“Although,” he says, leaning forward an inch while still holding the phone and keeping his grip on my neck, “I will admit that it never stopped me before.”
I suck in my belly. “You have… You’ve recorded me before.”
“Yeah.”
“Like, when I…” I have to just breathe for a second before I can go on. “D-danced for you?”
“Yes.”
“But you… How? I never saw anything. I never?—”
He motions to the table with his head. “I hid it, and you aren’t very observant. When you get going for me, you don’t care about anything else.”
He’s right about that. When I get going for him, I don’t see anything else but him. I don’t feel anything else but his rough hands on my body. I don’t breathe anything else, either, except his scent of strawberries, sweet and thick.
“But that’s…” I rake my nails up and down his thighs. “You never said anything. You never… That’s wrong. That’s?—”
“A fucking asshole thing to do, I know. A felony, I know that too,” he tells me. Then, squeezing my neck again, “And if you want, I can take you to the cops after this, but it was all I had. Ofyou. You dancing for me on the screen. You going to pieces for me in my lap. Your voice, your moans. Your gorgeous fucking face, all drugged up and flushed. This is all I had of youbloomingfor me like a fucking rose. I had you in my arms every night and still I went home empty-handed. Still, I went home trying to remember what you felt like. Smelled like. Trying to remember how soft you were, how soft your skin was. How small your body was, against mine. How easy it would be to crush you if I wanted to, to cherish you. How easy it would be to get inside you and how difficult it would be to make myself fit and not hurt you. So yeah, I admit to breaking a few laws while I waited for you.”
“For me,” I breathe out.
“To say yes,” he finishes.
“You watched my videos every day?” I ask then, disbelief clear in my voice.
“On repeat.”
“You—"
“Helped me focus before practice.”
My heart skips a beat again. “It d-did?”
“Yeah. I still suck though. Just a little less.”
“You don’t suck,” I defend.
A puff of a breath escapes him. Then, “And then I watched them at night.”
“But you were in my room every night.”
“So you do the math.”
“You…” I swallow, or try to, but all my emotions are jammed up in my throat. “You watched those videos while you wereinmy room? But I… I was right there.”
“And you were righthere,” he bites out. “In my lap, and I still didn’t have you. So yeah, I watched you on my screen while you slept only a few feet away. Because you were right there but still you were a million miles away. And I fucked my fist too because you wouldn’t let me get close to you. You wouldn’t let me have you.”
“You’re…” My breath snags in my throat and comes out as a hiccup. “You’re crazy. You’re obsessed.”
His chest shudders. “Told you I could teach you things about obsession.” Then, “Still feel safe with me?”
Yeah, he did say he could teach me things. I didn’t believe him then, but I do now. I also didn’t believe that I could be as crazy as this, as him but apparently I am because I don’t hate this. In fact I think I might like it. I might love it. Just as much as leaving my window open for him to sneak into my room in the middle of the night. Just as much as doingthisforhim.
How can anything or anyone bad touch me when he’s obsessed with me the way he is? When only a few feet of distance between us seem like a thousand miles to him.
But more than that I love that I help him. That watching me helps him focus. I was worried about that, wasn’t I. So maybeI don’t have to. Maybe Icantake his pain away. Maybe he was right all along and I don’t want to wait any longer. Not even a single second.
Gripping his thighs, I say, urgently, “I want it. Right now.”
