Have Dinner With Me

Monroe

Nine Years Ago

“So? I’m freaking out! Can you tell me already!” I nearly shout as Miles walks through the door to the small conference room we have booked for his tutoring sessions. He closes it behind him and his eyes are downcast and his expression is solemn. My heart plummets to my feet and it breaks for him.

“I’m so sorry, Miles. I don’t understand. What happened? You were so confident and I practice tested you like three times...” I trail off and he shakes his head as he pulls a packet out of his backpack.

“I mean... I don’t know. I guess I just feel bad because Armstrong won’t get any playing time for the rest of the season.” His face erupts into a heart stopping grin and he shows me his algebra exam with a big fat ‘97’ at the top in red marker. It’s his third A on an exam, in a row.

“You asshole! I nearly had a heart attack thinking you failed this test!” I exhale in relief and punch him in the arm.

He laughs and before I can say anything else he wraps his arms around me pulls me in for a tight bear hug and plants a kiss on my cheek. My heart races at the feel of his arms around me and I’m so dizzy I nearly pass out. However, he releases me before that can happen.

I can feel my face heat up and it doesn’t help that I still feel his lips on my skin. He’s grinning so wide his happiness is infectious and I return his smile. My stomach flutters at how gorgeous he is. He has dark hair like mine and bright blue eyes that make me feel warm all over when they meet my own. For a nineteen year old, he looks more like a man than a boy. He stands tall at six-foot-five and he’s all muscle. He’s the typical build for a tight end and while I love football like it’s its own religion, I have never been so insanely attracted to a player. Until now.

I’ve been tutoring him for a little over a month now and he’s been able to completely turn his math grade around. He’s received As on every exam since I began working with him and the scores only get higher every time. He’s done so well that he was able to raise his overall grade from a fifty seven percent in the class to an eighty one percent, and with the conference championships around the corner, this news couldn’t have come at a better time.

“Let me buy you dinner,” he says and I don’t think I hear him correctly at first.

“Um. Dinner?”

He nods and then shrugs. “It’s the least I can do. You may have just single handedly saved my football career.”

I roll my eyes and giggle. “Did you hurt your arm with that reach?”

“It’s not a reach. I would’ve lost my scholarship if I didn’t get my grade up,” he explains.

“Oh, well in that case, I better get a shout out when you get drafted.” He grins from ear to ear and Jesus Christ I have to look away. At sixteen, my hormones are all over the place. That night after meeting Miles Aaron, I had a very ‘not-suitable-for-work’ dream about him and my orgasm was so powerful, it woke me up immediately and I nearly fell off the side of my bed in surprise.

My roommate Lila saw the entire thing and I hid from her for five days straight after she told me that I’d been moaning so loud in my sleep, I woke her up.

Since then, it’s become a nightly thing and it is pure torture. Right at this moment, however, my panties are soaking wet and there’s literally nothing I can do about it. I just have to endure the torturous ache between my legs.

“So, dinner? Tonight?” he asks me, interrupting my thoughts.

“Sure,” I manage to squeak out.

“Alright, I’ll pick you up in...two hours,” he says, flashing me another panty dropping smile before leaving the conference room.

I’m left there panting and blushing.

And horny as all hell... This is a disaster.

“I can’t believe you’re going on a date with Miles Aaron! Like hot, tall, football player, Miles Aaron!” Lila stares at me, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

“Would you stop calling it a date? It’s a pity, thank-you dinner for his lame tutor,” I mutter, raking a brush through my hair.

“You are so dense! Guys like that don’t just ask girls to dinner for no reason. Especially when they can get any girl they want in the whole school!” She shrieks. I roll my eyes. The last thing I need is to believe this is any kind of date and humiliate myself.

“It isn’t for no reason though. I told you, I helped him raise his grade in math and he feels obligated to show some form of appreciation.”

She huffs and walks over to me. Before I can run the brush through my hair, she pulls it out of my hand.

“You’re going to sit here and tell me you’re not the least bit excited to be going to dinner with him?” She raises her eyebrow at me.

“Of course, I am. I’m not dead inside.”

She breaks out into a wide grin. “Then pity dinner or not, you’re going to look hot for it. Just in case you’re wrong.”

I swallow hard and panic starts to set in. Shit. I never should have said anything.

“Lila. I-I’m not you. I can’t be hot. I’ve never been hot in my life.”

It’s true. I am the total opposite of Lila. My nineteen-year-old roommate is drop dead sexy. She’s five-foot-six with golden brown hair and dark lowlights. She has tan legs that go on for days and a killer body, toned from being a Barding University softball pitcher. Her boyfriend is a senior and one of the starting forwards on the basketball team. She’s literally perfect in every way and our only similarity is probably our olive-tan skin tone since we’re both of Italian descent. Lila is a ten all the way. I would even argue for eleven. She’s that hot. Me however? I am a solid six and a half on my very best day.

“You will be after I’m done with you Marsailles.” I groan as she claps her hands and smiles mischievously.

She sets my hair brush down and I watch in horror as she begins pulling hair styling irons in different shapes and sizes out of a plastic bin underneath her bed. She motions for me to sit in her chair and my stomach churns nervously as she begins to spray something into it.

It takes nearly forty five minutes for Lila to finish her hair and makeup job on me and when she does, I’m honestly terrified. I watch her clap invisible dust from her hands and wipe them on the front of her yoga pants. She reaches for a mirror and holds it up for me but I’m blind as a bat without my glasses.

I reach for them but she shakes her head and takes them. “Where are your emergency contacts?”

I cringe. “I hate those. I only wear them on Thursdays for chem lab because I have to wear goggles.”

“I don’t care. Put them in or you’re going to be bumping into things all night. It should be a crime to hide eyes like yours. I would kill for your eyes...Like commit actual murder.”

I groan. I know Lila means well but she is really starting to annoy me. Nonetheless, I walk over to my desk where I keep my contact case. After, I put them in I tilt my head back so I don’t ruin my makeup. I’ve had contacts since my senior year of high school, but I still tear up every time I put them in.

When I look over at Lila she’s digging through her closet, tossing things onto her bed.

“What are you doing?” I ask, fidgeting with my hands.

“Looking for something for you to wear. No offense, but you either dress like you grew up in a convent or like you’re five. Just because you are young doesn’t mean you have to look young. And don’t look in the mirror yet!”

I ignore her dig and pout. I’m growing more impatient with Lila by the second. I glance at my watch and it tells me I have fifteen minutes until Miles gets here.

“Ah ha! Try these on,” she calls out, tossing something plaid and something black at me. As I unfold the clothes, I realize that it’s a plaid, spaghetti strap mini dress and a thin black turtle neck. With only ten minutes left, I have no more time to argue and rush to pull the clothes on over my body.

When the dress is on I notice that it’s short. Really short. And tight. And it has a small slit up the front. I swallow hard. My legs feel so exposed and I exhale hoping it doesn’t pop at the seams, but I’m grateful that at least the turtle neck covers me up.

“What size shoe are you?” Lila calls out to me, still digging through her closet.

“Um. Six.” I answer, hoping to god whatever she pulls out of that closet isn’t a stiletto heel.

She sighs. “I’m an eight. Nothing I have will fit you...Oh! Wear your black converse.”

I breathe a sigh of relief that we’re not the same shoe size considering all of hers tend to be mostly heeled in the six-inch-tall variety. The thought of trying to walk in those make me shudder.

After I’ve slipped on my shoes, she looks me up and down and places a hand over her heart.

“Damn Marsailles. Even I would fuck you,” she says and winks at me. I feel my blush creep over my cheeks and Lila laughs. I check my watch again and my heart races as I realize that I only have five minutes until Miles is here.

Lila shifts so that she’s behind me and pushes me toward the full size mirror on the back of our door.

I’m afraid to look. But then I do, and I gasp. Lila shakes her head and breaks out into a wide grin.

“BT dubs...The legal age of consent is sixteen in the state of Georgia.”