Beside

11 - haunt

"Jellybean. I'm serious."

"..."

"Stop ignoring me."

"..."

"I'm sorry, okay? I won't hold Sarah's hand again. Happy?"

"...Yes."

ᖴO᙭

I squeeze harder, teeth gritted, as scalding water beats down on my back. It doesn't do a damn thing to wash away the thoughts crawling under my skin.

One palm presses against the slick tile, the other is wrapped around my cock as if I can jerk her out of my mind—her skin, her fucking mouth, the way she looks at me, all doe-eyed and sweet. She's got no idea. I'm cursed.

She shouldn't be stuck in my head. But I can't get her out. Can't stop replaying that night—her flushed skin, the warmth between her thighs, the way she moaned when I touched her. Every second since. The kisses. The sounds.

I pant, water dripping into my mouth, chest heaving. I must be fifteen again. Christ.

My hand moves faster, head bowed. I'm so fucked in the head for this. I don't even like her. She's just some shy, doe-eyed girl playing house in my apartment.

I promised to show her around campus, keep us on track. Something to focus on, something concrete to keep me from losing control. But she was so close, so warm, her body, soft and pliable. The way her nails dug into my skin.

My hand moves faster, rougher, punishing myself for how badly I want to bury myself into the heat between her thighs—

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I groan low in my throat, shuddering, muscles seizing. It's violent—and then guilt hits just as hard.

I stay like that, bent over, breath ragged, pressing my forehead to the wall, water dripping off my chin. Pathetic. I'm fucking pathetic. It's not enough.

I lift my hand, glaring at it like it's the thing to blame.

ｃｈｒｉｓ

Sunlight filters through the trees like soft, golden bands. We're walking through a painting. "How do I say, Charlie, behave, in Spanish?"

"Charlie, pórtate bien," I reply, rolling the words off my tongue.

Cam looks at Charlie, who's now pulling toward another patch of wildflowers on someone's front lawn. "Charlie, pórtate bien!"

He gives her side eye.

"He's not impressed with my bilingual skills," Cam mutters.

"Don't worry, you'll get there. He just needs more practice."

Charlie tugs at his harness, growling at dandelions.

Cam groans, half-bashful. "He's not exactly perfect. Charlie! Stop!"

There's a glowing thread between Cam and Charlie, floating in the air. I blink a few times, but the thread doesn't go away. It pulses gently.

"So, you're finally settled in, right?"

"I'd say so." I brush my fingers through the short ends of my hair. "It's a beautiful place. Everyone's really... nice. Thank you for accepting my application. I wouldn't—"

"We're nice?! Nice is boring! Oh god, are we boring?"

I shake my head quickly. "No, definitely not boring." I bite the inside of my cheek. Boring would be good, actually. Really good.