Page 3 of Arseni
I cross my arms over my chest and try to ignore my blistering cheeks.The spot that he kissed me stands out among every other inch of flesh.“I’m happy you’re comfortable, Arseni.I so badly want us to be comfortable with each other.But as with any relationship, boundaries are important.I think maybe justmomwould be best, or if you aren’t comfortable with that, you can call me Margot.And as far as kissing goes?—”
“I’ve been here five minutes, and you’re already giving me the boundaries talk?Come on, Mommy.I thought you were cool.”
“I’m…” My mouth hangs open a moment.I clear my throat and try again.“I’m not supposed to becool.I’m your foster mother.”I nearly cringe at the word ‘mother.’I never considered it to be dirty before, but suddenly, I don’t like it.“My job is to keep you safe, and?—”
He laughs.“I’m a good six inches taller than you.Who are you protecting me from?”
I don’t answer.I don’thavean answer.
“Look, it’s okay,” he says as he creeps toward me.I don’t fight the impulse to back away this time.“You don’t have to protect me.You didn’t order a teenage boy so you could protect him, anyway.”
Goosebumps break out over my flesh as the distance between us shortens.I stand still and try to make sense of his words.He can’t be insinuating what I think he is.
“I didn’torderanyone.That isn’t the way it works.”
“Really?”He humphs.“I guess you got lucky then.”
“Lucky?”The word nearly catches in my throat.I don’t know that I want to hear his answer.“I’m not sure what you mean.”
He tilts his head as he smiles.“Yes, you do.”
Hairs raise on my arms, and I fight the urge to rub the bumps away.He’s scaring me.I shouldn’t show him that.
“I’m thirty years old, and you are achild.What you’re insinuating is not appropriate nor?—”
“Thirteen years isn’t even close to the biggest age gap between me and one of my rapists.”
When my eyes pop, he laughs.
“Kidding.You’re my first.If that makes you feel special.”
“Excuseme?”
He holds up his hands.“I’m not complaining.”
I blink several times before answering.“I don’t know what would give you the idea that I would?—”
“That big sign on your forehead that saysDown to Fuck.”He points to the invisible sign.
“I amnot… I wouldnever…Jesus, I’m not apedophile.I didn’t even want a boy, let alone a teenager.I was hoping for a young girl I couldhelp, not…”
He puts his hand over his heart.“Are you saying you didn’t want me?”
I uncross my arms.“No.No, that isn’t what I meant.I just meant?—”
“Oops, now you’re backtracking.Lying doesn’t cultivate trust, and the most important part of making a foster feel safe is proving to them that they can trust you.You took the classes.You know that.”
His lips, lifted on one side of his devilishly handsome face, both settle me and make me squirm.They settle me because,finally, I realize he’s just fucking with me.They make me squirm because I shouldn’t be considering him devilishly handsome.
“I think I need to call Angela,” I say before brushing away the cold sweat on my forehead.I turn to go to my kitchen where I left my phone but gasp when Arseni grips my shoulders and forces my back against the wall, caging me in with strong arms that make me question who the adult is.
My breaths come out erratic, my chest rubbing against Arseni with each inhale.His body heat makes my skin feel impossibly hot, as if he’s on fire, and the whole thing feels so terrifyingly erotic that I stare at his lips, certain they’ll move to kiss me.It’s strange andwrong, so wrong, but it makes me think about the last time I was with a man, eight months ago.
Arseni is not a man.He’s a boy.
I close my eyes and swallow while he chuckles, warm gusts of air hitting my face.
“I’m just messing with you, Ms.Stevens.I know you don’t want to fuck me.”
