Page 41 of The Summer Intern

“He didn't fuck me until the morning, when I was sober,” I interrupted, just in case Oliver was thinking the worst of Matt."Just so you don't think there was anything shady there."

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from Matt.He’s not the type to take advantage.”

"Look, the sex was just—" I paused, searching for the right word, but all I could think about was how Matt's hands had felt spanning my waist, how his lips had traced patterns down my spine, how he'd whispered my name like a prayer when he came, deep inside me.How I shivered thinking about the fact that his cum was still in me, marking me as his."It was just really good sex," I finished lamely.

Oliver raised an eyebrow."Just good?"

"Not that I've had that much to compare it to, but excellent."Mind-blowing.Earth-shattering.Life changing.

Oliver's expression softened."Case, you know it's okay to like him, right?Even if he is your boss.Even if he is older than you."

"Not that much older, it's totally an acceptable age gap," I said automatically, then cursed inwardly."I mean, it would be, if I liked him.Which I don't."

"Right," Oliver said, unconvinced."And that's why you keep touching your neck where he gave you a hickey."

Shit, there was a hickey?My hand, which had indeed crept back up to my neck, dropped to my lap."It doesn't mean anything," I insisted.

"Anyway," I said, straightening my shoulders, "I need to get changed.I really am going to be late, and unlike some people, I actually care about being punctual for work."

"Sure," Oliver said, returning to his notes."It has nothing to do with wanting to see a certain Camp Director again."

I flipped him off as I headed to the tiny, shared closet that sat in the little alcove by the bathroom.My clothes hung in a neat line, a rainbow of faded t-shirts, jeans, and shorts that screamed "broke college student" rather than "competent music teacher."I needed something that said I was a professional who had not just been thoroughly fucked by the boss.I settled for a crisp, newish black t-shirt and a pair of shorts that hit just above the knee.Not my usual bright colors, but maybe today, it’d be better to not draw attention.

"There's laundry in the basket if you need it," Oliver called, not looking up from his notebook."I did a load yesterday at the camp laundry room."

I grunted in acknowledgment, grabbing my clothes and a clean pair of tiny rainbow briefs, not because Matt loved me in briefs, but because they were comfy, and ducked into our tiny bathroom to change, blushing as I remembered the way Matt had cleaned me up in the shower, his mouth tracing down my throat as he whispered gruffly about how good it had been.

I peeled off my t-shirt and caught sight of myself in the mirror.I looked...different.My hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction despite my earlier attempts to tame it with my fingers.My eyes were bright, almost feverish, and there was a flush to my cheeks that had nothing to do with the summer heat.And there, spanning the junction between my neck and shoulder, was the purplish mark of Matt's mouth.

I touched it gently, remembering the moment it happened.

Shaking the strange feeling off, I quickly stripped off the rest of my clothes, wincing as I bent to remove my shorts.Every movement was a reminder of what we'd done, of how thoroughly Matt had taken me apart and put me back together.I dressed in the clean clothes as quickly as possible, not wanting to think too hard about any of it.When I emerged from the bathroom, Oliver looked up, studying me with that analytical gaze of his.

"You're full of shit."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Oliver said, adjusting his glasses, "that people who are genuinely not interested in someone don't usually have to announce it repeatedly.They just...aren't interested.No declarations needed."

Heat crept up my neck."I'm just making sure you understand the situation."

"I understand perfectly," Oliver said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth."You're not falling for him because that would be inconvenient and complicate things and maybe even make you vulnerable, which is your worst fear."

I stared at him, momentarily speechless.Sometimes I forgot how observant Oliver was, how he could see through my bullshit with surgical precision.It was both his most annoying and most endearing quality.

"I'm not afraid of being vulnerable," I managed, but the words sounded hollow even to my own ears.

"Sure," Oliver agreed, clearly not believing me."And I'm not afraid of spiders."

I glared at him, snatching my guitar case from the bed."I'm going to be late."

"For your non-date with the guy you're not falling for?"

"For work, jerkface," I muttered, picking up the guitar case and slinging the strap over my shoulder.

"Love you too," he replied cheerfully."And Casey?"

I paused, hand on the doorknob."What?"

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