"Yeah." The freezer door opens. Ice clinks in a glass. "You want something to drink?"
"Are you offering whatever you're having?"
He pauses. He's blocked by the kitchen wall. I can't see his face. But I can picture it, that way his eyes get sharper when he's thinking.
"You like whiskey all of a sudden?" His voice is even. Like this whole date thing means nothing.
"Sure." I need to loosen the knot in my gut. This is the wrong way to go about it. Alcohol is a depressant. It's for special occasions only. "You never let me drink."
"I don't?"
"Yeah. Only on my birthday."
"A drink doesn't have to mean booze."
"I'll have whatever you're having."
"Hmm."
I set my Kindle next to my phone. I smooth my sleep shorts. Adjust my tank top. This is a flattering outfit, as far as pajamas go. Plenty of cleavage. Lots of leg.
I have a nice figure. I got it from Mom. Between all the exercise I force myself to do and biking to and from work and school, I stay in pretty good shape. Not Brendon good. But good.
He moves into the dining room—well, this is all one big room, but he's in the dining area—and sets two glasses on the table.
He takes a seat and motions to the other glass.
"What was her name?" I push off the couch and move toward him. Slowly. Casually. Like wondering about this isn't tearing me apart.
"Why?"
"Making conversation." I pick up my drink and take a sip. My lips curl into a half smile. "This is apple juice."
"Is it?"
"Tease."
He shrugs.
"Did you like her?"
"She was nice."
"You're just like Em."
He arches a brow as he brings his drink to his lips. He tries to hold a poker face, but he doesn't quite manage it. His eyelids press together. A soft groan falls off his lips.
The man loves his whiskey.
But that's not where my head is going.
"Whenever she says a guy is nice, that's it. She's never seeing him again," I say.
"I liked her."
"But you didn't..." I clear my throat. But that doesn't get a reaction. "You're home early. Considering."
"Only takes half an hour to fuck someone properly."
"Oh." I stare back into his eyes. There's something missing. A satisfaction. He didn't sleep with her. I think.
"You should go to bed. It's late."
"I work later than this all the time."
"Still. School starts soon. You need to get into a routine." He takes another sip then sets his glass down on the table. "Your parents left another message. They want to hear from you."
"I know." I sip my apple juice. It's better than whiskey, but this much sugar this late is a bad idea. "I'm still pissed at them."
"You consider telling them that?"
Sort of. Telling people how I feel isn't my strong suit. "Did you sleep with her."
"That's not your—"
"I thought we agreed friends talk about sex."
His eyes trace my body. It's quick. Almost imperceptible. "What have you been doing all night?"
"Reading."
He nods sounds like you.
"That book you mentioned."
"And it's helping with your research?" He draws out the last word, like we both know this isn't for research.
"Yeah. But it's not enough. Reading about the theoretical is one thing, but I want to know what it's really like. How it feels. So I can capture it properly."
"What exactly are you writing?"
"It's um..." I'm not writing anything. That's all bullshit. I go through my favorite character pairings, trying to find one that makes sense. There's no way Peeta is tying up Katniss. Or Katniss and Finnick. Or Finnick and Annie. Nobody in The Hunger Games is getting tied up. But Draco and Harry—I could see that. "It's a Harry Potter fan fiction."
He arches a brow. "Harry doesn't have it in him."
"Yeah. He's not. Draco is."
Brendon chuckles. He's disarmed. He's not thinking about how I'm pushing him to illustrate his sexual preferences. He's endeared by me writing dirty male/male fan fiction. "I didn't realize—"
"I wrote about guys going at it?"
He nods.
"It's a favorite pairing. They have a certain chemistry."
"Yeah." He laughs.
"Yeah. And I... I don't really understand the psychology of it. Not from reading. It's not enough." I swallow hard. I can't believe these words are falling off my lips. Him going on that date is making me reckless. "You... you have experience with that."
"You want me to show you what it's like to be ordered around?"
"Not, you know... not sex. But maybe you could walk me through it."
He shoots me a really look.
"Or I could ask Dean."
There. His jaw cricks. He's armed again. But he's armed with exactly the right tool. He hates the idea of Dean ordering me around. Of Dean touching me.
"If you're not interested. Or busy. I'm sure Dean would help."
"You have a boss at work. It's the same thing."
I shake my head. "But that's not sexual."
"It doesn't have to be." He stares back at me. "Put your glass on the table."
I stare back. "Huh?"
"You want to see what it's like, listen and do exactly what I say."
I nod.
His voice drops to a tone I've never heard before. One that demands all my attention. "Put your glass on the table."
I do.
"Push it aside."
I do.
"Now sit on the table." He pats the spot at the edge of the table. It's as far away from him as it could be. "And wait for my next command."
My lips press together. This is weird. But I like everything about it.
I move to the table. Take a seat. Press my legs together.
His eyes bore into mine. He waits. And waits. And waits.
My skin starts buzzing. I'm not sure why, but there's something thrilling about waiting for him.
When he speaks, his voice is firm, but not demanding. "You get the idea?"
"I'm starting to."
"What else are you curious about?"
"Everything."
His pupils dilate. Something sparks in his expression. This desire deep inside him. It's only there for a second, then he's back to a poker face.
"Keep reading. You'll get it." He picks up his glass and takes the last sip. "You thinking about doing this with someone, Kay?"
"Sort of."
"Make sure it's someone you can trust." He moves into the kitchen and leaves his empty glass in the sink. "You can get pretty deep into it. None of it's wrong, but some of it's dangerous." His brow furrows. It's like he's fighting himself. "If you're not sure about anything, ask me. I'm not an expert. But I'll figure shit out for you."
I nod. "I trust them."