were alone, but I was just guessing that she was talking about me. Maybe exchanging formal introductions. Not a 'lets exchange numbers and then I will invite you over my house when my daughter looks shitty to fix our washing machine'.
And shit, Vance didn't even tell me. Probably thought I already knew since this was where I was staying but dammit, he couldn't send a simple text like About to pull up or what time do I come again? to give me some knowledge that he would be in my presence.
"No problem Jasmine." Vance replied. First name bases, huh?
Realizing he was still outside, I side stepped to the side and let him come in. He had to crouch slightly in the doorway to get inside. Once again, reminding me of his height.
My mom with the manners she always had said, "Thank you again Vance. Do you want a cup of something? Juice? Or a bottle of water before you start?"
"Yes, water." Another step inside the house. "Thank you." Then took two more steps.
Once he was fully inside, I finally took a nice long look at this man - in my parent's house. A crazy fucking sight. For some crazy reason the sight made me warm all over. Won't be diving deep into why though anytime soon folks, sorry.
His presence inside our house also made a ton of other questions rise. One was, "Mom, how did you and Vance- how did you get Vance here?"
Was it a dumb question? Maybe I could've worded it better but I needed to know why and how she got him here. And also why he agreed.
Call me a nosey bitch.
She closed the refrigerator, now with a water bottle in hand and came back into the entryway.
"Well back at the hospital." She started. "Vance and I were talking and I made a little joke and said that if we ever have any problems, he was going to be the first person I called." Now I wished that I had corrected her about that 'boyfriend' title. "He told me a little story about how when he was growing up, he used to fix appliances all over the house. Then when the washing machine broke, I just thought of Vance. He needed to come visit the house anyway. I was killing two birds with one stone." Her smile became extra wide as she finished off that last sentence.
She looked guilty. . .Her smile made her look guilty. She probably broke the washing machine herself. She was such a match making type of person, I wouldn't put it past her.
Vance took the water bottle and a thank you left his mouth. Then he asked where the washing machine was. My mom acted like she had no idea what that word meant or where it was stationed because all she said to us before leaving to go in the kitchen was a, "Oh River will show you the way."
Both of our shoes were producing sound as we make our way to the back of the house. The laundry area. We arrived in front of two appliances. Dryer - which was actually working properly - and washer. I informed him on the weird stuff that was happening - spinner wasn't spinning and water leaking, plus the water already inside.
"You have a fucked up control board and a clogged drain pump filter."
I nodded my head acting like I understood, but in reality I had no idea what that meant.
"Which means that we need to look on google to find the codes to fix the control board and we need a bucket to drain the water. Plus fix the filter."
Only one thing was heard during that whole speech. The word we. We? Yes my priorities were fucked.
He caught my look. "River, I need your help."
Do I hear wedding bells? Was I hearing wedding bells? Those words did things to me. My name and need in the same sentence? He might as well proposed to me. My insides were on a pogo stick. Heart jumping.
It was scary how fast a couple words could turn me into a melting mess-
"I need a bucket and some towels." I could tell he was very used to bossing people around. Hell, he did it everyday I bet. Hell, most times I got off on it. But today, we are in my house and to get me moving he needed to say the magic word.
"Please." He added on when I stayed in the same spot. The magic word was dildo but fuck it, I'll take it.
I moved away from Vance and made my way to get the stuff he requested. I saw my dad's door slightly open and took a look inside. He was sleep, snoring loudly. Now I knew why he was in a totally separate room. Damn he snored like a bull. But he looked peaceful. Very at peace. Vance was definitely the right person to help us fix the washer. I didn't even want to know what would happen if my dad bent over to check out the back of the machine. Vance was the best bet. Could've called Jett but he probably knew less than me about that stuff. I remember one time, our tire popped and we got stuck on the road and Jett knew jack shit about fixing one. Erin and I had to figure it out for ourselves. I had some basic knowledge on how to change a tire so we eventually got it on. Come to think of it, the whole time Erin and I were back there - changing a tire -, Jett was in the car on his phone playing fucking flappy bird.
Oh when I see that motherfucker, I was going to-
"Sweetie what do you need?" My mom snapped me out from my murderous thoughts.
I looked around - oh I ended up in the kitchen already? My thoughts had distracted me. "I just need a bucket. I'll get the towel."
"A bucket? For what?"
I honesty had no idea myself but if I had to guess, "To drain out the water."
With that, she turned around and went into some cupboard and pulled out a bucket. Didn't even know we had one. And I turned around, a thanks went her way, and went to the bathroom. Shit, I took one look in the mirror and shit. It was already known that I looked like a mess so I couldn't fix it now. He would know that I was trying to show out in front of him. Did I want him to know that?
Good question, River.
I grabbed a clean towel out from the shelf and went back over to where Vance was.
Vance who looked ten-motherfucking-times-hotter with his shirt off. Well technically not all the way off. Sorry, technically still on. He just took his hoodie off. His short sleeved shirt and tight shirt showing all the reasons why I liked men. Showing all the reason why I wanted, no needed to be suffocated into that embrace. His embrace.
My eyes transferred up to his mouth when I heard sound producing. "Sorry?" Did he notice me staring at him? Was there drool on my lip?
"I said hand them over to me and thank you."
His voice had an edge to it. He was annoyed at having to repeat himself. Well too bad my stupidity was his fucking fault for looking like. . .ugh. . .that. Shit, I couldn't even describe it. I saw a muscle in his jaw tense when I still hadn't moved out from my position.
This just became my new favorite game.
I readjusted the things, better to hold in my hand. "Sorry, repeat that again?"
"I said can-"
"Can you speak a little louder? My dad's snores are all that-"
My mouth was no longer moving because Vance had advanced up from out of his squatting position and was coming toward me. Face neutral. Had I already pushed him enough? I thought for sure this engagement was going to last at least another minute.
His hands moved quick. He grabbed the towel first, placed it on the back on his shoulder then grabbed the bucket. His fingers slightly bushed against mine when he made connect to get the bucket and. . .oh lord that was a crime. My senses becoming this hyperaware was a crime.
What came out his mouth next and still in close proximity to him produced a mass amount of butterflies to plant themselves inside my stomach. I was a shaking mess. "Don't play."
Oh how that sentence made me what do to the opposite. . .Shit, I would play anything. Play the cello. Play fucking flappy bird. Play with his head.
Like how he was always doing with me. His actions are playing with my head. His words are fucking me up. I needed some type of how-to-not-read-into-anything guide and quick before my feelings started to arise.
I blinked and spotted Vance now located back near the washer. The washer that had now been pushed out and turned around. He was seated on some step stool - which I didn't know we had - and was looking at some back panel machine shit. That was probably the control board which he was fixing that would restore the right spinning cycle.
I felt like sucking his dick.
Now, now before I get the ew or you're a slut comments- everyone needed to get a real clear picture on why I had made that statement. (And I needed to add on that the action would only happen when Vance gave me the consent to do it.) Vance looked fucking edible. That was always known but something about seeing him work with the nit and grit did something to me. Remember when that video went out of Henry Cavill fixing a computer? The girls and gays went bonkers. It's something about seeing a man doing activities with their hands that always got the people going.
'No one knows what it means but it's provocative. It gets the people going.'
That statement applied to many things. Applied to this.
But my horniness did need to chill down a bit. I could agree with that. Vance brought out the worst in me but I could control it. My actions that is. But my mind? Oh that was a whole other issue.
I reverted my gaze to the washer itself. The leaking was still occurring. I decided to use these hands for a good use - I grabbed the bucket that was on the floor and crouched down, the drops now landed in the bucket. I raised my head and was met with Vance's eyes. I said, "This good?"
He nodded his head.
For the next hour, an actual conversation was occurring. Not just one word, simple answers. Full sentences were exchanging. Also, our hands were at work. Vance was doing most of the heavy lifting but things are getting done. We figured out the codes to fix the machine control board and fixed the spinning, so that was good. After I got a vacuum - Vance said it was an easier way to help drain the water out faster - the washer was coming together. A few more questions went by. A few more drops landed inside the bucket. The water inside the washer went down quick. When all the water drained, Vance did some magic to the drain hose in the back and then- boom the washer was fixed.
We sat up and looked at the finishing project. My smile was big. "Ah, it's fixed."
Vance bent down to pick up some of the leftover stuff - wipes, trash, anything of that order. "Yep, it will work like it's brandy new."
My mom's voice was heard before I even thought about opening my mouth and starting a new conversation with him.
"You guys fixed it?" Her head was poking out from around the corner.
"Yep, the washer should be working now."
"Great." Her body now fully present. Her eyes fell on Vance. "Vance since you won't let me pay you, why don't you stay for dinner? I am making my famous souse dish."
The smell hit me fast - the godly smell hit me. Damn, I was too caught up in Vance that I hadn't even noticed that my mom was making her famous soup dish. Passed down from generation, through generations. Another one of my favorite dishes to ever grace this family. But she usually made this dish for special occasions. . .This had me raise an eyebrow.
Cupid was pulling out all her tricks today I see.
Vance hadn't answered. I looked back his way and I saw him drying off his hands with a paper towel. Did he even want to stay? I could see it from his point: my student that was bestfriends with my sister and that I fucked once mom was asking me to stay for dinner at their house? Yeah it sounded a little weird but - I may go to hell for this - I didn't give a fuck. If Vance chose to say yes and sit down at our dinner table, eating souse and engaging in conversation. . .I couldn't find a reason to why that would be so bad. Yes speaking realistically, this was just trouble but we already fucked.
And I gave no fuck.
The answer that came out of Vance's mouth had my heart fluttering. Oh shit, the butterflies were back. "Yeah, yes. You really don't have to pay me back but yeah." He threw his trash in the bin behind him.
"Oh great!" My mom's voice was getting higher. "Let me go prepare you a seat and River get your dad down here."
She turned on her heel and had an extra skip to her walk. I also turned and faced the man who had me giddy all afternoon. My hands found his, entwined, then squeezed.
"Thank you for fixing our washing washing." I hoped my eyes were showing the emotion I was trying to get through, appreciation.
He didn't say anything to that. I didn't give him the chance to even reply back because my hands disconnected from his and I walked fast away from him and to where my dad was situated. I finally let out a big breath. I needed to have a refresh on what was going on. A little rundown of what was about to happen: Vance about to have dinner at my house. With my parents. While I looked like utter shit.
Why was I acting like a teenager who just invited her boyfriend over to her parents house for dinner? Really only one answer. One answer really. This answer was deep and gave a very insightful look into my brain. The answer - Vance.
Yep, just plain and simple. Because Vance. It spoke volumes.
My I hope Vance had no trouble coming to the kitchen thought was answered as I spot him now in one of the dinning room chairs. My dad's arm still lopped around my shoulder as we are walking toward his seat. I placed my dad in his chair - ignored Vance's eyes - and went to go help my mom in the kitchen. She was grabbing bowls out from the cabinet.
I eyed her carefully. "So you have Vance's number?" I don't know. . .call me crazy but something about them texting together just made me itch.
"Don't worry this was the first time we ever texted and called. I will only use his number for an emergency. Also, for an appliance emergency if anything else decided to break."
What did that mean? Was she going to start collecting dog bones and shoving them down the drain so things would start breaking and that Vance would have to come here again?
Wait - that idea didn't sound half bad. Vance coming here, a second time, was something I could get on board with. Maybe we could be in cahoots? She had the job of stealing the bones while I had the job of shoving them down places, drains. It could work.
I grabbed another bowl out from the cabinet and started to help her with serving the food. I heard some murmurs coming from the dinning room area. I wonder what Vance and my dad were talking about? The big spoon was in my hand and I started to put the soup into both of the bowls. Filled them up right to the top.
A few minutes later, we found ourselves deep down in our bowls and smacking away. It seemed liked everyone liked their dish which was duh - It seemed like Vance liked his dish. There was a light conversation going around the table. My mom asked what he did - he said chef and teacher. I wonder if her or my dad would connect the dots. They didn't because not a second later, another topic was talked over the table. Vance hadn't said much but every question my mom swung at him, he hit it right in the ball park. I noticed how he was trying to contribute to the different conversations. That was why my smile was extra bright - he was trying.
My mother had almost said the whole word boyfriend once or twice but I already covered it up with a cough coming out from my mouth or a subject change, also from me. I really should've known to correct her but fuck- it was too late now.
The next hour things started to wine down. The dishes had been cleared off the table and washed. Our drink glasses were empty. Both of my parents had turned in for the night, now somewhere upstairs.
Only us two left.
My suggestion to Vance for us to watch a movie in the living room was more purely a surge of the moment thing. I didn't think he would say yes. I thought he was going to turn me down and make up some story on why he needed to get home fast and vacuum his grass. Or just state that he needed to get home, because it was already dark outside. But nope, my suggestion was actually happening. We are sitting down on my mother's couch - inches away - and watching The Maze Runner. Which I had seen many, many times before but when I was scrolling through the suggestions on Google Play and landed on Maze Runner, Vance had said he never seen it. I clicked play so quick and told him to get ready to watch greatness.
"Sure." Was his snorted response.
The cover that was on top of us began to slip down and I yanked it back up. It felt hot though. I felt really hot sitting this close to Vance.
"Rest your head here." He said and laid a hand on his chest. He probably noticed my trying-to-get-comfortable wiggling. No I wasn't doing it on purpose, I just couldn't get fucking comfortable on this couch.
I followed his order and laid my head back, onto his chest. I did that as well as ignoring the banging, thumping, hammering of my heart's beat. Okay, okay I will admit that the butterflies were very here but had also somehow transformed into something bigger.
One of his hands secured around one of mine under the cover. Then squeezed.
No, no, no a million times no. This was something that would get me in trouble. Get my heart in trouble. Hand holding? Cuddling up and watching a movie? With the sex, I could pretend it was nothing more. Even though I wasn't doing that, I could act like I was not over analyzing it. Could just put in it the category under friends with benefits. But these other heart-pounding actions? Those I could not write off as a friends with benefits thing.
And in his embrace I found myself wondering. . .why did I like those things even better than the sex?
His hand holding. His voice. His laugh. The way he got this knot in the middle of his eyebrows when he was focused on something. The way he looked when he was teaching a class. The way his eyes shined when he got to a student that did the dish correct. The way he looked and talked to his little sister. The way he acted around my parents. They way he looked at me.
The way that I was coming to a realization. . .the realization that I was falling for Vance.
Oh, shit. I was in deep shit.
***
| A/N: I watched a whole twenty minute portion of a video on how to fix a washing machine to write this chapter. Boring as shit. The things I do. . . |
| Once again, thank you for sticking with me and this story ! |