Palm Print

Chapter 8

The shades blocked the morning light. I stumbled to the window and pulled the shades apart, basking in the morning sun. It felt good to be off today. I turned towards the bathroom, hearing the shower through the door.

I was momentarily confused but realized he was in the shower. My eyes twitched, my body tensed, and my fists clenched. I lay down to search for a new audiobook, but my phone was dead.

I pondered tossing my phone out the window, but reason and money slapped me in the face. Grabbing a book from my shelf without looking, I sat on my bed and put my AirPods in.

"I'm gonna ignore him." I snarled.

I smiled, realizing I was reading "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone." Ethan and I had debated for hours about which book was the best. He argued for this book, and I argued for "Goblet of Fire." We even had our English class and teacher join the debate.

"Ethan," I whispered.

The class was split, and Mr. Brunson took no sides. Instead, our assignment was to read the series, and we debated the books for two months. That was probably the most engaged I'd ever been in any class.

I turned the page while biting my thumb. I was going to do that as a teacher. I wanted to make learning enjoyable for my students. I wrote the idea down on scrap paper and then continued reading.

The Dursleys were so cruel. Their treatment was unforgivable. Ethan exited my bathroom with a towel wrapped around him. His brown hair and tan mocha skin were damp.

"Good morning," he greeted.

I continued reading my book. Ethan walked to my dresser, grabbing clothes out.

"Do you want to watch the movies tonight?" he asked. "I haven't seen them in a while."

The towel dropped, and I tried my hardest not to look at him. I wanted to grab his butt so badly, but I had to remain diligent. He was going to face my wrath.

He turned around, struggling to get his shirt over his head. His body was lean, and it took all my will not to look. I took a few shallow breaths. My chest tightened, my nostrils burned, and my jaw felt numb.

"Cover up. I know you're not struggling!" I shouted in my head.

With all my might, I tried to resist, but I couldn't take it anymore and surveyed his body. Ethan had been working out lately, and his abs began to show. I wanted to caress and kiss them. However, my eyes drifted to my true desire. I stared at his groin.

It was soft, and it was pissing me off. How was he relaxed right now? He still struggled to get his shirt on. There was no way in hell it should take that long. He swayed a little, causing it to move, and I whimpered, wanting him.

Feeling flushed, I exited my room.

"He was doing that on purpose. It's not that hard to put on a shirt," I whispered, growling.

The scent of pancakes, sausage, and syrup tickled my nose. I began salivating and paced to the kitchen. People laughed, and I heard the frying of bacon.

"Taylor!" Kendra shouted as I entered the kitchen. I ran to her, and we embraced.

"Kendra!" I shouted. "Welcome home!"

"Would you put these plates on the table, Tristan?" my mother asked, handing him the plates. "Brandy, would you put the orange juice on the table?"

They nodded and did as my mother asked. My mother glared at me and Kendra.

"What?" I asked.

"Who are you saying 'what' to?" my mother snapped. I gulped as she pointed at the food. "Put the food on the table, or you both aren't eating."