Never Been Kissed(70)

Fuck, baby. Do you think you could want me back?

Gah, what a thing to say. I can’t breathe just thinking about it. How many times has he put himself out there – for me? Telling me he wants me?

And we haven’t even kissed yet.

As soon as there was a little light outside, I high-tailed it out of there. Now, I’m watching Sunday morning cartoons. Where did the Power Rangers go? Or what about old school Sonic the Hedgehog, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? I swear, if Dora asks me one more question, I’m going to throw the remote at the screen and never have access to Netflix again.

A knock comes at the door, while my phone vibrates at my feet, which are settled on my coffee table. I take the door first, checking peephole like a good girl.

Opening the door, I try and settle my face into an uncaring smile, like I’m too good for you, but you can have me if you really want. As long as you buy me diamonds later for all the suffering I’ll have to go through. I’m not sure I get it quite right, though.

Hunter MacLaine is a big guy; my doorframe the perfect border to his portrait. Swoon-worthy. Totally. He’s wearing that black hoodie again, a plain black t-shirt, and sweats. Oh yeah, those badass boots that I imagine him taking me in. And now I’m red. Awesome.

“Hey.” I do a stupid wave, like we’re a football field apart instead of three feet. Dork.

Hunter nods at me. “Uh, does Matty need Peter Pan again or something?” I ask, scratching the skin under my cast as much as I can.

Hunter clears his throat, blue eyes unreadable. “I wanted to spend the day with you.”

Sweet; he’s sweet. Then why do I want to throw up, and my throat hurts, I want to cry and run away, screaming my head off? He’s not my friend; I don’t know how to act with a man, alone, in my apartment.

“Alright,” I say, sounding like him spending the day with me is even worse than the Daleks taking over the known Universe. I clear my throat. “I was just gonna stay in, watch some TV, movies, maybe read. You’re welcome to join, if you want.”

He grins at me, that stranger’s look on his face has disappeared. “I apparently have to watch Pirates of the Caribbean. I’m under strict orders.”

I laugh, a nervous titter. I keep scratching at my right arm, that area under the cast that smarts like a mother. I swallow, and step back into my apartment, opening the door wider for him to come in.

“Where’s the little guy?” I ask, glancing back into the hall once Hunter’s inside.

“I wanted to be alone with you today. The kid steals my thunder.”

“Well...yeah. Have you met him?” I close the door, lock it, and move into my kitchen, hyperaware by the tingles on my back that Hunter is behind me and following me wherever I go. “Do you want something to drink, eat?” He shakes his head no. “You’ll let me know when you need anything? Alright. Lemme get the movie started.”

After nabbing a glass of water for myself, and blushing when I use my Star Wars coasters (mine has Han Solo on it), I pop in Pirates into my DVD player and hit play.

“Whose shirt are you wearing, baby?” Frak, I love it when he calls me baby. No, I adore it.

“Uh, mine. You like?” I turn away from the DVD player and face him. Sitting on my couch, he makes the thing look dainty. He sits with his legs splayed open, knees cocked. I know I’m not brave enough yet to walk between his legs, straddle him while I sit on his lap and kiss him until I can’t breathe. But maybe one day...soon.

I hold out the navy t-shirt with the word SAMCRO written on the chest, displaying my love for the show Sons of Anarchy.

Hunter’s eyebrows lower. “Yeah, but I want to know who it belongs to.”

I frown at him, taking in his rigid shoulders and tightened jaw. “It’s mine, Hunt. I’m not a klepto.”

“Whose was it before it was yours?”

The question throws me. Well, whose was it before it was mine? Does the online store actually make the shirts to order? Or are there some just waiting around to be delivered... or even, have some been returned and that’s the one that’s on me right now?

“I don’t actually know.”

His whole body winds up tighter as he leans forward, elbows on his knees. His face is the epitome of serious, and that’s sexy hot, too. Frak! “Did an ex-boyfriend give that to you?”

I stumble on my way to the couch, tripping over his foot and crashing into the leather and half his body. I start laughing, from embarrassment and his ludicrous thought process.

“Are you serious? I wear my shirts big, Hunt. I got it on-line, actually. Sweet deal, too.” I laugh, heaving myself up to stand between his legs. Hands on his hard thighs, I lean close to him, smiling still, and gather up what little courage I have and kiss him on the cheek.