Page 13 of Plaything

I glanced at the papers in his hands. “Do you always wake up so early on Saturdays?” I questioned.

He tilted his head in thought. “Most of the time. A sleep-in day is necessary, of course.” He leaned back on the sofa. “What about you, Odette? What do your Saturdays look like?” He inquired.

I wasn’t used to people taking an interest in me. Unless it was some false media because I was Charles Whitlock’s daughter. But this was different; he actually wanted to know this.

I was easily flattered, I guess.

I shifted, sitting cross-cross on the couch. “Well, I usually do homework. If I have volleyball practice, I’ll go to that,” I answered. Was that all I did? My shoulders fell, realizing my weekends were pathetic. I didn’t have time to focus on anything else but school. Learning and retaining information didn’t come easily for me. I had to study for hours just to understand one subject. Sometimes, the fear of failure was the only motivation I had.

I raised my eyebrows. “But today, I’m running to the store. Unless I wanted hypothermia, I would need heated everything,” I joked, moving to stand.

“I’d like to go with you if that’s alright,” he said smoothly. When I turned to look at him, he added, “There are a few things I need as well,” with a smile.

“Okay,” I agreed.

As I prepared for the day, I pondered a few things.

Should we be in the same car? Should I be going anywhere with any of my professors publicly? It seemed inappropriate, like something a student shouldn’t typically do.

I didn’t think the same rules apply now, though. I was living here with them, after all. We would be in close quarters most of the time. Why should it be any different if we need to get groceries? If we carpool, we save gas.

Really, I was thinking about the environment. So it was appropriate and reduced the pollution one car will exhaust.

Yes, very eco-friendly and not at all inappropriate.

I dressed in dark pants and a black long-sleeved shirt, my hair in a heavy ponytail, still long enough to touch the bottom of my back where my shirt rode up. I never bothered with makeup; I didn’t know how to apply it properly. Occasionally, I’d wear mascara only if I had to look more presentable. I wasn’t very good at girly things, though I liked how bright colors and cute makeup looked. I typically played it safe with neutrals and dark tones.

Niko was outside the bathroom, in the hallway, when I exited my room. He had a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, shirtless, and a towel around his waist.

My blush heated the air around me, and I felt hot. This was undoubtedly not eco-friendly in any way. I had no excuse this time, but I found myself looking anyway.

Water droplets covered his toned chest and torso, practically calling my name to touch them. I should have taken Wyatt’s offer for coffee. Now, I find myself thirsty; images of myself licking the droplets off of him plagued my mind.

He turned to me and waved. “Mornin’!” He said despite the toothbrush in his mouth.

Collecting myself, I met his eyes. “Hi, hey, good morning,” I rambled, clearly not prepared to speak. Maybe I should’ve decided on a greeting before opening my mouth.

Maybe the only thing that was polluted was my brain; metaphorically, I was the only thing bad for the environment.

Of course, in my metaphor, the environment was this house. Lust was the pollution.

He chuckled. “Where are you off to?” He questioned, eyeing my outfit. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but I noticed his gaze lingering on my hips.

Not stopping, I passed by him towards the stairs. If I stopped, I’d probably make even more of a fool of myself than I already had. His lack of attire was making me giddy. “Wyatt and I are going to the store,” I responded. “Need anything?” I added a habit I’d gotten after living with a roommate.

He gave me a half smile, difficult with the plastic between his full lips. He walked back into the bathroom, his eyes locked on mine until he disappeared from sight. “No thanks, Cariño.”

[Sweetheart.]

That Cariño hit me in the stomach like a freight train. He meant nothing by it; I knew that. It was just a term of endearment. So why did I melt when he said it?

These sudden, strange feelings were very new to me. Obviously, I’d thought boys were attractive before, but not like this.

Whenever I was in the same room with one of them, I could feel the tension. I was nervous when they were nearby. Talking to them made me act like a fool. I was a complete mess and hadn’t been at the manor for a full day.

Despite my polluted thoughts, I knew I couldn’t express my feelings. First, because nothing but horrible awkwardness would come from it. Second, because I knew they wouldn’t feel the same. I was a student. A burden.

“Ready to go?” Wyatt asked, opening the front door for me.

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