Stop Him

Steven

Steven rolled up in an old school Mustang, waving me over.

    Charles was seated on the steps of his house next to a little boy and girl with similar features and my eyes met his as I shuffled down my walk toward the car.  He looked away first, evasive, saying something lowly to his sister and she made a cheesy, gap toothed smile.

    I found myself thinking they were cute together, the three of them, as I ducked my head, hopping down the front steps, glancing warily down at Steven.

    He grinned at me as I opened the door, sliding down onto the passenger seat.  “Hey,” he said.

    “Hey,” I muttered back distractedly, glancing back toward my bedroom window.

    The girl.

     She was standing there.

    I could literally see her.

    "So, Gigi, I was wondering--"

    Glancing back at him, I pointed up at the window, “Do you see—” but I halted the question because when I glanced back, she was gone.

    Clear of the window.

    Out of sight.

    Dammit.

    “See what?” Steven asked, leaning closer to me, trying to look where I was pointing.

    His cologne smelled good but it was pretty strong.  Putting my hand back onto my lap, I just shook my head, “Never mind.”

    “Ah, okay?”  He was smiling but he’d scrunched his brow with confusion.

      “So where are we going?” I wondered, chewing on my lip.

    He seemed to notice, his eyes drawn to my mouth.  I stopped troubling my lip, frowning at his obvious interest.  “You could come over my place.”

    “I don’t know about that.”  I tucked my hair behind my ear, squirming a bit.  His place sounded . . . I don’t know.

    “Just to hang out,” he said, shrugging.  Feigning nonchalance.

    His blue eyes glimmered, his smile boyish, charming—a wolf in sheep’s skin, this one. My stomach turned as I took in his expression, the way he’d turned his body to be closer to me.  In my space.  Maybe I . . . shouldn’t go?  But the alternative— I swallowed, glancing back toward my bedroom window. “Okay,” I agreed, worrying my lip again.

    “Cool.”  He put the car in gear and rolled away from the curb just as I saw my mom walking down the street, a bag in hand.  She glanced up as we passed and I saw her glance backwards, doing a double take in the side mirror.  Great.  “I was surprised you wanted to hang out,” Steven admitted.

    “I didn’t have any other plans,” I said, shrugging.

    “Damn, that’s an ego boost,” he chuckled.

    “Do you need an ego boost?” I asked, quirking a brow at him.

    He bit his lip, glancing from me back out the windshield.  “What you saw today—”

    “It’s none of my business,” I let him know breezily.  He must be talking about the lip gloss.

    “Hm.  True.  But still.  You should know that it’s not . . . like that.”

    It was definitely like that but okay.  “Like I said.  None of my business.”  I gave him a serious look and his eyes flickered to me, his shoulders visibly relaxing.  “How do you have a driver’s license?”

    “I was held back in the second grade.  I’m seventeen.”

    Oh.  That made sense.  “And somebody let you borrow their car?”

    “I mean, I built it,” Steven said, shrugging.  I stared at him hard with obvious disbelief.  He noticed, glancing over at me from the tips of his eyes, an easy smile roving over his features.  “I’m serious.”  His eyes flickered back to the road as he went on, “Dad has an auto shop.  We’ve been working on cars together since I could lift a wrench.”

    “Your dad has an auto shop?”

    “Yeah, nothing crazy, but he’s doing alright for himself,” he shrugged.

    I thought about my dad, the mechanic he once was.  I’d never suggest that he work for Steven’s father though—he’d mess it up and everybody at school would find out about the Bartholomeau curse.  Alcoholism is a generational issue in my family.

    “That’s awesome.”  I forced a small smile.  “Is that what you want to do?  Work on cars?”

    “Not really.”  Another shrug.  “I think if I make it my career, it won’t be fun anymore.”

    “Then what do you want to do when you grow up?”  I feigned a serious expression.

    He laughed.  “I’m not sure, honestly.  Something involving traveling.”

    “That’s everybody,” I told him, rolling my eyes.

    “I like you Gigi,” he said easily, catching me off guard.  My lips parted, an outright rejection on the tip of my tongue when he added, “Like a friend, of course.”  He raised his brows, making a point of hitting on the boundaries I’d set for today’s hang out session.

    “Are you messing around with Ash?”  I just blurted it out.  I don’t know what got into me.

    He looked surprised, then concerned.  “No.  Why?  Did she say that?”  Too fast.  He’d said it too fast for it to be a normal statement.  Defensive.

    “No,” I denied immediately.  Risky.  This was a risky conversation.

    “Oh, then why—”

    “I just . . . I don’t know, I got the feeling that you liked her.”  Yeah.  That’s a lie.  It was obviously her pining after him.  Still, to say it outright like that, to throw her under the bus—I wouldn’t do that.  But now—

    His eyes lit up.  “No.  I do like somebody though.”  Playful.  Light.

    Steven definitely wanted me to ask who.

    If I do, he’ll think I’m interested in him.

    If I don’t, is that rude?

    I’m cool with being rude.

    “That’s nice,” I said, evasive.  “What are we going to do at your house?”

    “Whatever you want,” he shrugged.

    But what does he want?

    He looked relaxed in the driver’s seat, calm.

    “We could watch a movie.”  That’s kind of safe, right?

    “Sure.”  His eyes flickered back to me and I saw it.  He’d wanted me to pick that option.

    They call it Netflix and Chill for a reason, right?

    Shoot.

    This was such a bad idea.

    Regret was seeping into me even as he pulled into the driveway of a really large house.  He’d said his old man was doing well but he’d definitely downplayed how well.  They had to be either edging toward rich or on the brink of bankruptcy trying to pay off this house.

    “My humble abode,” he said, smirking.  He looked proud.

    If there’s one thing I’ve learned so far, nothing about Steven is humble.

     He got out and I noticed he was dressed in a gray shirt and black joggers.  Powerfully built with big shoulders and a trim waist, I tried to ignore my mounting anxiety as I stumbled along after him up the walkway, noticing that there weren’t any other cars in the driveway.  “Your parents—”

    “It’s date night,” he shrugged, opening the door.

    Double shoot.

    “Oh.”  I sounded dumb.

    He gestured for me to enter and I hesitated.

    Options.  I have options, right?

    I thought about the girl, seated on my bed, waiting—this was still the best option by a long shot.  I took a step into his house, glancing about.  It had a rustic feel to it, lots of old car décor throughout it.  All in all, they were definitely rich, and the size of the TV hanging on the wall was ridiculous.  “Very humble,” I agreed, giving him a sarcastic look.

    He just c****d his head to the side.  “Thirsty?”

    A . . . drink.  I stared up at him, hoping there wasn’t a double inuendo being used here.  “Water, please,” I muttered.

    “You can take off your shoes and leave them by the door,” he said, kicking his own off.  “I’ll get you some water, alright?”

    Normal.  He seemed almost normal as he headed toward the kitchen.  Maybe I didn’t need to feel so worried?  Kicking my shoes off, I headed toward the huge couch, taking a seat.  Comfortable.  I literally sank into the cushion, feeling my body relax.  Tired.  I must really be tired.

    “Here.”  A bottle by my face.

    I took it from him with a thanks, watching him round the couch nervously.

    He grabbed the remote from the side table, falling to the couch next to me, jostling me a bit as he turned on the TV, heading straight for Netflix.  Of course.

    “Want to pick?” he wondered, offering the remote.

    I felt his knee knock into mine and scooted it a bit away from him, shaking my head.  “You can be the remote master.”

    “Remote master.  I like it.”  He tossed his arm over the back of the couch, behind me, and I noticed how close he was.  It was on purpose, this closeness.  Pulling my legs up onto the couch, I put my knees kind of between us, hoping that would keep him where he was.  Focused on the TV, he hardly seemed to notice my change of position, roving over titles.  “What do you like to watch normally?”

    “Lucifer,” I said automatically.

    He chuckled.  “I meant movies.”

    “Anything with Seth Rogen in it,” I said, grinning.

    “There’s that one about the neighbors of the frat house—”

    “You mean ‘Neighbors’?” I laughed.

    “Yeah,” he said, quirking a brow.

    I nodded.  “Good pick.”

                “That’s why I’m the remote master,” he said, wagging his eyebrows at me.

                He was . . . kind of funny, I guess.

                Buzzing.  I reached for my pocket but realized it wasn’t my phone.  Biting his lip, he checked the messages and I tried to will my eyes away from it.  Nudes, right?  I bet it’s a lot of nudes.  He really does seem like the type.  Tossing his phone to the side, he hit play and I felt his side bump into my knees.  Heh, the defense mechanism was working.  Smart body positioning.  Glancing up at his side, I gave him a sweet smile, taking in the way he was glaring at my legs. Then his eyes raked over my body and I felt . . . I shifted, quickly averting his eyes as his rose to my face.  Bad.  This was probably a bad idea.

      A soft tug at my hair.

    Hand brushing my back.

    I felt him twirling my hair absently and tried to focus on the movie.

    Eyes forward.  Tense.

    His hand pushed my hair to one side, away from my neck.

    Don’t look at him.

    If I look—

    “Gigi, you’re so cute,” he whispered in my ear, breath hot against my throat.

    I swallowed, ducking my head.  I’d had one or two guys come on to me before but they were obviously less experienced.  Not so great with girls.  Awkward.  Nervous.

    Steven didn’t feel like that at all.  Awkward and nervous didn’t seem like his thing.

    His every action felt too smooth.  Calculated.

    “I said friends, Steven.”  My tone was sharp and when I gazed up at him, he smiled at me.

    It was a disarming smile.  “Chill, friends can call friends cute.  No need to be so self-conscious, Gigi.”  Hands running through my hair, smoothing it over my back.  Friends don’t pet friends or . . . look at them the way he was looking at me.

    Licking my lips, nervous, I didn’t know what to say.

    And his eyes, they shifted to my mouth.

    Turning forward again, I thought about leaving.

    And I thought about how I didn’t feel like I was being watched here.  I mean, except for Steven who was very obviously staring at me but at least he’s not some creepy undead phantom girl.

    I also hadn’t seen a ghost in this house yet.

    And it was a really, really nice TV.

    An arm over my shoulders, pulling me into his side.  My knees slid over his thigh, pushing them up toward my chest.  So smooth, the way he’d managed to move me into a better position for himself in one swift motion.  Practiced.  He was obviously used to girls.  Lots of girls.

    “Are you comfortable?” he wondered.

    No.

    I mean, yeah.

    He was warm and my eyelids were getting heavy leaning up against him.

    But . . . no.

    How could I be comfortable right now?

    His hand slipped down, rubbing my arm.  Glancing up at him, I found him staring at the TV, watching, but after a second, he glanced down at me.  “You need something?” he wondered, smile playing on his lips.  Like the cat who cornered the mouse.

    Swallowing, I shook my head no, forcing my eyes back to the TV.

    He hadn’t jumped me yet so . . . there’s that.

    When his hand lifted, thumb pressing to my lip, removing it from my teeth, I turned to find him right there, staring down at me with palpable heat, our noses nearly touching.  “You keep biting that lip,” he whispered.  “Are you nervous about something?”  Hedging.  Pushing.

    He’s so . . . pushy, I think.

    “Um—”

    He kissed me softly and I turned forward abruptly, stunned.

    A chuckle.  “So cute,” he muttered, stroking my hair some more.

    Unwanted heat rushed to my cheeks.

    “You’re so cute, Gigi,” he chuckled.

    “I’m not cute,” I muttered, flustered.  He was playing with me.

    “So red,” he laughed.

    Is he . . . making fun of me?  Embarrassed, I went to stand up, to leave, but he caught my arm, keeping me seated on the couch.  “Don’t get mad,” he said, more serious now.  I glared at him and his hand slid down my arm, his fingers pressing to mine against the couch.  “Was that your first kiss?” he whispered, curious.

    “No.”  I mean, when I was in kindergarten a boy kissed me on the mouth.  A kiss is a kiss.  It still counts . . . right?

    He smiled, nudging my nose with his, leaning closer.

    I went to jerk my hand from his but his grip just tightened on me, his free hand cupping my cheek so I couldn’t turn away as he pressed forward again, kissing me softly.  I stopped breathing, shocked, as his mouth moved against mine.  Soft lips, tasting of mint—it wasn’t . . . bad.  No fireworks either, though.  Not that I expected fireworks or anything, I just—

    A peck, then another, then a third—I gasped against his lips, seeking oxygen, and he opened his mouth against mine, hand tangling in my hair at the nape of my neck.  A chuckle against my mouth.  “Breathe through your nose,” he instructed and I . . . I was struggling. I pressed my hand to his chest but he hardly seemed to notice, pushing forward some more, body pressing to mine.  “Um, wait,” I said, pulling backwards, panting.

    He let me go, looking me over.  “Hm?” he wondered, quirking a brow.

    “Friends,” I breathed.  “You said—"

     “Yeah,” he said, kissing me softly again.  “Friends.”

    “But,” I muttered against his mouth, pushing at his chest, “no, I mean, seriously—”

    “Seriously,” he whispered, smiling against my mouth.

    “But, um, Steven—”

    He kissed me deeply this time and I stiffened, fingers crumpling his shirt.  Tongue.  I felt his tongue in my mouth, hand still tangled in my hair, and squeezed my eyes shut, just—flustered, confused—I mean, I was worried he’d jump me but this . . . he managed to push me down onto my back and his hands, I felt them move over my sides, gripping my hips.  Wait.  He nipped at my bottom lip, tugging on it with his teeth and when I turned away, gasping, trying to breathe away from his mouth, he slipped his mouth down my neck.  I made a soft squeak, feeling one hand slip up my shirt, cupping my—  

    The sound of keys in the front door.

    He pulled backwards and I sat up quickly, raking my hand through my hair.  Cussing, he leaned back against the couch as his parents walked into the house.  “Oh, hey hon,” his mom said.

    “Hey,” he said, giving a small smile, the epitome of calm.

    I didn’t feel calm at all.

    “And . . . oh, I’ve never met you before,” she said, looking me over curiously.

    “A friend from school,” Steven said.  “She’s new.  Her name’s Gigi.”

    “Oh, Gigi!  Short for Ginger?” A man boomed.  His father.  He was really handsome, probably what the grown version of Steven would look like.

    I couldn’t find words.

    There were no words right now.

    Steven laughed.  “Actually, it’s—”

    “Just Gigi is fine,” I interrupted, finding my voice to avoid my given name. Even after . . . well, all of that, I still didn’t want to hear the G word.

    Steven gave me a funny look but his parents smiled.  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Gigi,” his mom said and I . . . felt super awkward, thinking about how their son had just been feeling me up on their living room couch.

    “Nice to meet you too,” I managed.  Was I smiling?  God, I felt winded, anxious—my palms were a sweaty mess right now.  Could anybody tell?

    “Oh, this is a funny one,” his dad said, glancing at the TV.

    “She loves Seth Rogen too,” Steven said, nudging me.

    “Ah, I like her already,” his dad winked at me, chuckling as his wife rolled her eyes.

    They seemed like nice people.  Too nice to be raising a Steven.

    “I thought it was date night,” Steven hedged.  His annoyance was showing.

    “You know, we went out to the restaurant, heard the wait time, and decided to get the order to go.  Forty minutes.  Can you believe that?” his dad said.

    “Your father forgot to reserve a table,” his mother said, giving him a look.

    Steven’s dad raked his hand through his hair, expression sheepish.  “I’m going to go pour you a nice glass of wine, hon.”

    “You do that,” she said, smiling a little too hard at him.

    Ooh, Steven’s dad was in trouble.

    They headed into the kitchen and Steven glanced over at me.  “Your parents seem pretty cool.”

    “Real cool.”  He rolled his eyes.

    Biting my lip, I thought about my position just a second ago.

    Things had moved so fast.

    And his mouth, his hands—that was so dangerous.

    And I was torn between relief and . . . plain shock.

    That really just happened?

    He’d moved straight toward second base and, even now, glancing over at him as he was staring ahead at the screen, sulking, I got the gist that he’d had no intentions of stopping there.  If his parents hadn’t walked in, would he have listened to me at all?  He wasn’t listening when he kissed me, wasn’t really paying attention to how nervous I was or my hands, pushing at him, trying to hold him at bay—would he have hurt me?

    Glancing back at me, he smirked.

    Handsome.

    Like, bad boy handsome.

    But he certainly fit the persona.  He didn’t seem to be a good guy.

    Still, I understood why Ash couldn’t stop staring at him during lunch.

    When his arm landed over my shoulders, pulling me close to him again, I glared up at him, defensive, worried, and he didn’t seem to notice or care.

    Buzzing.  His phone kept going off.

    “You going to get that?” I wondered, glancing at the device next to him.

    He sighed, checking his phone.  He’d tried to turn the screen so I wouldn’t see, not that I wanted to see, but somehow I did.  Ash.  Her chest bare, lips in a pout.  Oh.  Forcing my eyes forward, I wondered why he was bothering with me if Ash was after him.  She was gorgeous.  And willing.

    Maybe he’s one of those weirdos who like a challenge?

    Or someone new to conquer.

    Was I his latest conquest?

    Maybe he likes virgins?  Did he take Ash’s virginity?  That would explain a lot.

    “I should drop you back home,” he muttered, twirling my hair again.

    Somehow I knew he was going to go meet up with Ash.  The movie hadn’t even ended yet and he was already trying to get me out of here.  Good.  Hopefully the drive back to my house would be eventless.

    I’d opted for a year without events for once but so far I’ve got a ghost stalking me in my own house and a bad boy who can’t keep his hands to himself.  Why me?

    I said bye to his parents who were wining and fine dining in their own home and was thankful that Steven wasn’t in a chatty mood as he drove me back to my place.  In fact, he seemed kind of impatient, irritated with the two other drivers on the road with him.  When he pulled up to my house, I wen to jump out of the vehicle but he caught my arm.  “You didn’t say goodbye.”

    “Oh,” I muttered.  “Bye.”  Turning back toward the door to escape, he yanked my arm and I turned to come nose to nose with him.  Shoot.  He went to kiss me and I pulled back.  “I keep saying just friends—”  His hand caught my hair, forcing my mouth to his.  Stiffening, I felt his tongue in my mouth again, probing and squeezed my eyes shut, panic tugging at me as the hand on my arm slipped to my thigh, thumb pressing between my legs.  “Wait.”  It was a strangled sound against his mouth, a broken word, as I gripped his wrist, his fingers slipping between my legs.  Rubbing.  Aggressive.  I tugged at his wrist but he was so strong, so much larger than me—in my struggle his grip on my hair had edged toward painful and, scared he might hurt me, I just froze.  His kisses became less desperate as he focused on his hand which he’d pushed into my pants now, fingers slipping over my panties.  Nobody had ever touched me before.  I whined, trying to squeeze my legs shut, sensitive against his rough fingers.  Weird.  It felt weird.  Panting, my abdomen dipped, lips parting against his mouth.  It felt . . . it was supposed to feel like this, right?  Slower motions, gentler, he chuckled against my mouth as I shook under his fingers, my nails biting into his arms.  It felt . . . it was wrong but it felt—

    “I get two of your firsts today,” he whispered against my mouth.

    I could hardly hear him through the pleasure that shot through my entire body, trembling where I was seated.  It was . . . so intense and through my haze of euphoria, I remembered where we were.  Who he was.  What we were doing.  “I have to go,” I whispered, looking up at him, still dazed.

    “Yeah, me too,” he whispered back, finally letting me go.

    Sliding away from him, my knees felt wobbly as I climbed out of his car.

    “I’ll see you tomorrow Gigi,” he called.  Turning back from where I was standing feeling dizzy on the sidewalk, I took in the determined gleam in his eyes and shivered.  A threat.  I felt like he was threatening me.

    I’d only walked up two steps when he pulled off, tires squealing.

    Steven is such a gentleman, let me tell you.

    Glancing up toward my bedroom window, I didn’t see the shadow of the girl.

    I was too shell shocked by what had just happened to care about her right now anyway.