Page 8 of Daring Enzo

After a while of watching, I admitted to myself I had lost my chance with her. She was stuck with her friends, and I would not see her for the rest of the night. I’d given up and come up to my room. It made no sense she’d just shown up in my bathroom of all places.

Seeing her in front of me, like I had conjured her up with my thoughts, left me feeling shocked. But I was even more shocked when her hands remained at her sides, and her expression remained blank. She hadn’t seemed to care in the slightest that we’d seen each other naked.

I look down at the towel covering me and back at her plump ass. Still naked. There’s no way she can’t feel me looking at her, but there’s no urgency in her movements. She just stands there, looking like she wishes she was anywhere else, but not enough to have her scrambling for her clothes and running out the door.

I look from her to the clothes on the floor. She doesn’t even seem to seduce me. She’s acting like she’s completely clothed.

Is she drunk?

I look closely at her, but she doesn’t appear drunk. She seems very sober. I know through the night, as her friends drank, she maintained a single glass through their fourth or fifth one. There was no way she was drunk.

“I don’t understand you,” I say before I can stop myself.

“What?” she asks, sounding bored.

“You’re naked.”

She looks down at herself before looking back up at me. “Yeah, I see. So?”

I’m more confused now. “You’re not even-”

I stop myself; and this time when I study her, I’m more intrigued by her face than her body. I want to read her expression and understand the thoughts going through her head. It’s scary how unaffected she seems.

It’s just like I said. She is trouble.

“Usually, the response when women find themselves naked in front of a man by accident is, ‘Oh my God! Oh my God!’ You know?” I jump lightly, flailing my arms and bouncing from one foot to another as I mimic the girly, high-pitched voice. “Then you’re supposed to snatch anything close by to cover yourself while I try to do the gentlemanly thing by turning away and making sure not to look.”

I pause when she doesn’t say anything. Like she doesn’t get my point. “You’re doing the exact opposite.”

Hmm… strange. Very strange indeed.

After what seems like forever, she shrugs and goes back to dial numbers on her phone. “I like my body and have nothing to be ashamed of or to hide. So, I don’t care if you want to look. I don’t care if you’ve seen either,” she stammers with a straight face.

I’m dumbfounded by her logic. I’ve never met anyone like her. She messes with my head in a way no one else has. I’ve yet to decide whether it is a good thing or not.

“But you’ve seen me naked as well. Didn’t it bother you?” I ask her.

“Why would it? It’s just nakedness.” She shrugs.

“Huh?” In all the times I imagined her naked since I had met her, which was quite a lot, there was no time when I imagined us having a conversation like this one. There was no sexual energy to it at all. It made my skin prickle with unrest.

Of course, she would take the sexy out of nakedness.

I look over her body again, the semi in my towel stiffening some more.

Well... more like trying to take it out.

“Nakedness only matters when you’re attracted to the person and have an intention of doing something sexual with that person. Other than that, it’s just a body.” She looks me up and down. I puff up even though I don’t intend to.

Why the hell am I posturing for her gaze?

I try to relax my body, but her eyes keep my chest puffed up, as it commands it.

She looks at me with bored eyes and smiles as she finishes, “And you have a pretty ordinary body.”

“What?” my voice comes out louder than I intend for it to be. My ego’s been kicked in the nuts, and she is not fazed still.

“I’ve seen loads of men naked. You’re not special,” she avows.

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