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IT’S FRIDAY. THE CRESCENT is busy. And I just had to run upstairs and jack off on my break.
Annabelle is killing me. She’s not even trying.
Every now and then, for the show, I stop at her table and say something low in her ear or touch her in a completely above-board way. The small gestures are making me hornier than I’ve ever been and I can’t begin to say why.
She’s tucked into a booth reading something I’m pretty sure is written in Ye Olde English, and I don’t think she even knows I’m here except for when I stop at her table. For some reason, this makes me want to do something to make her notice me. I want her eyes on me. I want her to be aware of me at all times. It’s only fair.
I’m aware of her at all times.
I can’t believe she’s a virgin. I can’t believe she wants me to pop her cherry. I can’t believe I can think of nothing else. I’m desperate, a new feeling for me, and not a welcome one. I mean fuck. How did this girl wrap me around her little finger so fast? Is it because she’s ignoring me? Is she playing hard to get, and I’m just the dumb oaf falling for it?
No. It was all me last night dragging her into this pretend relationship. It was me that suggested we keep playing it out. But maybe that’s been her plan all along? To stay in my peripheral vision every night and then pretend she doesn’t even know I exist?
I look at her again. Nope. She’s really deep in that book. This isn’t some kind of long-game con. She really has no need for me other than the details of our arrangement. She’s not even trying really.
I have too many orders coming at me fast, but I still find myself sliding into the booth next to her. I press a kiss to her temple. “I think you need to act like you like me more, gorgeous. It seems like it’s all me coming over here, and you are ignoring me. If we want people to believe you’re my girlfriend, you should try getting my attention more.”
She scrunches her forehead. “But you’re working. You’re busy. Wouldn’t a good girlfriend not distract you so you can work?”
Well, yes. But that’s not what I want, for some reason.
She sets her book down, and it sort of thunks on the table because of its size. She picks up my arm and puts it around her so she can scooch in real close. “Like this?”
She’s been drinking Shirley Temples all night, so she even smells like cherries. This was a bad idea. I want to lay her on the table and feast on every inch of her sweet-smelling skin. What is happening to me?
“Well, this is better, yeah.”
Thank fuck I’m wearing an apron around my waist.
“Do you think I should kiss you?”
Fuck, yeah. “If you want to.”
She leans up and has a false start when I go left and she goes left. Then she bumps my nose on the second shot. We must look like we’ve never kissed before. Her third attempt lands right where I want her. Her soft lips part and time freezes. I love kissing this girl. She looks so sweet and innocent, but her mouth is temptation and pure sex. I have a feeling that there are two very different Annabelles living inside this one person, and I like them both. I want them both.
I groan and pull her closer. All my responsibilities fade as I get lost in her mouth. In her kiss. I don’t want to come back from this. I want to stay here forever.
Forever? Fuck me.
I pull back. She’s got a dreamy expression in her eyes, and if it wasn’t so busy, I’d drag her upstairs and see if she gets dreamier after she’s come hard and often.
If she likes kissing so much, I wonder what has kept her from having a real boyfriend. What was she talking about when she said she’s bad at intimacy? What was it she said to me? “Why don’t you want me to fall in love with you?”
She blinks, still dreamy-eyed. “Huh?”
“Last night, you told me you wanted me to be your first but that I couldn’t fall in love with you. Why? Am I that bad?”
Those cornflower blue eyes widen in panic. “No. It has nothing to do with you. I mean other than the obvious. I was joking, anyway. Like you would ever fall in love with someone like me.”
“Someone like you? What do you mean?”
“Are you fishing for compliments now, Anker? Someone like you, as in, someone who could have any woman he wants is not going to fall for a nerdy, chubby girl—”
I stop her from saying anything else stupid by kissing her roughly. Part of me is just pissed that she thinks that way about herself. Like I’m somehow better than her or some shit. When she’s quieted, I tell her, “Smart is sexy. There is nothing I like more than a woman who is intelligent. You’re not nerdy, you just have different priorities than a lot of people, and that is more than okay. It’s hot.”
“It is?”
“Yeah. And don’t say chubby like it’s a bad thing, either. I like soft curves. I’m a big man, and I’m not attracted to women who look like they might break.”
She looks down at the table. “You’re being very sweet, but it’s okay. I’m not deluding myself about my weight. I’ve always understood that I just don’t have the body type that turns guys on. So you don’t have to reach for compliments to make me feel better. I’m fine.”
I need to get back to work. But I can’t leave her until she understands. I pull her hand into my lap under my apron and let her get a feel of my raging hard-on. “Does that feel like a guy who’s not turned-on? Babe, I’ll never lie to you. I think your body is sexy. And I think you being smart makes it even hotter.”
Her breathing is getting shallow. Good.
I kiss her temple once more. “I have to get back to work, but every time you see me carrying a tray in front of my dick, you’ll know it’s because I was thinking of you and have to hide my erection.”
The first chance I get, I’m going to need to go back upstairs and rub another one out. But Annabelle sits in the booth for a long time and doesn’t pick up her book.
She’s watching me.
Thank fuck, I think she’s finally noticing me.