Uncle Jay Ch. 02

Author's Note: This is a slow burn story. The first two chapters are setting the stage, and the next chapters will really turn the heat up. Thanks for reading~

I've been a good girl my whole life. I rarely fought with my parents; I always loved and respected them, and never wanted them to mistrust me, so why wouldn't I agree to their rules and curfews? They weren't unreasonable. I never wanted to be the troublemaker or the rebel. I knew those kids from school: the bratty out-of-control types, the ones that laughed about lying to their parents, the ones that didn't care what sort of reputation they had. And I never wanted any part of that lifestyle.

But since arriving at Uncle Jay's, something within me has changed. I want to be contrary just to see what he does. I want to say bratty things to see how he reacts. And I want to be devious to get his attention, to see how he'll handle my behavior. These feelings are new to me, but I am committed to embracing them to the fullest. And if I didn't submit to them, I fear they would suffocate me or drive me crazy.

I thought I'd be prepared for romance, or at the very least, feelings of attraction. I read romance novels like nobody's business. I devour those stories, from the tropey romantic comedies, to the dark and debaucherous tales. Granted, a majority of them have a predictable plot; it's a romance novel, it's going to end with people experiencing a romantic relationship. But reading about all the ways they get to that point, that's something I'm still such a sucker for. But everything always seems so neat and contained and adorable in a romance novel; I don't understand why everything is so messy in my reality.

I've been at Uncle Jay's house for almost a week. I have my own routine, he has his own routine, and we have our routine together.

Some mornings, I wake up early and read or play games on my phone or write until it's time to go downstairs; other mornings, I crawl out of bed and just barely manage to brush my hair and teeth before heading downstairs. But we have breakfast together every morning. Nothing fancy, maybe one of us will cook some scrambled eggs and toast, or we'll stick to cereal and juice, or Uncle Jay will grab some frozen breakfast pizzas from the freezer. And coffee, he always needs his morning coffee.

Then, I'm on my own until the evening. Uncle Jay will sometimes work in his home office, other days he'll leave and go to wherever he works for the day. Meanwhile, I've been reading, napping, organizing and re-organizing my room and closet, writing old-school handwritten letters to my friends, or journaling away. Keeping myself occupied as best I can.

If he goes away for work, Uncle Jay will bring home takeout for supper. If not, we'll put in a delivery order together. After eating at the dining room table, making small talk and trading lame jokes and puns, we'll crash in the family room and watch movies or sports. Uncle Jay has an impressive DVD collection, and several streaming subscriptions so the options feel limitless.

And some nights he'll sit first, and I'll feel ever-so-daring and sit next to him, just like that first night, thigh-to-thigh. Other nights, I'll be first to sit, and wait in nervous anticipation for him to grab the popcorn and soda and sit right next to me. But we end up so close together - yet never discussing it - each night.

The last few nights have been disappointments; we merely sat side-by-side, but Uncle Jay didn't do anything more than that. Instead of focusing on the screen, I sat for hours desiring his arm across my shoulder, or his hand upon my knee, or - Gods forbid anything further - him looking into my eyes. But then he'd ask me about my parents - he'd ask pointedly, every night - and I'd be snapped back to reality. And the reality is that he's now my parental-figure, and any affection he has for me is strictly in the caretaker-charge sense.

But tonight, I'm restless. I feel I need some excitement to happen in my life, and I want it to involve Uncle Jay. Blame proximity, blame boredom, blame the particularly spicy romance novel I'm currently in the middle of...

We just finished dinner, and I'm helping to take care of the dishes. There's a big game on tonight that we discussed watching; Uncle Jay is fixing the popcorn and preparing his drink. I hesitate for only a second before blurting out, "Can I have some of that?"

"It's rum," he says without looking up from his measurements.

"I-I know. Am I allowed a little bit?" I ask, losing my boldness.

Uncle Jay pauses his pouring and looks up at me. I can't read his expression, and I feel the urge to fidget under his gaze.

"Okay, Lita, but I promise you, you'll hate it," he says with his brows lifted.

We get the kitchen tidied up, carry our snacks and drinks to the family room, and get settled in for the game. We're side-by-side in the middle of the couch, our provisions on the coffee table before us, and the lights all dimmed except for the bright glare of the TV screen.

Uncle Jay leans up and grips his cocktail in one hand, and grabs my glass of straight, neat rum in the other. "Have a sip, Lita. Tell me what you think of it."

My stomach clenches as I realize I'm going to have my first drink of liquor, and under Uncle Jay's gaze.

I give the liquid a sniff and try not to react, but I fear my face gives something away, judging by Uncle Jay's rumbling chuckle.

I hold the glass to my lips, send a fleeting prayer to the gods, and toss my head back.

When I finish swallowing and open my eyes, Uncle Jay is smiling and shaking his head at me. "I didn't expect you to down it all in one go, Little Lita," he says.

I smile through the lingering burn in my throat. "If I stopped, I would never have started drinking again," I mutter.

Uncle Jay laughs again, takes a sip of his own drink, and puts both of our glasses back on the coffee table. He silently offers me some popcorn, but I decline, feeling a buzz starting to take root in my veins.

When Jay leans back into his seat, getting comfortable on the couch, I sidle ever so closer to him, channeling my inner, daring female love interest energy.

"Lita..." he warns, but I cut him off when I lurch forward and smash my mouth against his. He immediately grabs the hair at the back of my head and presses his chest against mine.

I'm lost in the sensation of our lips against each other, his scent, his hand gripping my hair, his other hand wrapped around my thigh. When suddenly, he jerks away, swearing.

"By the gods, Lita. You -" he closes his eyes and shakes his head. He takes a deep breath before opening his eyes, saying, "You are such a lightweight." He sighs, a bit dramatically in my opinion. "I am the one to blame for this."

I feel my face warm with shame? Embarrassment? "The alcohol didn't make me do that, I...I've wanted to do that all day," I mumble, head down so he can't see how red my cheeks must be.

A strong female protagonist would not be crumbling this way, but I feel my audacity fading quickly.

Uncle Jay sighs again, and rubs his face with his hands. He settles and looks at me. "Surely, I must be one of the first guys in your life to give you some attention. Don't be ashamed, these feelings are natural. People like attention, it's understandable that you're craving it and wanting to keep it going. It's okay, Lita, we'll figure this out."

I can't read his facial expression, but I'd say he almost looks bored with me. So much for the passion we exchanged just moments ago.

Humiliated and humbled, I nod my head weakly, and grab for the popcorn bowl. I inch away, and curl myself on the opposite end of the couch as Uncle Jay. I stammer out something about just wanting to watch the game. He watches me for a moment before agreeing, and turns his attention on the screen as well.