Chapter 32: : Chapter 32

the back of my neck and my eyes slowly open. My alarm clock reads five in the morning, we have school in a little over an hour.

I twist in my sheets, looking to Nico who is sound asleep, lying flat on his back, one hand under his pillow, the other resting low on his stomach.

I gently turn all the way, lifting the covers slightly to get a better look at him.

His tan skin glows against my ivory sheets, and even when at ease as he is right now, his muscles are sculpted and curved to my kind of perfection.

I look to his face and I fight the urge to lean over and meet his lips.

His commanding, control seeking, perfect lips.

I replay moments from last night in my head and my core warms.

He was so in tune with what I liked, knew exactly how to set my body off and I tried to give him just as much back.

When I had sex before, I felt clueless and unsure, self-conscious.

Last night, all I felt was Nico.

His want and his need, his desire to please and the greed in his movements. Every time his hands touched me it was purposeful. Every kiss was more heated than the last and every moan he earned of mine only seemed to make him work harder for the next one.

Last night was completely intoxicating.

Nico is intoxicating.

I quietly climb from the bed, snag my robe from the hook near my door, and move to use the restroom in the hall so I don’t wake him.

The last thing I expected yesterday was everything I had hoped for – Nico to show up and erase the memory that threatened to ruin us.

He did, and then some.

I know nothing is forgotten, but to have him here, knowing we can move past this is more than enough.

After washing my hands, I splash some water on my face, gently patting it dry with a hand towel and sliding it across my neck.

My robe falls open slightly and I spot a small hickey just over my breast.

I lean closer to the mirror, tracing it with my fingers and then look into my own eyes.

No guilt. No shame.

I step back, push the door open, and my eyes fall to my discarded jeans, then slide down the hall where Nico’s boxers lie.

A small smile tugs at my lips and I follow the trail, laughing at his football pants on the stairs, and my shirt by the entrance rug, his cleats a few feet from there.

I pull the corner of my bottom lip between my teeth and reach into the fridge for a bottle of water.

I unscrew the lid, taking a drink as I close the door.

I scream and jump back, gasping in the next second as the cold-water spills onto my chest.

My hand flies to my robe and I pull it closed tighter.

“Mom.” My wide eyes snap from her to me and back. “What the hell!”

My mother narrows her eyes, tilting her head slightly. “What the hell?” she repeats.

“I only mean thanks for creeping up on me, you scared me.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so lost in thought, you’d have noticed I was standing in the living room as you passed by.” She blinks.

She was?

“You were?”

She crosses her arms. “Is this what you do when I’m gone? Shack up with the neighbor boy?”

“You know his name.”

“Demi.”

I put the lid on my water, setting it down I then turn around, leaning against the countertop. I lift my hand. “It’s not like you’d know if I was telling the truth or not, but no,” I say and the corner of her eyes pinch the slightest bit. “Last night was our… was his first time staying over.”

Her gaze tightens, but her lips smooth out, so I can tell she appreciates the honesty.

“Protection?” she asks.

I nod even though, no, we didn’t pause for that like we should have. I am on birth control, but we should have gone for double protection.

My mom looks away a moment, pretending to pick lint from her blazer before looking back to me.

“I like him.”

“I’d hope so,” she comes back instantly, judgment burning in her stare, but concern is also evident.

My shoulders fall and I step toward her.

“Mom…” I pause. “I’m serious,” I whisper. “I like him.”

It takes her a few seconds, but her features smooth and she glances away. “Is he… are the two of you…”

“Dating?” I help her out.

She gives a stiff nod, so I nod back.

“You know, Trent is—”

“Mom.” I stop her, moving closer. “Trent is Nico’s best friend, my friend’s boyfriend, and even if he wasn’t either of those things, he would still only be a friend to me. I don’t and I won’t want him. That’s never going to change.”

“Friends…” she tests the word, her lips pinching.

I shrug. “That’s all.”

After a moment, my mom surprises me when she clears her throat and nods, a fitted smile on her face.

She reaches out, gently touching my cheek, a bit of dejection plaited in her words, “Don’t be late for school, Demi.”

She steps back, grabs her purse and her keys, and walks out the garage door, locking it behind her.

It’s odd, for a mother to do nothing else, but mine has no clue what to do, and leaving is easier for her than facing the fact that she’s oblivious to how to parent a teenage girl. I can’t fault her for it, but sometimes I almost wish she’d try.

I take a deep breath, my eyes stuck on the way she exited before I pick up my water and head back for my room, but as soon as I step around the corner, I find Nico standing there, leaning against the wall, his boxers on and a throw blanket draped over his shoulders.

“Hi.” I grin.

“Hi.”

“How long you been standing here?”

“Since you stepped foot in the kitchen.” He eyes me, a gentleness I haven’t seen in his before. “Thought you were sneaking out of your own house on me.”

A small laugh escapes.

“She left?”

I nod.

His eyes blaze. “Come here.”

I do.

He lifts his arm, running his hand along my neck before leaning in to kiss me lightly, the blanket falling to our feet as he grabs my hand.

He pulls back, nodding his head so I follow him up the stairs and into my in-house studio room.

There’s a few small stools in the corner, a sound system in the other and that’s it.

He walks over to the stereo, glancing back at me as he turns it on. “What’s in here?”

I shrug, not remembering since I prefer to practice outside. I lean against the frame, eating up every inch of his body standing in nothing but boxers for only me to see and enjoy.

After a moment, The Weeknd’s “Earned It” comes through the speakers and he moves to one of the stools, dropping onto it as his head falls against the wall.

“You said I couldn’t handle it,” he rasps, a slow smirk forming on his lips. “Prove it.”

“Prove what?”

He lifts his chin, calling me to him and I don’t hesitate.

I stop right between his legs.

Nico scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, his hands coming up and sliding under my robe at my shoulder. He slips his hands around and down my arms, taking the soft, fleece material with him, his hands staying on my skin until I’m left standing how he wants me.

Completely bare for only him.

“Dance for me, baby,” he whispers, his fist gliding across his hard-on.

My eyes are forced to follow.

I give him what he wants, and Nico gives even more in return.