𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 || 𝙰𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗 𝙱𝚞𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚛

14 - Hot or Cold? *

𝚂𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚗

𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐?

𝙸 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚞𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚎𝚜, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 '𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐'

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚔, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝘚𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘚𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯: 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘐𝘯 𝘏𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 – 𝘏𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘦𝘺

AUSTIN

We didn't talk about truth or dare or the dressing room. But they played in my head on a constant fucking loop.

I wanted nothing more than to use my tongue on her again.

It was three or four days after Thanksgiving and still no word from Nox. At this point Elsie was just accepting that they had broken up. Falling apart at the seams but trying so hard to hide it from me. But I knew her better than that. The depression just hadn't stepped in just yet. She was in that post breakup phase - confident, risky, carefree. The classic 'fuck him' phase.

I didn't know if it was Nox or something else that kept her from fully coming to me about it. Maybe she was embarrassed. I know I would be.

One thing I did know was that a sad Elsie came with a lot of alcohol. Which proved correct as we drank almost every night this week. With everything that happened between us recently, I was hesitant to get drunk with her again. Not to mention my little pharmaceutical helpers didn't always mix so well with alcohol.

But none the less, we did what we did best — drink.

Preparing for my new role took a backseat because if I paid attention to it- it'd make it real. And I wasn't sure I could handle that just yet.

I just wanted to focus on this time with Elsie, who knew when she'd inevitably leave. She always goes back, like a fucking boomerang. But I wanted her here, I needed her here. Even though our interactions weren't the most relaxing lately, she was the only constant. My only tether to sanity.

Trendy pop music pounded through speakers and Elsie was dancing around the living room. She was about 6 shots of tequila deep and I was about 3, plus a tiny bar-shaped anxiety aid.

My body battled between wanting to get up and dance with her or melting into the couch. I was buzzing and numb simultaneously.

I paid no mind to her horrible, sloppy dancing as my focus was on the hem of my oversized shirt hanging over her bare thighs. As much as I wanted to see her in that black dress from shopping, this was almost better.

I was too crossfaded to worry of how my eyes tracked her every move. She was drunk, she wasn't going to remember anyway.

The close call clause.

Brunette curls bounced in time with her movements. The charcoal shirt rising and falling, lifting just enough to expose her upper thighs. The sight was enough mesmerize me, each ebb of the shirt spun more thoughts in my crooked brain. I shouldn't be thinking of my hands between her thighs, or prying them open to devour her - but here we are. Those thoughts couldn't be in brain and they definitely shouldn't be in my pants. I'm supposed to be her rock during whatever bullshit Nox was putting her through - not looking at her like she was some dessert platter to taste test from.