The Woman in 3B - Eliza Lentzski Page 0,58
was exclusively attracted to girls.”
Well—that answered my next intrusive question.
“What about you?” she asked.
“I was a late bloomer. I didn’t realize I was gay until I got to college.” I chuckled at the realization. “I guess accumulating all of that student debt wasn’t for nothing.”
She propped herself up and leaned her weight on one elbow. “You really think you wouldn’t have figured it out without having gone to college?”
I shrugged beneath the weight of her blankets. “I grew up in a pretty small, conservative town. No one told me that being gay was an option. College made me realize there was a world beyond my little hometown.”
She squinted as she looked at me. “You’re telling me you never had a crush on one of your girl friends in high school or pined over some Hollywood starlet from the safety of a dark movie theater?”
“Looking back, it should have been obvious,” I agreed. “But hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that. I thought every girl had those kinds of thoughts.”
“You thought every girl wanted to go down on Kate Winslet in Titanic?” Anissa laughed, but not unkindly.
I could feel myself blush at the suggestion. “I didn’t have those kinds of thoughts. I was raised super religious. Good Catholic girls weren’t supposed to think about sex until after they got married.”
“Bullshit. You thought about sex.”
“I swear I didn’t!” My voice raised an octave as I tried to defend myself. “I admired other girls, but I didn’t think about having sex with them.”
“Geez, you’re like a nun.”
“Whatever. You were the one calling out to God last night, not me,” I shot back.
“I was only teasing, Alice.” Her generous mouth flipped into a frown. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”
I didn’t want to be so thin-skinned, but my naivety could be embarrassing. I envied people who had been able to give a name to their sexuality earlier in life.
“When we were stranded in Philadelphia, did you know I was gay?” I asked.
“I had my suspicions,” she confirmed. “You were very chivalrous. And not just the pajama thing. Queer girls tend to hold doors.”
“You didn’t chalk it up to good customer service?”
“You went a little above and beyond—kind of like you bringing my iPad all the way out here.”
“Dearborn’s not so far away,” I grumbled, turning away.
Anissa refused to let me retreat. She captured the end of my chin between her thumb and forefinger and turned my face toward her own.
“I think you’re very sweet, Alice.” She lightly pressed her lips against my stubborn mouth. “And genuine.” Her mouth traveled across the sweep of my cheek. “And kind.” She pressed another kiss at the apex of my cheekbone. “And very sexy.” Her warm breath ruffled the hair near my temple.
“Sexy?”
I’d heard words like pretty or cute to describe me, but never sexy. Pleasant. Pleasing. Could fit into small spaces.
I tried to protest the descriptor. “I’m-I’m not the one. Y-y-you.”
Anissa flicked the tip of her tongue along the outer shell of my ear. It was hard to formulate thoughts and even harder to finish a complete sentence with her ragged breath in my ear.
She gripped me hard at my hipbones and pressed the length of her body against me. “You’re sexy, Alice.”
She ran her hands around my hips and to my backside. “Tight little body.”
“We have to watch our weight at work.”
“Smooth, delicious tasting skin.” She licked up the side of my neck in one, long dramatic drag of her tongue.
“I-I used the soap in your bathroom,” I sputtered.
She buried her face into my hair and inhaled. “Silky, soft hair.”
“It’s your conditioner.”
Her face remained pressed against the side of my head. I couldn’t see her face, but I could feel her body shake with what I interpreted as silent laughter.
“Shut up and accept the compliments, Alice.”
“Okay,” I breathed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was still dark outside when the alarm on my cellphone chimed. I’d set the alarm for an early hour knowing I’d need time to drive back to my apartment and get ready for the day before going to the airport. I probably should have spent the previous night at my apartment, but I hadn’t wanted to leave. Losing a few hours of sleep seemed like a small sacrifice in exchange for another night with Anissa.
I turned off the alarm and buried my face into a pillow. “Don’t wanna,” I mumbled.
I felt Anissa reach for me across the expanse of the mattress. Her hand slipped under my t-shirt and curled around the elastic waistband of the borrowed shorts I