So, That Got Weird

by Amelia Kingston

  “I’ll be entering an MBA program next fall, if I’m lucky enough to get another scholarship, that is.” Austin puts my pizza in with his before turning back toward my father with an easy confidence. I’ve always seen Austin as strong, but juxtaposed to my father, he’s both young and powerful.

  My father has a way of making me feel small, in both stature and importance. I’m dwarfed in comparison, somehow perpetually the eight-year-old little girl who needs to learn not to interrupt the adults. But Austin commands the room with the simple way he carries himself. For the first time in my life, I see my father not as some unquestionable force, but as what he is. Just another man. It’s oddly empowering.

  “I have no doubt, if you continue in your dedication to your studies, you will receive one,” my father acknowledges.

  I gloat at the understated compliment.

  Before long, the three of us are digging into our pizzas. It’s good. I’ve always been more of a deep-dish girl, but Austin’s simple thin crust is delicious.

  “This is amazing!” I profess with a slight groan of delight. Even my father can’t deny it.

  “Quite good indeed,” he adds, a roaring endorsement as far as my father is concerned.

  “I’m glad you both enjoyed it.” Austin has a humble but satisfied smile. It’s beautiful on his handsome face and I desperately want to kiss him. Really kiss him, the kind of kiss that isn’t appropriate in front of my father. I bite my lip to resist the urge and Austin catches me. I don’t hear him laugh, but the shake of his shoulders tells me he’s holding one back.

  I clear the plates in front of us after we finish eating, not believing the night has gone by so quickly. The three of us have made happy small talk all throughout dinner with my father and Austin casually chatting about business, both Austin’s classes and my father’s experiences. I don’t think they’ll be going out for beers any time soon, but it seems as if my father approves of Austin, at least as much as my father ever approves of anyone.

  Austin is charming. His easy confidence never falters. Grown men are usually intimidated by my father, but not Austin. He’s discussing the benefits of a market economy, capital expenditures and managing operating expenses. He makes being sexy seem as easy as breathing.

  Austin steps behind me and places a hand on my hip as he deposits the rest of the dirty dishes in the sink. Throughout the night he has treated me to these soft, innocent touches here and there. A hand on my knee, a brush of my hair behind my ear, a gentle kiss to my temple. Each time they spark a sweet heat in my chest that radiates in waves throughout my body, making me flush. A week ago, a man touching me, even innocently, in front of my father would have freaked me out. Now, I yearn for those fleeting touches. Austin has already conditioned my body to respond to the simplest of caresses.

  “I am afraid we are not being the best dinner companions.” My father’s voice interrupts my enjoyment of Austin’s proximity. “Beth has never had much interest in business.”

  Austin places another soft kiss on my temple. “Sorry if we’re boring you, darling.” The slightest undertone of sarcasm is just enough to tell me he’s teasing me with the term of endearment. I hate them and I think he knows it. Every pet name he’s used tonight—darling, sweetie, honey, dear—all leave his mouth with an annoying hint of condescension. I like when he calls me Goose. It isn’t some generic platitude to show people we are special to each other. It’s just for us.

  “It has been a lovely evening, but I am afraid it is getting rather late. I should be heading home,” my father declares, standing and grabbing his suit jacket off the back of his chair. I hadn’t noticed he’d taken it off. He rarely does, even at home. The sight fills me with pride, knowing that my father actually relaxed and might have even enjoyed his evening in with me. With us. Usually our ‘family time’ leaves me with the feeling that our visits are a chore for him, just one more in his long list of responsibilities. Tonight was different. Because of Austin.

  “I’ll walk you out, Richard,” Austin calls after him.

  The door shuts behind them and in the quiet of my empty apartment, a rush of happiness washes over me. I was terrified when Austin blew into my apartment like a hurricane, but he made my evening. For the first time in my life, I think my father actually likes me. Tonight, with Austin by my side, I almost felt normal. One dinner with my boyfriend—or whatever he is—and the way my father sees me is changing. I’m a person and not a walking mistake. Maybe it’s because around Austin I’m finally starting to feel like a woman. God, how cheesy is that? But it’s true. Austin makes me feel powerful, sexy, worshiped. Maybe he’s right. Maybe somewhere inside me there’s a sexual goddess.

  This moment must be celebrated. I turn on my stereo and crank my favorite oldies station. Mel Carter’s Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me flows out of my speakers and I can’t help but close my eyes and sing along as I dance in my living room. I’m belting out the second verse when I hear Austin’s snicker and nearly jump out of my skin. I don’t hesitate to grab a pillow off the couch and throw it at his head. He catches it without even flinching, which just makes me angrier. Damn him and his athletic reflexes.

  “I thought you left!” I screech.

  “I gathered as much. Please, don’t stop on my account.”

  I respond only with a scoff, so he sings in a cheesy dramatic tone as he struts up to me. He wraps his arms around my waist when he reaches me, singing, “Kiss me.” So I kiss him, fusing my lips to his. His singing gets softer as he kisses a trail along my jaw and we sway to the music. In an instant the atmosphere in the room changes. This isn’t pretend anymore.

  The playful air is clouded by a thick fog of unspoken emotions. He continues to sing softly in my ear, pleading for me to never let him go. The words of the love song become a promise. He pulls me into his arms and it feels like home. It feels like forever.

  “Make me tell you…” The whisper dies in my ear. He doesn’t finish the lyric—I’m in love with you. He leans back and all I see are his eyes peering down into mine. The rest of the world melts away and the two of us are all that ever has been or ever will be.

  He isn’t singing anymore and we stopped swaying. I’m seized by the electricity surging between our bodies. The sound of our racing hearts fills the room. His lips crash onto mine and I can feel his fervor and devotion, his heart reaching out for mine.

  This is the moment, the one I will never recover from. My life is now divided in two. There is before this kiss and there is after. I cling to the now, to this blissful moment, scared to face the new world and the possibilities it holds.

  Too soon the song ends and our moment is over. Austin steps away quickly, not even looking at me. I’m desperate to see his face, to know he’s as affected as I am. But he doesn’t let me.

  “Well, it’s late. I’m gonna head out.” He’s at the door before I can even object. He turns back to me for the briefest of seconds. “Sorry again about crashing your night. Guess we’re even now.” His smirk is locked in place, but his eyes don’t hold the same fearlessness. For the first time, I see Austin Jacobs flustered.

  Chapter Nine

  Austin

  Shit.

  Damn it.

  Fuck!

  I bolt out of Elizabeth’s apartment knowing I fucked up. I fucked up bad. I got caught up playing boyfriend with her. It was stupid to sing along to that damn old song she had playing. It didn’t mean anything.

  She doesn’t mean anything.

  Just a job.

  Except, Elizabeth isn’t just anything.

  She looked at me like I was her everything. I’ve never had anyone see me that way. Plenty of girls stare. I get eye-fucked on the daily. I’m an ice cream on a hot summer afternoon, a quick, easy treat. A momentary distraction from whatever shit is weighing on them. With Elizabeth, it’s like she made a wish and can’t believe it’s come true. Get the fuck over yourself.

  She’s having fun with the novelty of a boy toy.

  She isn’t your
s.

  You’ve got another three weeks of fooling around and playing games. Then, you walk away.

  When I get home I have a text from her, asking the same question I did earlier.

  Goose: Still on for Tuesday?

  Me: Sure thing, boss.

  * * * *

  I don’t text or talk to her at all on Monday. It’s the first day in a week that we haven’t seen each other. Good. I need a break from her.

  I dodge Devin’s call and flake on our regular gym session. I don’t need another lecture from him.

  At afternoon practice, I push myself harder than I have all season, throwing myself into drills. The coaches appreciate it. Montgomery doesn’t since it gives them more time to ride his lazy ass.

  “Pick up the pace, Montgomery. My grandma can run smarter routes!” our receiver’s coach shouts across the field. He jogs over to me as we both catch our breath and wait for the next set of drills.

  “Still chasing little Miss Never-gonna-give-it-up?” Monte quips. I ignore him. “No wonder you’re hustling. Trying to take your mind off those blue balls.”

  “Why are you so interested in my balls? Maybe you should grow a pair of your own.” I know I shouldn’t let him rile me up. The reaction is what he’s after.

  “Oh, I got a pair, you prick.”

  “What’s your problem?”

  “No problem. Just being real with you. You’re nothing, you know that, right? A nobody. A fucking stray dog that little weird girl feeds scraps. She’s playing with you, man. Out of fucking pity.”

  “You’d know, being pitiful is kind of your thing,” I snap at him before setting off across the field at a dead sprint.

  For the next few hours, I work myself to physical exhaustion. Route running, ladder drills, releases, blocking, hot potato. I don’t stop moving for three hours except to take a quick drink of water. By the end of practice, my legs are jello and I can barely stand up.

  Through it all, my mind doesn’t stop racing with thoughts of Elizabeth. I don’t picture her naked body. I picture those chocolate eyes the moment before I ran out of there. It wasn’t pity. It was something I’ve never felt before.

  * * * *

  I roll my shoulders and take a few deep breaths as I stare at the door to Elizabeth’s apartment Tuesday night. It doesn’t stop my heart from racing. For the first time in my life I’m fucking nervous about a girl.

  Man up, Jacobs.

  I knock on her door. She seems surprised when she answers it.

  “Hi,” she mutters, staring at me quizzically. I guess she was expecting me to saunter in again.

  I don’t own her and it’s important I remember that. No more playing boyfriend. Tonight I’m going to keep things flirty and casual.

  “Hi,” I reply, waiting to be asked into the apartment. I let my eyes wander over her. She’s back in her baggy jeans, but she isn’t wearing the standard loose T-shirt. She’s in a tight tank top that’d give even a blind man the chance to admire how well-endowed she is.

  The lettering stretched across her chest reads Sorry I’m late. I didn’t want to come. That’s Elizabeth, adorable and sexy all in one. The thirteen-year-old in me wants to bury my face in her tits, motorboating until I can’t breathe. The twenty-one-year-old in me wants to make sure she comes. All. Night. Long.

  “Hi,” she says again, biting her lip with a coy smile. This girl is casually delectable.

  “You said that already,” I simper. “Can I come in? Or did you add voyeurism to our sex-abus?”

  She gives me a light gasp before grabbing my shirt and pulling me into the apartment. She closes the door, crosses her arms and glares at me. I can’t help but chuckle. She’s beautiful when she’s pissed.

  “Stop staring!” she demands.

  “Am I staring?” I ask with a wolfish grin. I haven’t taken my eyes off her tits since she opened the door, but there’s no need to admit that without teasing her first.

  “You know you are.”

  “What could I possibly be staring at?”

  “My…” She gestures to her chest, moving her hand in a big circle before re-crossing her arms.

  “Your?” I plaster a stupid expression on my face, holding back my smile for as long as I can.

  “My…chest.” She almost whispers the word.

  “Well, crossing your arms in that shirt makes it impossible for me not to stare at your…tits.” She uncrosses her arms with a scoff and storms off.

  “I think we need to work on your vocabulary tonight.” I follow her into the kitchen.

  “My vocabulary is exceptional. I scored a seven hundred and twenty on my verbal SAT,” she touts.

  “Congratulations, but that’s not the vocabulary I’m concerned about.”

  She shakes her head at me.

  “Say cock.”

  “What? Why?” she asks.

  “You need a reason?”

  She crosses her arms and purses her sexy lips. When I lower my gaze to her tits again, she drops her arms with an eye-roll. Eye-rolls shouldn’t be sexy, but damn if Elizabeth Wilde doesn’t make them hot.

  “Just say it to prove you can.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “Say it.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  She’s being a brat. So, I push harder.

  “Don’t want to or you can’t?”

  “Are we eating dinner?” she asks.

  “I already ate.” We aren’t fucking dating. She can make her own damn dinner. She pouts. Weird how we’ve already established a routine after only a week. “And don’t try to change the subject.”

  “So what if I can’t say it? It’s not a big deal.” She turns away from me, a soft blush rising on her cheeks.

  “Yes, it is. How am I supposed to teach you how to fuck if you can’t even say the word?” The light blush turns to a deep red as her whole body flushes.

  “Fine. COCK!” she shouts at the top of her lungs before slapping her hand over her mouth. We stare at each other for a minute. I don’t know who is more shocked, her or me.

  A chuckle rumbles out of my chest. “It’s a start.”

  She smiles back with tight lips. I walk over to the couch and pat the cushion next to me.

  “Sit down. We’ll start easy and work up to it, okay?” I give her a comforting smile.

  “Okay,” she tentatively agrees as she sits down across from me.

  “Repeat after me. Endowments.” I give her a devious smile and gesture to her chest.

  “Endowments.” Snark drips from her tongue and I love it.

  “Chest.”

  “Chest,” she parrots back.

  “Breasts. Globes. Boobies.” I ensure my face is stoic, as if I were giving an elocution lesson.

  “Breasts, globes and boobies.” She follows easily.

  “Good. Tits.”

  “Tits.” Her voice is confident and clear.

  Easy, tiger, we’re just getting started.

  “Vagina. Lady bits. Snatch.”

  She copies me without hesitation, although her nose crinkles at the word snatch, which is excruciatingly cute.

  “Pussy.” I keep my eyes locked on hers. She doesn’t flinch.

  “Pussy.” Her soft voice takes a sultry edge and I’m desperate to hear more dirty words from those full lips.

  “Penis. Junk. Crotch.”

  “Crotch?” She recoils from the word. “I’m never going to say crotch.”

  “You just did. Twice.” I give her a taunting grin.

  “You know what I mean, Ass.” She calls me ass like it’s my name. Like it’s a term of endearment.

  “Fine. How about cunt?”

  “Cunt,” she answers, eyes locked on mine.

  Hearing naughty words come from that pouty mouth is my undoing. I lean back and exhale, my mind racing with filthy thoughts.

  “Fuck me,” I murmur, surprised at how turned on I am without even touching her. Just the sound of her voice has me rock-hard. What is this woman doing
to me?

  “Fuck me,” she repeats my words.

  My little Goose isn’t done. The realization brings a devious smile to my lips as I meet the challenge in her eyes.

  You asked for it, sweetheart.

  “Tell me you want my cock deep inside your pussy,” I say flatly.

  She shuts her eyes, swallows hard and takes a deep breath. I’d put money on her chickening out, right until her lips twist up mischievously. Her words come out slow and tormenting, oozing raw sex. I savor each and every one.

  “I want your thick, hard cock deep inside my tight, wet pussy, fucking me until I can’t help but scream your name in ecstasy.” She leans forward and crawls toward me on the couch, inching closer with every syllable. She is the single sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Her words hypnotize me. I’m in a trance, unable to look away from those deep, dark eyes.

  Every drop of blood in my body surges south to my throbbing dick. I can’t think, I can’t move.

  “Austin,” she moans.

  She makes my name sound filthier than anything she’s said tonight. By the time she finishes, her mouth is inches from mine. Temptation rages through me. I fist my hands at my sides and hold back the animal desire to take her. Rough and hard, I’m desperate to claim her.

  “Who are you?” I ask, my voice gravelly. I’m in awe of her. Amazed. And painfully aroused.

  “Elizabeth Wilde. Nice to meet you.” She sticks out her hand, barely able to fit it in the tiny space between our hot bodies. That smart mouth breaks the last of my restraint. I can’t help but grab her hand and pull her flush against me.

  “Smartass,” I seethe before seizing her lips with mine.

  I greedily slide my hands up her tank top, pulling it up and over her head in one smooth motion. I graze the soft, exposed swell of her chest with my lips as I unhook her bra.

  “Wait.” Her voice is shaky and breathless.

  It takes all the willpower I have to pull away. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and bites her lip. My chest tightens at the sight.