“You play dirty,” I accuse as I watch her shimmy into the kitchen.
“I know,” she yells back. “Get used to it.”
Get used to it?Baby, I welcome it.
I sit up and adjust myself, trying to contain the Headbanger’s Ball now raging in my pants.
After a minute of collective breathing, I follow Alana into the kitchen, with the ache still actively there. This girl is going to be the death of me.This girl?Mygirl. The thought lights me up inside.Mine.
I watch as she moves effortlessly through the kitchen, pulling out cups from the dark wood cabinets and milk from the stainless-steel refrigerator.
“Do you want plain, or do you want to try a flavored coffee?” she asks all cutesy, with her hair a tousled mess, and her shirt riding up over her stomach. It takes all the restraint I have not to force her down onto the countertop and have my wicked way with her.
Mine.
“Plain is fine.” I clear my throat as I picture her splayed across the cool, multicolored granite with me lying on top of her.Guy, get a motherfucking grip.
I turn and gaze out the wall of windows overlooking the house’s backyard. The smell of coffee engulfs the entire kitchen as it brews. The big, huge —I could live here with six family members and still have privacy —kitchen. The money Alana’s family has is unfathomable.
I stare mindlessly out one of the windows, taking in the picturesque grounds. Watching the sun glisten off the crystal blue pool, I can't help but wonder what it would've been like to grow up here. It's so much bigger than anything I'm used to, and it makes me realize just how different mine and Alana’s worlds really are. And how fucking much that scares me; because there will always be a tiny little voice in the back of my head reminding me I'll never be on par with her. That I might never be enough.
“What are you thinking about?” Her voice soft and seductive. My blood instantly heats.
“Nothing,” I lie, turning my head to her. “Just admiring the scenery.”
“That was some pretty intense admiring,” she observes.
“It's a beautiful backyard. It's easy to get lost in.” I pull her close and kiss the top of her head.
She hands me my coffee, already made, because she knows just how I like it. She’s always armed with some kind of caffeinated beverage, whether it’s straight-up black java or some froo-froo, frothy, flavored crap. And ever since we’ve been together, she usually has one for me, too.
“Is your uncle a judge, too?” I ask as Alana rests her head on my shoulder.
“No,” she responds sweetly. “He’s a lawyer. He owns one of the most renowned law firms in the city.”
“I see. Now I understand your major. It runs in the family.”
“Sort of.” She smirks. “Although I don’t think I’ll ever live up to the likes of my father or uncle. They’re both beyond brilliant.”
“I don’t think you should cut yourself short. You’re pretty brilliant.” I glance down at her, and she shies away from me with a little grin, pressing her face into my chest.
She gets so timid when I compliment her. I love it because it’s adorable, but I also hate it because I want her to let me in. All the way in. Without any insecurity or fear. She keeps fighting it. Fighting me. Even though we grew leaps and bounds last night, I just want to shake her and tell her it’s okay to feel. Okay to trust.
“Am I ever going to get to see where you live?” I ask. I don’t know what sparked the question. Maybe seeing all this, I’m curious about where she grew up.
“Sure, as long as my father’s not around.” She stands over by the island across from the refrigerator and places her coffee cup down.
“Why? Don’t want him to meet me?” I follow her.
She scoffs, “I don’t want you to meet him.”
“Because he won’t approve of us?” I quickly interject, standing in front of her now.
“Because he’s an asshole,” She’s unapologetically blunt.
Wow. Tell me how you really feel.
“And maybe a little bit because he won’t approve.”