Kiss and Tell

Brendon poked his head around my door. I knew I should have bolted it shut. "Hey, whatcha doing?"

I held up a wad of cash. "Counting." I mumbled. I took my time counting the rest of the cash before I put it back in the drawer and slammed it shut. He was still there. I got to my feet and glared at him, waiting for him to speak. Why was he here, anyway? Couldn’t he leave me alone, just for one minute?

"Nice hiding spot."
"Shut up."

He came in and put himself uncomfortably close to me. "I won't tell." He said softly.

Suddenly, I knew exactly why he had came into my room. I glared up at him. "Go away."

He took my arm and pulled me up. "Oh, come on, can't we just be friends?" He murmured in my ear.

I wasn‘t glaring anymore, I was glowering. I was wishing him dead with my eyes. He knew that his voice was silky smooth, that his smell had taken over my senses. He counted on all that happening. It was part of this sick game he played.

"No." I tried desperately to keep my voice hard. To keep the ice-cold tone to it, but the ice was melting. And it was melting fast.

"Yes." His lips touched my ear. I could feel his hot breath on my neck. I was either going to throw myself at him or rip his throat out in less than three seconds if he kept this up. I could almost see the smile on those damn lips of his.

I swallowed hard as he moved his body closer to mine, now touching me head to toe.
I think I was leaning towards the throwing myself at him option. I swallowed again when he kissed my throat, right under my ear. I didn’t trust myself to speak--I could barely trust myself to think.

I could sense he was about to say something to me, something that was suppose to woo me into giving into him. And then the sound of the door to our apartment opening came to our attention and he sighed heatedly into my ear. I pushed myself away from him and he dropped to sit casually on the bean bag chair.

"Anybody home?" The sing-song voice of Melanie flowed through the house. I silently damned her to hell as I perched stiffly on my bed.

"In here!" I called back, hoping she wouldn’t ask why we were in my bedroom. What would I say? Well, Brendon and I were just about to rip each others clothes of.
No big deal. Yeah, that'd go over well.

Brendon flashed me a grin. I scowled at him as Melanie appeared at the doorway. She didn’t seem to notice that we were both in my room which never, and I repeat never, happens.

I knew why I had damned her as she stood in the door. Not because she interrupted us--she couldn‘t have came sooner. The fact that she was breath-takingly gorgeous had a lot to do with it. Add her feminine, cutesy voice, her wonderful personality and just a tinge of being too trusting made her a guys perfect fantasy.

"Welcome home." Charming as ever, Brendon eyed her long, tan legs displayed by her denim mini. Unwanted jealousy would have flooded my veins if he didn’t do that to every girl who was bold enough to shed some skin--and we live in California so that’s just about everyone--or that my legs were just a little bit longer and a soft, peachy white that made the fellows drool. Clearly, I found myself attractive.

Just, not in the same way as lingerie model Melanie. Not in the jaw-dropping, zipper tugging, oh my GOD way.

But I wasn't bitter.

She held up a bag. "Chinese." She said, smiling and then dancing her way back to the kitchen. Yeah, that’s right. Melanie doesn't walk. She dances. She floats. Even in 7-inch heels.

I followed mutely, staring absently at my hot pink toenails. I wondered briefly why I was friends with her. There was no way anything could top how she moved in her stripper-heels.

Yeah. she was a dancer. Yeah, she made more money than me and Brendon combined. Yeah, she was that graceful and hot and sexy.

Did I say I wasn't bitter?

I think I might have lied.