Page 85 of Withered

“Yeah?” I ask, confused.

“He never just sleeps with anyone and does not have sex with them,” she goes on. “Are you getting my point here?”

I shake my head no, then remember she can’t see me and say, “Nope.”

“You are impossible,” Kristy huffs on the other side.

“Kristy, do you think I’m rushing here?” I ask the obvious question that has crossed my mind a trillion times now.

“Every relationship is unique, Rose. It’s been barely a week and a half. You simply have to see where it goes. I can’t say anything because my own went down the hill,” Kristy states.

“Okay. I gotta go; I’ll call you later,” I say it and hang up.

I grab my stuff and walk over to Jake’s place. I knock on the door and wait for Jake to open it. He motions to enter but says nothing. I notice his jaw is clenched.

“Hey, is everything okay?” I ask.

“I just got off the phone with my mum,” he says it firmly.

We go upstairs to his room. I sit on the edge of the bed and put my bag down. “What happened? Same thing?”

He just nods and huffs. “Forget about it. Let’s work on that report.”

I nod and take out my book. Jake, on the other hand, takes off his shirt. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like to you?” He raises his eyebrow.

“But why?” I ask him, and he shrugs his shoulders.

“Does it bother you, Rose?” He smirks, knowing exactly how much it distracts me. I bet he is doing this on purpose.Game on, Henderson.

“Nope. I have seen better,” I tell him confidently, but my eyes betray me by taking in his body.

“Is that so? Who?” He folds his arms, flexing his muscles.

“Uhm, it doesn’t matter,” I say desperately to avoid this topic.

“Just admit it, Rose,” he tries to coax me.

I shake my head and chuckle, “No.”

“Admit it, or I will make you,” he says it with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“No-” Jake traps me on the bed before I can finish, my hands above my head, and our lips dangerously close to each other.

“Say it. I’ve seen you staring at me from your window a few times,” Jake states, and my eyes go wide.Crap.

He runs his fingers down the side of my body and comes to a halt near the hem of my shirt. For a second, I think he's going to pull the shirt or something, then he does something completely unexpected.

He tickles me, and I am a ticklish person. I burst out laughing, and tears well up in my eyes.

“Jake. Please. Stop.” I manage to get the words out between laughter.

“Admit it,” Jake demands.

“Fine. Stop first.” I beg of him.

He stops for a second, and I say, “Your body is distracting, and it does bother me.”

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