My brain rolls its eyes at me muttering, “Yeah. Whatever.”
Okay. No. I don’t have Stockholm syndrome.
I know that part of it is because he’s gruff, and honest, and downright mean. I suppose you could say that I appreciate the ‘real’ in him. Lord knows my life has been sheltered so much, it’s a wonder my skin isn’t so pale it’s transparent.
My brain cheers ecstatically when his arms tighten around me a moment. Then he loosens his hold completely before standing quickly and making his way to the bathroom.
Nuts.
The shower turns on and I force myself out of bed. It’s no fun without him anyways. Standing up, I stretch, wearing only a huge ass Nox tank and my panties, which I cleaned in the bathroom sink, then rummage through the black bag. Leaning forward, my head snaps up when the bathroom door opens and Nox stands there wearing that tiny, skimpy towel again. I fight the urge to sigh dreamily and ask as steadily as I can, “Need somethin’?”
Flicking his chin towards the black bag, he looks down at the tank I’m wearing a long moment before he replies, “Boxers.”
Rolling up a black pair, I throw them at him, and as soon as he catches them, he slams the door shut.
Curious as to what he was looking at, I turn my head to the side and look down at my oversized makeshift pajamas.
Oh, for the love of- Great. Just great.
Nox saw my sideboob.
My cheeks flush. At least he didn’t see nipple. Just pasty-white side-boob.
Side-boob won’t affect anything. What do I care? I’ve seen his bare ass. His mighty fine bare ass. I wonder what it would feel like. It looks like you could bounce a quarter off it.
As my mind wanders, Nox opens the door and asks, “Want a shower before breakfast?”
Wanting to get out of this confined space as quickly as possible, I spray myself with his deodorant before throwing it to him. He sprays himself and throws it back. I respond with, “Nah. Let’s go.”
Slipping on my now clean workout pants, Nox stops me with the stink eye and an, “Uh, no.”
“Excuse me?”
Shaking his head, he looks down at my ensemble through furrowed brows. “You’re not going out like that, Lily. Put somethin’ else on.”
I’m not quite sure what the problem is here. “What’s wrong with what I’ve got on?”
Walking up to me, he pinches the bottom of the tank between his forefinger and thumb and announces, “This is not appropriate for down there.”
Ha! I know what this is about now. I chuckle while shaking my head slowly, “Is this because of this morning’s side-boob?”
His face turns confused. “Side- side-” Lifting his hands to his head, he rubs his temples slowly as if he’s getting a headache and mutters, “I’m not sure I wanna know, but what the fuck is side-boob?”
Rolling my eyes, I respond, “So you saw the side of my boob. It’s all good. I’ve seen you’re your ass, so we’re even. C’mon.”
Walking toward the door, Nox says firmly, “I’m serious, Lily. You’re not goin’ out like that. It’s just askin’ for trouble. Put on a damn bra.”
Who knew Nox was a prude?
I shoot back, “I don’t have a damn bra! If you remember, I didn’t exactly pack for this trip!”
Visibly calming himself, he breathes deeply and replies on an exhale, “Fine. That’s fine. Then you’ll just have to wear another tee or somethin’, because I can see- see- your- uh- side-boob.”
Score one: Lily.
Smiling angelically, I take the tee from his outstretched hand. My fingers brush his and I ask sweetly, “Why didn’t you just say so then?”
My brain claps and pulls an impressed face.
Did I just flirt with Nox?
***
Another big breakfast this morning goes down well. This time, I order the tomato and cheese omelet and it’s moist and fluffy. Just heavenly. Chasing that with Nox’s pancakes once again, and a glass of OJ, I watch while he orders yet another platter of sandwiches and flirts with the sweet waitress from the day before.
Why doesn’t he flirt with me like that?
I fight the urge to pout and let him drag me along. My belly’s getting the better of me again, half way there, he has to piggyback me. He says, “Maybe I should just buy you a wheelchair.”
I can’t help but laugh and laugh right in his ear.
It seems that food, mixed with copious amounts of horny, equals drunk.
Which brings us to now. Third day in our little love shack. Minus the love.
I’m secretly looking forward to going to bed tonight, just so I can feel those arms around me again. My mood has improved three-hundred percent. Nox’s by about thirty-seven percent.