Does Your Lack of Conscience Tell You Everything's Alright?

I turn to Alex, careful to hide the marking on my back. Water drips from his hair onto his shoulders and down his bare chest. One hand is placed on his hip and the other is holding a towel firmly around his waist.

Oh my.

His eyes drift from my face over the rest of my body. Heat rushes to my cheeks.

"Um," I start.

His eyes return to my face.

"Not that I'm complaining, but, really, what are you doing?" he asks.

"Nothing," I answer.

I'm just standing in front of his mirror in my underwear. Yeah, that's nothing.

It's like something Jeffery would make me do. Except I'd be fully naked. There was more than one occasion that he made me wait for him in his bedroom with no clothing.

It was a special-occasions type thing.

His mattress was a hell of a lot softer than mine. That may have been the only positive.

"This doesn't look like nothing," Alex states.

"My clothes were uncomfortable so I took them off."

Well, I guess that works. I really don't want him knowing about my insecurities.

"You can have some of mine if you need. I can take you shopping later," he says, turning to his closet and opening it, "Anything in particular you'd like to wear?"

"Anything is fine."

"Okay," one hand releases the towel.

It stays in its spot on his hips.

"If this towel falls, no peeking," Alex says.

"Sure."

No promises.

He rummages through his closet, pulling out a band tee and a pair of pajama pants.

"These okay?" he asks, turning to show me the articles of clothing.

I nod. He smiles and places the clothing on the bed, grabbing his towel.

Damn, it didn't fall.

"So, why don't you tell me what you were really doing?" he asks, sitting on his bed.

"What are you talking about?" I return.

How does he know?

"Your voice changes when you lie. It's barely noticeable unless you're listening for it."

I wasn't aware of that. Did Jeffery know? He couldn't have. He always accused me of lying when I was telling the truth. He never took the time to learn about these little mannerisms.

But Alex has.

"Well," Alex pushes.

"I was just looking at your wall."

"In your underwear?"

I sigh and sit on the bed next to him, shoulders slouching.

"I was comparing," I say.

"Comparing what?"

"Myself to the girls on your wall."

"What gir— Oh," he looks at the woman covered wall.

"Yeah."

"Why would you compare yourself to them?" he asks, returning his gaze to me.

I can't help sighing again.

"I like you," I state.

"Yeah, I know that. But what does that have to do with you comparing yourself to them?"

My gaze shifts to my lap.

"Those pictures are all over your wall, Alex. It's obvious you find them attractive and I want you to find me attractive. But I don't look anything like them."

Fingers push my chin to look into Alex's eyes.

"You are attractive. I don't want to hear you say you're not. As for the girls on the wall, they're all fake; no one really looks like that. Its true, you're not like them," he leans closer, his lips close to mine. "You're so much more," he whispers.

His lips touch my lips. Sparks shoot through my body. He's careful, not forcing his tongue down my throat. He places a hand on the small of my back, leaving the other under my chin. His lips are soft and move with mine. This is perfect.

And nothing like Jeffery.