Offside - Page 110

“I have to pee!”

With a big, overly dramatic sigh, I released her, and she ran off to the bathroom. When she was done, I took my turn and then pulled her back into bed with me. We lay in bed while half asleep before hunger finally drove us from the blankets.

We ate and then decided we really ought to get some work done on our biology project. After a lot of debate and orgasm jokes, we decided to do our research on the creosote bush. I made about a dozen “bush” jokes, but Nicole said the plant reminded her of visiting her grandparents in Arizona, so that's what we were going to study. At first, we tried pulling up information on her computer, but the damn thing was ancient, took forever to load, and the dial-up connection was driving me fucking bonkers.

“We should just do this at my place,” I mumbled.

“Okay,” Nicole said to my surprise. “I've never seen your house.”

I tensed up a bit. I'd never taken anyone to my house. Even the guys on my team had only been on the outside of it. Just the thought of it put me on edge immediately though I wasn't sure why. I didn't have a valid reason to say no, so the next thing I knew, we were in my car and heading to my house.

Even the front door seemed ominous to me as we walked up the steps.

“This house is incredible,” Nicole exclaimed as I fished out my key.

“It's okay,” I replied. I opened the door, and we walked in.

“Do I get a tour?” Nicole asked.

Was I supposed to give tours?

“Um…okay,” I said. I ran my hand through my hair. “This is the kitchen—you know, where we eat and shit.”

“You shit in the kitchen? That's not very hygienic!”

“That's not what I meant!” I laughed along with her. “This is the, um…living room, I guess. Or great room—whatever you are supposed to call it.”

“Who plays?” she asked, and I froze.

She was gesturing at the piano.

“Um…no one,” I replied, and I tried to steer her off toward the stairs.

“You have a grand piano that no one plays?” she asked. She held on to my hand but kept her feet planted. Her voice lowered. “Did your mom play?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Um…she taught piano.”

“Did you learn?”

“Yeah.”

“But you don't play anymore?”

“No.” I could feel a tiny droplet of sweat at the back of my neck.

“Why not?” she asked quietly.

I looked at her eyes, and she reached up to touch my face.

“Too many memories?”

I just nodded.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

I gave her a tight-lipped smile and then led her down the hall and up the stairs, pointing out the various guest rooms that no one used, the bathroom, and Dad's study.

“Is that where the computer is?” she asked as she looked at the closed door.

Tags: Shay Savage
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