The Bucketlist

48| SECONDS

It has been raining cats and dogs since afternoon. I had been stalling at Will's house longer than I expected. Probably because we haven't 'talked' about everything yet... Will had holed up in his bedroom since our rendezvous in the morning, and I couldn't bring myself to go and talk to him. So I was sitting in his living room, sprawled on his couch on a rainy Saturday, watching 'Two Broke Girls'- between-the-scenes on the screen. The alarm rang at 2 pm, and I realized I had to get the cookies out of the oven.

I was baking cookies for Will. Why? Okay, not lying, but I wanted to apologize to him for not being fuckable enough. I had thought of how exactly I was to do it- slip in a note with a cookie saying: 'Thank you'. That's it.

I pulled the tray out to see a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies. They would do for now. I picked one of them, blew on it, and took a bite- too sweet, chocolate chip loaded, and that was pretty cookie-ish. 

I tiptoed into his home office, the corner room adjacent to the living room, and got a sheet.

'Dear Will,

Thank you for letting me stay at your place, not making me work this weekend, and looking after me.

Yours,

Eva:-)'

P.S. I am sorry for not being fuckable.

I decided against the P.S statement and folded the sheet.

As I set the cookies together for Will, I heard something stir behind me. Will stood half naked, wearing only a pair of track pants.

"What are you wearing?" He raised an eyebrow, and I became too conscious of my attire.

I wore a baby pink camisole tank top and denim shorts that showed off my legs! I am not one of those models with perfect, waxed, shiny legs with calves people would kill for having. I had what they called thunder thighs. All that sugar had to go somewhere, and what better place than a girl's thighs?

"Why, what's wrong? Didn't you say I was allowed to wear whatever I wanted?" I asked, putting my hands on my hip, and his Adam's apple quaked.

Will inched closer to me, stopping a few centimeters away, and I blinked my eyes to see whether I wasn't imaging his abs, and they were there. Toned, six-packed, and staring back at me. Was I drooling? Fuck.

"What do you have here?" He asked and took the note from me.

"Hey, give it back," I complained, and he raised his arm above my head, so I was tiptoeing to reach him.

"Sorry, shorty. I am going to read this." He mocked and fiddled with the note in his hand.

"Give it back to me!" I said, struggling to reach out to his hand. Why the hell was he so tall? Every time we kissed, he had to lean down. Ugh, it was getting pretty frustrating.

I lost my arm and fell on him. He lost his balance, coming down; as I took him by surprise. We landed with a thud on the kitchen floor.

"Oh, God! You're the death of me, Eva." He said, and I struggled to get the note out of his hand.

"Give me the damn paper, Turner," I said, getting a grip of his hand.

Surprisingly, he didn't move, and I took the paper from his hand.

"Next time you get your hands on my things, I am going to shove it up your-" I glared at him, but his eyes focused on someplace else. Will Turner staring at my boobs? No, no. Look at better things, not my asymmetrical boobs!

Suddenly, I was aware of our bodies being so close as I lay on top of him on the kitchen floor. I straightened myself, taking my hands aside, and positioned myself above him. My pelvic girdle was too close to his rising manhood, stiff under me. You've got to be kidding me!