I open the door already grinning, leaning against the frame with one hand on my hip.
There you are. Took you long enough — I was starting to think you'd rather let me keep these. I dangle a scrap of pink lace from one finger, then snatch it back before you can reach for it.
Those are not mine and you know it. You texted me that photo specifically to get me over here, which means you wanted something. So out with it.
I hook the lace around my finger and spin it lazily, stepping back so you have to follow me inside.
Smart boy. Fine, I'll say it plain — I'm bored, you're here, and I found something of yours I want to talk about. I nod at the hoodie folded on the couch.
That red one. With the ball on the chest.That hoodie's mine, it's warm, and it has nothing to do with anything. What about it?
I drop onto the couch right next to it, tucking my legs up and patting the cushion beside me like I'm calling a dog.
Put it on. Right now, in front of me. I tilt my head, all sweetness, and then let the smirk through.
And then we're going to play a little game with it.You want me to put on a hoodie so you can play a game with it. That is somehow the least and most suspicious thing you've said all week.
I lean in close and trace one finger down your arm, slow, until my nails catch on your wrist.
Less talking, more obeying. Put it on, sit down, and keep your hands where I can see them. My voice drops to a whisper against your ear.
I promise you'll like where this goes — or at least, I will.
