Broken Compass

My pants suddenly too tight, I step back into the apartment, cursing inwardly and hoping she doesn’t notice. We’re goddamn friends. She never seemed to check me out or want anything more from me than that.

Friendzoned to death.

Tell that to my dick, though. Tell that to my body, when every muscle clenches in anticipation and desire every time she’s around.

It wasn’t so bad a year ago, when she first moved in. She’s a pretty girl, but her curves, those that drive me crazy with need right now, weren’t so full yet. In the stretch of a year, she went from girl to woman, with full tits and a heart-shaped ass. I swear, even her mouth got fuller. Softer. More inviting.

Or maybe I’m noticing her more and more, every part of her looking better with every look.

Oblivious, she wanders inside after me, her Converse squeaking on the polished wooden floor. She brings in with her a scent of summer rain and flowers, and her red curls catch the low rays of the sun slanting through the door, burning bright.

I close the door, plunging us in dimness.

“It’s so… nice in here,” she whispers, and walks by the sofa, brushing her hand over the carved back. “Feels so calm.”

Does it, now? That distracts me, lands me with a crash back to the here and now.

Because no matter how hard I try to see what she sees, I can’t. The old furniture Dad got from Grandma when she passed away is antique wood and velvet, and it looks dead and suffocating to me. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, all pulse with darkness.

“Your bag is in my room,” I say as she comes around the sofa to stand in front of me again. “Shall I go get it?”

Her cheeks redden. “I’ve never seen your room.”

The urge to lift my hand and touch her hair, her cheek, her mouth is back, overwhelming my senses. I can’t think straight, not when she’s standing so close.

“Wanna come in?” I gesture at the hallway and swallow hard.

“Sure!” Her gaze brightens, and I’m done for.

As I lead the way to my room, where I’ve never taken any girl before, I curse myself. What the hell am I doing? She’s so pretty she’s frying all my synapses.

Most dangerous girl in the whole fucking world.

“So what is he like?” she asks as she checks out my room, peering outside the window and then at an old poster of Metallica I have taped to the wall.

I quickly gather up some dirty clothes from the floor and throw them behind the bed, then sit down on the bed and pretend to be busy with my phone. “What is who like?”

“Your roommate. Duh.”

“Well, he’s really old. And ugly. And he stinks. You wouldn’t like him, I promise.”

“He’s not old.”

Putting my phone down, I frown at her. “And how would you know that?”

She comes to sit down beside me, and her scent hits me again. It’s a punch to my senses. “I kinda saw him. When he arrived, last night.”

“You just happened to see him?”

“I was sitting on the stairs and could see your door. So yeah.”

“What else did you see?”

“You.” She tucks her full lower lip between her teeth and her lashes lower. They’re golden and long and fuck. “I saw you.”

“Me.” The thought of her looking at my apartment, at me, sizzles through my system. I like it. Way too much.

Look away, Nate.