CHAPTER 6
Brittney
Sean and I breeze through the questions in under five minutes.
He’s probably supposed to be hammering me hard, this is a huge investigation after all, but the way he asks me questions feels like I’m just telling my friend how my weekend was.
But he’s not a friend, and that’s the benefit right there.
If this were someone my own age, or even a little older, it wouldn’t work. Not just because we know each other, but because he knows how to talk to people. His voice and demeanor are calming. If he wanted to he could probably get me to confess to any and every unsolved mystery in the history of New York right now.
When I’m talking to guys my own age they can’t wait to impress. Sometimes it almost works. I go home thinking, wow…that guy was pretty interesting.
With Sean it’s completely the opposite. The way he asks me questions makes me feel like I’m the most interesting person in the world. The crazy part is my experiences in life don’t even hold a candle to his.
I don’t know if it’s charm, charisma, or just comes naturally, but whatever he’s doing is working. I feel a magnetic pull, and I’m not the only one with directional thoughts at the moment.
My nipples are so hard they’re pointing his direction, as I’ve angled my body to face him as best as I can. And I caught a glimpse of his trousers and let’s just say his compass’ favorite position is due north. I can tell he’s struggling to contain his feelings, and it’s turning me on.
“That’s it,” he says.
“No more questions, your honor?” I joke.
“No more questions. The jury finds you innocent. You are free to go.”
I think of a snappy comeback, but I realize I don’t want to go. That’s the problem. He senses it and feels the same way.
“Unless you don’t want to.”
“Is there something else?” I ask.
“Well, I saw some tea and coffee in the other room. It’s been awhile, and today was not exactly the way old friends should talk to one another,” he says.
Old friends? I’m not sure what to make of that.
“Yeah. A glass of tea sounds good.”
“I’ll boil some water,” he says.
I look around the room imaging eighteen-year-old kids signing on the dotted line right here. Boys agreeing to become men in this very room…offering to risk their life for Corps and country. Then I remember it’s a Naval Recruiting substation and I imagine signing up to be at sea for four years. How can an eighteen year old make that decision?
“That was fast,” I say, as he’s already walking back in the room.
“They have one of those water boiler kettle things. Just plug it into the wall. Water is scorching in about twenty seconds.”
“Technology,” I say. “What will they think of next?”
“Good question. I’ve kind of been left behind by some of that stuff.” He takes a sip. “I guess those things just come naturally to your generation. You’ve been using them your whole life.”
“They do offer a lot of conveniences, but sometimes that convenience comes at a cost.”
“How so?”
“You can get everything right in your home. Whether it’s 157 channels round the clock, Chinese food at three in the morning, or even drone delivery in certain cases.”
“That’s allowed in New York?”
“Maybe not yet, but we’re getting closer. I think some businesses were getting away with it for awhile.”
“Makes my job even tougher.”
“And it makes being my age tougher too. It’s easier to meet people, but much harder to connect with them.”
“You’re a good-looking girl. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of guys beating down your door.”
I feel my skin blush at his compliment. I know he’s my dad’s bestie and he’ll always say nice things to me, but I can also tell his words are genuine and sincere. He wouldn’t tell me I’m good-looking if he didn’t think it himself.
“Thanks, but I don’t actually.”
“That’s surprising,” he says. He adjusts his position in his chair and I catch a slight grimace as he reaches for his thighs, sliding his pants down a little. They seem to be bunching up around the groin, and I can only imagine the pain he’s in.
“I must give off that ‘I’m too busy vibe’ or something.”
“Are you too busy?” His body leans in an inch closer to mine. He’s still a couple feet away, but I feel the distance closing.
“I guess we’re all busy these days, but for the right man anything’s possible.”
“The right man?”
I feel my panties start to moisten at our game of wordplay and I know we’re about to cross the Rubicon.
“I’m not really interested in boys, or anyone who doesn’t have their act together. I’m focused on my future, and if I’m going to include someone in it I want to make sure they’re focused on their future too…and mine.”
“Sounds like you’re searching for the perfect…man,” he says.
“I wouldn’t say searching,” I say.
“If you don’t have your eyes open you might not notice him when he comes. He might just fall right on your doorstep,” he says.
Nothing about his tone or expression has changed, and I love how he’s not being cheeky about this at all. He’s being very direct without being aggressive or off-putting. I’m attracted to his intelligence and banter just as much, if not more, than I am his perfectly sculpted body.
“If you’ve found what you’re looking for there’s no reason to continue searching…is there?”
“I definitely don’t see the point in that,” he says, as he slides in again. This time he’s come closer by an entire foot, leaving another foot between our faces. “But how do you know…for sure…that you’ve found what you’re looking for?”
A little moisture is about to turn into the Amazon rain forest if we keep this up, or even if we don’t. The closer he gets the harder it is to stay in this chair. The more he moves in, the more I want to move this conversation to the nearest bedroom…or desk, or up against the wall.
“Well, I am very confident in my choice, but,” I pause as his eyes narrow and his pupils dilate as they hang onto my words. “I guess there’s only one way to know for sure.”
“I guess you’re right,” he says, as he leans in until his face is within an inch from mine. I angle my neck and feel the goose bumps cover my skin from head to toe the moment his hand touches my face.
I feel his breath on my lips, and my heart rate accelerate and then when I can’t take it anymore I feel his lips gently meet mine, and the 21-gun salute that I missed out on yesterday explodes inside me.