He thinks he might die on the spot with the way she sucks in a breath like he's just kicked her new little puppy. He doesn't recognize the pert rise of it straining for more attention through her bikini top, doesn't attribute the streak of red across her features as anything other than the same embarrassment echoing through him like a fever he might not recover from. That she covers herself, as if her top has fallen instead of been brushed, is the icing on top for him. He tugs on the back of his neck nervously, glancing away in shame.
He expects she'd yell and fling accusations. He figures she'd depart, doing her best to stalk out of a hot tub (not the most graceful scene), or perhaps demand he be the one to leave (and he would) so she could enjoy her warm waters without the risk of harassment, accidental or not. So he's surprised when instead she gathers herself, the way even a rabbit will stand down with a hawk, and comes in closer. He glances back at her, wary as she begins to speak because he's got entirely no idea what she's about to do next. Tap his balls, maybe? Subconsciously one hand moves to shield them beneath the water.
Instead she swings and connects with his arm, hitting harder than he expects her to be able to, or maybe half of it's the shock, but he reels a bit in the water as splashes strike up like cannon fire and he leans against the edge like a shipwrecked crewmember. "Ow!" he cries out, more stunned than actually in pain. His ball shield abandons its post to rub at the impending bruise forming on his arm. "I mean, I deserve it," he admits with a shake of his head. "But dang, you can pack a punch Elizabeth." He'll be sure to stay on her good side moving forward.
He expects she'd yell and fling accusations. He figures she'd depart, doing her best to stalk out of a hot tub (not the most graceful scene), or perhaps demand he be the one to leave (and he would) so she could enjoy her warm waters without the risk of harassment, accidental or not. So he's surprised when instead she gathers herself, the way even a rabbit will stand down with a hawk, and comes in closer. He glances back at her, wary as she begins to speak because he's got entirely no idea what she's about to do next. Tap his balls, maybe? Subconsciously one hand moves to shield them beneath the water.
Instead she swings and connects with his arm, hitting harder than he expects her to be able to, or maybe half of it's the shock, but he reels a bit in the water as splashes strike up like cannon fire and he leans against the edge like a shipwrecked crewmember. "Ow!" he cries out, more stunned than actually in pain. His ball shield abandons its post to rub at the impending bruise forming on his arm. "I mean, I deserve it," he admits with a shake of his head. "But dang, you can pack a punch Elizabeth." He'll be sure to stay on her good side moving forward.
Iskra
