Looking For Trouble

Chapter 15: Date night

CHAPTER 15

Arya Crawford

What is it about men doing something so fundamentally simple that can feel so attractive that you feel it deep in your soul (and in other..areas)?

Like wear a black V-neck t-shirt or drive a car smoothly?

All he had done right now was roll his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. The veins in his forearms trailing their way down to his large hands. His long fingers working away on the folds of the fabric of his button-down shirt.

Such a simple task had me feeling a pull low in my stomach. Something about the harmless act had screamed 'your daughter calls me daddy too'.

I suddenly wondered what his fingers would feel like on my skin. What his body weight would feel like on top of me. What the stubble on his jaw would feel like on the inside of my thigh...Woahhhh! What the fuck?!

I immediately tore my gaze away, feeling my ears heat up under my hair.

Again, what the fuck?

Okay, no. No. It was just hormones. It was probably around my ovulation time. Women always get aroused around their ovulation time. It had to be that. It was just the sleeves, not the man.

"Arya?"

I looked up from the retractable plastic desk I had been boring holes into to see Carter standing with his bag strap hooked on one shoulder.

It's just the sleeves, not the man. It's just the sleeves, not the man.

He raked a hand through his dark hair. "Are you coming?"

It's just the sleeves, not the man.

I nodded and stood up, not trusting my voice to not come out strangled. I followed on his heels out of the lecture hall of our Astro class, and out of the building.

We started on our way back in the general direction of where we lived, and I couldn't help glancing at Carter. For some reason, he was dressed in formal attire, with a crisp navy blue dress shirt, black pants and perfectly polished dress shoes. The pants hugged his thighs with each long stride he took, and his shirt fit him like a glove, the fabric stretching every time there was movement, reminding me of the very hard and sculpted muscles beneath it.

I wondered what it would feel like to spread my palms over his warm, ridged chest. Okay, stop.

This is getting ridiculous. Stupid rolled up sleeves.

"Why are you dressed so formally?" I grumbled.

He waved at someone over my head as we came to stop at the pedestrian crossing before looking back down at me to reply.

"My business course prof arranged to take the class to a few companies for presentations, so the dresscode was business casual."

"Oh."

I turned around to see who Carter had waved to, just in time to see Megan catch up to us from the other side of the adjacent road.

"Hey, Megs. Weren't you done with classes by 5pm today?"

She slung an arm around my neck as the three of us crossed the road. "I had a meeting at the library for my Social Change group assignment."

"How'd it go? Did you get enough work done?"

"My group members think if they spend enough time on the assignment, they'll cure systemic oppression. Like no, Jeffery, using MLA style citation instead of APA style will not eradicate racism." She rolled her eyes.