Page 27 of SEAL's Doorstep Baby
“What the heck is this supposed to be? Is this even foldable?” I mutter, as I turn it this way and that, and finally the realization of what it is strikes me.
Lingerie. I am literally playing with Allison’s lingerie.
I quickly drop it back into the pile like a hot potato, furtively scanning around to ensure no one saw me fondling it.
I was not fondling it!
My inner voice is thick with indignation, but at the same time, I can’t stop looking around like a child who has dipped a couple of fingers into the cookie jar. My apprehension is not born out of guilt, but rather a desire not to be smacked upside the head by an irate Allison. It is just the sort of thing she would do.
Realizing that I have to finish folding her laundry before I can continue with the pile I have ready, I continue with my task, but my mind is stuck on these articles of clothing and their purpose.
While I had intellectually acknowledged that Allison was a woman, and a beautiful one at that, I have somehow managed to always see her as nothing more than Emily’s friend. Discounting that one night a decade ago, I’d managed to never think of Allison in that way.
Things have been different lately. Whether or not that’s because we’re older now or because of the extreme close proximity I don’t know, but Allison has been… lingering in my mind.
And in my glances.
I don’t know how my lingering glances have remained unnoticed for this long, but I am grateful for it. I can’t afford to have her feeling uncomfortable being in the same home with me.
That’s why you have to stop imagining her in the lingerie, Jake.I warn myself.
It’s not like I’ve never dated women before. Kate was a fun if not unimportant six month fling. Naomi was the closest I ever came to the life I’m living now.
Though that’s not fair. I almost married Naomi. Allison and I…
Well, even if I stare at her, I know she’s uninterested in me. Her negative opinion of Emily’s “meathead” brother has always been apparent. This is no more than playing house.
Fully chastised, I gather the laundry, and my mind doesn’t wander.
I take her clothes to her room, fully intent on just giving them to her. I knock on her door, but I don’t get a response immediately, so I knock again. Finally I hear an answer. “Come in!” She yells, prompting me to push open the door, and I see her propped up against the headboard, with her reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.
I take a second to just stare at her. Propped up against the headboard like she is, she looks like a goddess receiving tribute from her faithful followers. I shake myself out of the vision I find myself trapped in, returning to the present as I do so.
“Here’s your laundry.” I tell her, dropping the clothes on her bed and turning to leave.
I am almost at the door when I am hit with the impulse to tease her just a little bit.
“You know, I always had you pegged as a granny panties kind of girl, with the glasses and book thing you have going for you. Who would have thought it? Tsk tsk.”
I expect a harsh response, but instead, Allison flings herself off the bed and charges at me, screaming with rage.
“You. Are. Such. A. Jerk.” She screams, pummeling me with a throw pillow after every word.
I know I should be taking her assault a little more seriously, but I can’t help the uncontrollable laughter that follows her pitiful attempt at violence, and I decide to let her know what I think of it.
“Seriously, Maddie can hit harder than you are doing right now. If this is meant to hurt me, then trust me, you’re doing itright. I’m dying…” I pause, and Allison suspends her hits with the pillow to hear me out, “…of embarrassment.” I finish, and she goes berserk.
“You deserve to burn in hell, Jake.”
“Now what’d I do to deserve that, Allie?”
“For going through my laundry. Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed.” She’s finally stopped hitting me, and I can tell that she truly is embarrassed. I don’t want her to feel this way. There is absolutely nothing wrong with having lingerie.
Somehow in the middle of our mock fight she has ended up straddling me while I am trapped underneath her.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her sincerely. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Honestly. I didn’t go through your laundry, either. I was trying to get a load in the dryer, and I saw some clothes were already in there. Your stuff. I just wanted to get them to you and I saw them by accident.”
In the middle of my explanation I have somehow found myself leaning against the headboard with her on me. I don’t realize this until she moves the tiniest bit.
