They make the neck hole too big on purpose.
Most of the women here aren't leaving much to the imagination as far as their clothes are concerned. It certainly makes for a beautiful view. But Julia? She's wearing a simple, wide-neck shirt and blue jeans, by far showing the least amount of skin. Though I can tell she doesn't intend to radiate sex, she's one of those women who just can't hide it no matter how hard she tries.
"You didn't tell me you knew her," Luke says, his attention still glued on Julia.
I can't tear my eyes away, either. She gets up to grab some chips from the table and the way her jeans hug her ass during her short walk is enough to make me forget where I'm standing.
"I do now," I say. "She's my new roommate."
"Your new--what? You've been holding out on me, man. How long?"
"She moved in a week ago."
"No." Luke waves a hand, impatient. "I mean, how long have you been hitting that?"
"We're not messing around."
I know she can't hear us, but she must sense our stare because she glances over her shoulder at me. Her face instantly arranges into a menacing glare that tells me she's still pissed. She turns away, then a few seconds later looks back and catches me still watching her. Shaking her head, and coming to some conclusion, she gets to her feet and heads in my direction. The sparks shooting out of her eyes don't concern me. She's a little thing, what's she going to do? Kick me in my shin?
Luke stands straighter and says, "What the fuck are you waiting for?"
She's still far enough away that I can answer Luke's question. "She's not like that. She's not the hooking up type."
I say it more because I need Luke to believe it. I need him to stop looking at her the way he is right now. His thoughts are so loud I can almost see them flipping past my head. I know what he's thinking, because I'm thinking it, too. Except the images I conjure are more vivid. I know exactly what's beneath her casual clothes, what her breasts would look like cupped in my hands. I can almost conjure up what her skin would smell like. Taste like.
"Hi there, beautiful." Luke's tone drips in shamelessness. "Remember me?"
She eyes him for a few seconds, sizing him up. I want to laugh. She hates pet names. I've tried a few on her over the past week, just to see which one bugs her the most. Sweetheart seems to do it.
Beside me, Luke's phone pings. He pulls it out and immediately starts typing out a text. "Good luck with that, bro," he mumbles, before walking off.
I don't need luck.
Julia fixes her attention squarely on me. Hands on her hips, exotic features set in a defiant expression, she hisses, "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
She pokes me in the chest. "Stop looking at me like I'm naked."
"It's hard not to, the image is burned into my skull. Awful, really. I might need therapy."
She almost laughs, like she forgot for just a fraction of a second that she's supposed to be angry. It's not the first time she's done that. I'm not complaining, though, I like that she's intent on holding on to that anger. I like her best when she's all fired up.
"Find a way to get it out of your perverted head."
"There's only one way."
"What's that?"
"I have to take you for a ride."
Her draw drops. "You're unbelievable."
"Seriously. We need to just screw and get it over with. Ava doesn't have to know. It's the only way I can get the image of you naked out of my head."
Julia's got the type of body I could easily whip around and bend into a dozen different positions. Those long legs would look great pulled over my shoulders, or wrapped around my back, or...
Her finger appears in front of my face like a knife. "Cut it out. I'm not going to live with someone who looks at me like I'm something on a menu and--" She cuts off and for a moment, looking too angry to think of what else to say. She crosses her arms and turns from me like she's about to storm off, yet stands there, visibly ruminating her next words.
From the other side of me, a small hand lays on the side of my cheek, nudging my face until my eyes connect with the blue-eyed girl standing there, the one I've been talking to on and off all night.
"Hey you," she says, her words carrying a lot more than just a simple greeting.
I take her hand in mine and set it back down beside her. I've never liked women touching my face. It's always felt off to me, motherly and too sentimental.
"My friends are leaving. But I was wondering if I should stay?" she asks, slipping her fingers through a belt loop of my pants and bringing her small frame closer to mine.
Earlier in the night, I had all but decided I was going to fuck this girl. And she's making it blatantly obvious she wants nothing more. The problem is, I'm suddenly not tempted enough. I'm almost bored by the thought of it.
I open my mouth to speak, but catch a glimpse of Julia as the last traces of irritation on her face yield to an almost mischievous glint in her eyes. She shoots the blonde an apologetic smile, then looks to me and in a low, embarrassed way, says, "Hey, could you stop leaving your genital wart cream laying around the bathroom? It got all over the sink and it's a bitch to clean up. That stuff reeks."
She could win an Oscar for this performance. Perfect delivery, flawless expression. Her grave concern weighing on her face like a mask.
Beside me, the girl's eyebrows tug closer and her mouth twists downward into a mortified expression that she's trying but failing to keep back. It's all too perfect. I bring a hand up to the space between my eyes and laugh. A long, low chuckle.
"Um." The girl shifts in place, turning her body away from mine, "Okay. This is weird."
Takes me a few seconds for my shoulders to stop shaking and during that time I watch the girl walk across the room to join her waiting group of friends. Julia remains on the other side of me, radiating triumph.
"Is that what you wanted?" I ask, finally locking eyes with her. "Are you happy now?"
She smiles and I'm sure she's aware of how mocking she appears. Mocking enough to send a spark of irritation shooting through me. Julia's the one having fun at my expense tonight. I don't like when the tables turn like this.
Noticing my souring expression, Julia pats my chest and says, "Cool your tits, bro," and just in case I didn't get the reference, she adds, "payback's a bitch."
I watch her stroll past me and down the hall with such an air of defiance that it's almost a swagger. I can't deny it's a good look on her.
Just before she disappears into the bathroom, I call out, "I don't think you're ready to play this game, Julia."