I Don't Smile

Chapter 6 - What is it with Doors?

"You follow directions well. You and I are going to have lots of fun."

I was still against the door, frozen under Nathaniel's gaze. He wasn't looking me in the eye anymore though. No, now he was raking his eyes up and down my body. Every part of me was itching to squirm out of his sight and run the other direction. Nathaniel's gaze really was a force to be reckoned with. It was pointed, intense, and made something hot turn over in my core. It was such an encompassing feeling, it was almost uncomfortable.

It certainly didn't help that Nathaniel looks the way he does. His signature silver necklace and bracelet chain combo were nowhere to be seen. He was wearing a baggy pair of black, mesh shorts that stopped just above his knees and a loose dark green t-shirt with a pocket in the front. It was strange seeing him out of his usual - a tight v-neck and jeans. Don't confuse strange with bad though, he looked absolutely sinful, either way. Nathaniel has his hands braced on a counter, in front of a sink and mirror, and from the way he was bent, that shirt rose ever so slightly and revealed a sliver of skin above the waistband of his shorts. That little amount of tan skin shouldn't make my heart race, but oh, how it does. Something about this loose look he had on was wonderful - he seemed so casual and unbothered and I don't know why, but it was doing just as much to my stomach as his eyes were.

With that being said, I'm not quite sure what to make of his comment. I follow directions? What had he told me to do? Outside of his demands to sit with him (which I usually met with a little resistance, albeit futile), I can't recall him telling me anything other than to be here. That's hardly worthy of praise.

"W-What do you mean?" I stammer out. Jeez, Jas, be more of a loser, why don't you? I'm disappointed, but not surprised at the nervousness in my voice. I wanted to be as indifferent as he seems to be, but that was wishful thinking, obviously.

"I told you to wear something hot, and you did. Good girl," he says, and I watch as he pushes off of the counter and stands at his full height. Then, he's making his way towards me ever so slowly. "You know, I'm a little shocked you came. I figured you'd be scared to."

He was in front of me now. Maybe five feet away, but close enough that I was starting to have to crane my neck to see his face. At this angle, I can really tell how much taller, bigger he is than me. And wow, was it intimidating. His broad shoulders, strong neck, sharp jaw, that pouty bottom lip all led to those eyes. They had that dangerous glint in them again. He was peering down at me and while I know I am the only person in the room, the way he is looking at me is making me feel like there isn't anything else in the universe other than him and I in this moment.

I can't let him know that though. I can't give away how he makes me feel. Not yet. Because while I have admitted to myself that I want him - as terrible of an idea as it is, even though wanting him is definitely not going to be good for me, I've never been particularly skilled at lying to myself  - that doesn't mean he should know that. Because he's still a jerk. And I will deny my feelings to him until I'm blue in the face if he keeps being a jerk.

"I'm not scared of you, Nathaniel," and I'm proud of myself for keeping my voice steady. I sound like I mean what I've said. Newsflash, I don't.

Nathaniel Lincoln terrifies me.

And he knows it. I can tell by the way he raises an eyebrow at my statement. He doesn't believe a single word I just said.

And to call me on my bluff, Nathaniel crowds into my space. He pushes forward until my back is flush against the door, his giant hands are on either side of my head, and he's leaning down and in my face and I can smell the mint of his breath and with every rise of his chest, his shirt is tickling the fabric of the lace on my corset.