Chapter 222: Chapter 222

I reached forward. Penelope slid her hand onto the red beside mine, leaning close. The faint floral scent of whatever cheap perfume she used hit me.

“Left foot, yellow.”

We shifted. She bent over, placing her foot on a farthest yellow circle. And that was when I realized her shirt was loose. And thin. And there were her nipples, poking through the fabric like sharp little reminders that I was absolutely not supposed to be staring.

I swallowed.

Penelope noticed.

“Right foot, green!” Mendy called.

I stretched over her leg, practically half-draped across her back. She bent lower, her hair falling forward. The mat crinkled beneath us.

“Left hand, blue!”

“Oh, come on,” I muttered, reaching awkwardly across her. My arm slid right beside her ribs and my face ended up inches from her cleavage. The thin shirt dipped forward, giving me a perfect downward view.

She shifted her weight and her chest pressed against my upper arm.

I nearly lost my balance.

Kayla snorted wine out of her nose. “Oh my god…”

Penelope didn’t move away. If anything, she held her position deliberately still, like she knew exactly what was brushing my arm. The mat under her hands stretched tight, pushing the outline of her breasts against the fabric.

My gaze dropped for half a heartbeat, stupid reflex.

She caught it again.

“You are hopeless,” she said quietly. “Pervert.”

“Left foot, red!” Mendy called.

Penelope twisted smoothly like she practiced yoga every morning. I tried matching her movement and instantly regretted everything. My leg slipped between hers in a very compromising angle.

“Careful,” she said. “If you fall on me, I swear—”

“Trust me, I am trying,” I whispered.

My face was practically next to her hip. Her perfume. Her breathing. Her everything. This game was a trap.

“Right hand, green!” Mendy announced.

I lunged. Penelope lunged. Our arms crossed, and I ended up half-supported on her back. My chest brushed her shoulder blades.

Kayla covered her eyes. “This is obscene.”

“Hey!” Mendy said. “This is a family-friendly game!”

“No,” Kayla replied. “Not the way these two are doing it.”

Penelope gave a single laugh, short but real. “Evan is the one shaking like a chihuahua.”

“I am trying not to suffocate you.”

“Then move your face away from my neck.”

I did. Barely.

“Left hand, yellow!” Mendy sang.

Penelope went first. I followed, but my hand slipped the tiniest bit. My balance tilted. My weight shifted.

“Ah, shit—”

I fell. Straight onto her.

We collapsed in a heap as the mat slid under us. Penelope groaned loudly as I accidentally landed half on her thigh, half on her stomach.

Kayla rolled on the couch laughing. Mendy covered her mouth, eyes wide.

Penelope tried pushing me off. “Get off, get off, get off!”

“Sorry!” I scrambled backward, hands slipping on the plastic.

“Winner!” Mendy declared. “Penelope!”

Penelope dusted off her shirt, adjusting her bra-less top in a way that absolutely drew more attention to it.

“Of course I won,” she said. “I have balance. And dignity. Unlike you.”

Kayla wiped a tear from her eye. “We need to play this again.”

“No,” I said. “Absolutely not.”

Mendy clapped her hands. “Come on! That was fun! Round two!”

I groaned. “My spine is in six different timelines.”

Penelope smirked. “Good. This means I can beat you again. And plus, it’s now Mendy’s turn.”

Mendy set the wheel again, humming as she sat cross-legged on the floor. “I think I’m gonna pass. Don’t wanna break my neck and die.”

The snow outside kept falling. The room felt warm, alive. The wine glasses on the table were half empty, their reflections glowing soft in the light.

❤︎‬‪‪❤︎‬‪‪❤︎

It was already close to eleven, and the energy in the room had finally died down. All four of us had migrated back onto the couches after the chaotic Twister match, half-sprawled like survivors of some disaster. Mendy was leaning back against the armrest, her hair messy, cheeks flushed from laughing. Kayla lay sideways on the couch with a pillow under her head. Penelope sat in the single chair with her legs crossed, lazily swirling what little wine was left in her glass. I was half sunk into the other couch, staring at the ceiling like it might give me answers to life.

Yeah. We were done.

I clapped my hands sharply. “Alright. Fun’s over. I should go before I pass out on this couch. I have work tomorrow.”

Penelope lifted her head. “Oh. Can you drop me off too?”

“Sure.” I looked at Kayla. “You coming?”

Kayla waved a hand. “Nah. Girl’s night. My friend is coming over. She’ll be here in like thirty minutes then I’m off as well.”

I nodded and stood up. My legs cracked loud enough for everyone to hear. “Jesus… Twister is a sport.”

Mendy got up too. “Thank you guys. Really. It was fun.”

“No, thank you,” I said. “Seriously, that banger of a burger was a masterpiece. We should do this more often.”

Her cheeks tinted red. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Her smile lingered a little too long. And I remembered what Penelope told me earlier. About how Mendy kept talking about me. About how she might actually like me. I looked at her shy smile now… and yeah. It wasn’t a stretch at all.

She really might be into me.

But I shook the thought away before I tripped over it. Later. That was a later problem.

“Anyway,” I said. “Thanks again, Mendy.”

Penelope let out a long stretch, placing her hands behind her head. “Alright, come here,” she said as she stood up. “Hug time.”

Mendy laughed nervously but stepped into Penelope’s arms. Penelope squeezed her like she was juicing a lemon. Mendy let out a little squeak.

“P-Pen… you are crushing me.”

Everyone laughed. Penelope finally let her go, patting her shoulder.

Kayla got up too and hugged Mendy, soft and warm. Then let her go.

I cleared my throat. My turn.

Mendy opened her arms, shy and hesitant, and I stepped forward, giving her a short but warm hug. She smelled like vanilla and something sweet. She held on for a second longer than I expected, then stepped back, smiling at the floor.

“Take care, Evan,” she said.

“You too.”

We said our goodbyes again, then I headed to the corridor, grabbing my jacket from the coat rack. Mendy waved from the doorway until we both stepped off the small porch and into the cold suburban night.

The street was quiet. Snowflakes drifted down slowly. The streetlights cast soft halos on the ground. The whole neighborhood looked gentle and asleep.

We walked to the car, our breath fogging in the air. Penelope wrapped her arms around herself.

“You are freezing,” I said.

“No shit. I dressed like an idiot.” She slid into the passenger seat.

I got in on my side, shut the door, and turned the engine. The heater started pushing warm air, though it would take a second to fully kick in.

Penelope rubbed her arms rapidly. “Brrr. So fucking cold. I can’t even feel my nipples.”

“You could’ve worn a jacket.”

She glared at me. “You think I didn’t plan on wearing one? I forgot it at home. And don’t start with the lecture. Just warm me.”

The heat slowly started filling the car. Penelope leaned forward, stretching her hands toward the vents like she was worshipping a tiny god.

I eased the car out of the spot and glanced at her. “You warm yet?”

“No,” she muttered. “Hurry up and drive. The faster the heater hits me, the better.”

I chuckled, backed onto the road, and began driving through the quiet, snowy street. Penelope leaned back in her seat, eyes half-lidded, letting the warm air finally reach her.

“Mm. There we go,” she said softly. “Still freezing… but getting there.”

Outside, everything was calm. Fewer neon signs. Shorter apartment buildings. A lot more darkness. The soft kind. The peaceful kind.

Inside the car, it smelled faintly of wine, melted snow, and Penelope’s perfume.

And the night felt slow. And strange. And maybe a little comforting.

The heater humming softly filled the car with warm, comfortable air. Penelope let out a low groan of relief and stretched her legs toward the floor vents.

“Mmm… finally warm,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” I said, eyes on the road. “Told you to dress for winter.”

“Shut up.” But she smiled.

The streets were almost empty now, the snow falling slow and steady. The kind of quiet where every thought in your head felt louder.

After a minute of silence, Penelope spoke.

“Tonight was good.”

“Yeah. Mendy needed it.”

“She did.” Penelope glanced at me. “So. About her.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“You know.” She pointed at me lazily. “Do you like her?”

“I told you. She’s a friend,” I said. “I care about her, but that’s it.”

“Right.” She leaned back. “I kinda figured. You don’t really go for girls like Mendy.”

I glanced at her. “Okay. And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Sweet. Soft. Innocent.” She waved her hand. “Guys like you don’t fall for that.”

“I don’t have a type.”

She laughed under her breath. “Bullshit.”

“Explain.”

“You like girls who push back,” she said. “Who bite harder. Girls who walk in and take what they want.”

She shrugged. “Not the soft type. Not the fragile type.”

“That’s a big assumption.”

“It’s an accurate one.”

As she said that, she shifted in her seat. A slow motion, casual but definitely intentional, making her shirt lift enough to reveal her stomach. Smooth skin, warm from the car heater. My eyes flicked down before I could stop myself.

And my dick responded instantly. She didn’t miss that. Not even for a second. Her gaze dropped, slow as hell, to my lap. Her lips parted in a soft, amused “oh.”

“Well,” she said. “Look at that.”

“Keep your eyes up,” I muttered.

“I would,” she said, her voice lower, “if you stopped giving me things to look at.”

I gripped the steering wheel harder, grounding myself. She shifted again, crossing her arms under her breasts, pushing them together. Her nipples were poking through the thin fabric, hard from the cold she walked in with.

Heat stirred inside me. Pressure tightening between my legs. Her eyes drifted there again.

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed. “Not flustered, huh?”

“I’m not flustered.”

“No,” she agreed. “You’re horny.”

I didn’t answer.

She didn’t need me to.

Penelope leaned back against the seat, smirking like she had just discovered a cheat code.

“You know,” she said, her tone playful and taunting, “guys don’t get that hard for ’just friends.’”

“Drop it.”

“No.”

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