Page 86 of Sex Positive
“Wes,” she whispers as his phone rattles on the coffee table. Her fingers dance over his back, tracing circles across his skin. When he draws away this time, she’s left feeling cold.
He sits up on the couch, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, and jabs the screen.
“What?” he snaps. Charlie balks at the sudden ire in his voice. He sighs, tugging on his hair. “No, I’m not—You’re kidding, right? What difference would it have made?”
Faintly, she hears indiscernible shouting, growling anger from whomever is on the other side of the call.
“It doesn’t matter where I am right now, I don’t care about—”
Charlie flinches, his words dousing the heat that remained from what unfolded between them mere moments ago. Her skin pebbles, and she pulls the crocheted blanket over her body, covering everything from the neck down.
“Well, it’s too late now, isn’t it? I’ll be home when I’m home.”
He hangs up and throws the phone on the table with a clatter. His muscles bunch up, the tension in his body overt. Running his hands through his already wild hair, he tugs so hard that Charlie almost believes he’ll rip it from his scalp.
“Who was that?” she asks.
He clasps his hands under his chin. “My dad.”
A heavy silence fills the room. Charlie clings tighter to the blanket, her fingers digging into the handwoven fabric. Usually it seems soft, but it feels abrasive against her naked body.
“Is everything okay?”
He sighs heavily, shifting back on the couch. “My parents have a New Year’s Eve party every year.” He rubs a finger over his eyebrow. “Similar to the holiday one you attended, but…more. All this glitz and glamour, people sucking up to my mother and then asking for favors, and my dad pulling the strings in the background. They expected me to be there, like always, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it this time. I had Emilia say I was sick, but my dad figured out that was a lie this morning when I never made it to breakfast and my bedroom was empty.”
Charlie stares at him, her brain buzzing from his confession.
“And you camehereinstead?” His head snaps up at her sharp tone. “Why?”
A puzzled look crosses his face. “Because I wanted to. I missed this.”
“This?”
He sits up straight, squaring off to her. “Yes,this. Hanging out with you. Beingfriendswith you, Rogers. Everything feels better with you. It always has. I can forget my responsibilities and family obligations—”
“I can’t be that for you,” she snaps. “I can’t be adistractionfor you every time you can’t deal with your life. I’m not a cheap toy to be played with until something better comes along.”
Shock and hurt flash across his face, and she wonders if she went too far.
“Are you serious right now?” His mouth—that gifted, beautiful mouth—curls into a scowl. “Do you think I care so little that I would use you and toss you aside?”
He stands, and she watches him pull on his clothes, her anger slowly ebbing, only to be replaced by dull numbness.
I can’t do this. It’s too much. I can’t let him break me again.
“I don’t want to do the experiment anymore.”
He freezes in the middle of pulling on his shirt, then tugs it over his stomach. When he faces her, he doesn’t say anything, but she knows him well enough by now, has studied his features enough, to glimpse the nearly imperceptible change—the slight downturn of his lips, the faint crease between his brows, the slow blink.
She continues, “I have everything I need, and I don’t think it’s beneficial for either of us to continue any kind of physical relationship.”
“That’s all this has ever been for you,” he says.
“Isn’t that what it is for you?”
He doesn’t answer, his head tilted as he studies her. Her cheeks grow warm under his examination, his expression maddeningly inscrutable.
“I’ll still tutor you, of course,” she adds quickly. “But setting better boundaries will be crucial so you can focus on the test and avoid any unwanted distractions.”
