Evan greeted him as the front door swung open. “Hey, man, come on in," as Barty stepped inside your house with confidence.
You smoothed your skirt nervously as he made his way towards the dining table. You had known him for years - he was Evan’s best friend and had always been part of your family’s life - but lately, things felt different. He was openly flirting with you, with those lingering looks and half-smiles that made your skin prickle.
And Evan? He didn’t like it. Not one bit.
While Evan sat across from you, deep in conversation with your dad, Barty slid into the seat next to you, his eyes meeting yours.
The conversation flowed easily, but you felt Barty’s hand slide quietly under the table, as if testing boundaries. You felt his fingers settle on your thigh before you could fully register it.
Your breath caught sharply.
You froze, your heart hammering in your chest. Glancing sideways, you searched for Evan's reaction, but he didn't seem to notice anything.
You shifted subtly, sliding your leg to coax his fingers away, but they stayed for just a moment longer, as if daring you to do something about it.
“Everything okay?” Barty’s voice was teasing.
You bit your lip and shook your head slightly, refusing to meet his gaze.
After dinner, the house had grown quiet. Your parents had gone upstairs, leaving you, Evan and Barty alone.
Evan took his usual place in the recliner, his eyes glued to the TV screen, while you curled up on the sofa next to Barty, pulling a blanket over your legs.
Barty’s arm slung loosely over the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against your shoulder in a touch that felt anything but accidental.
“You look too serious,” he whispered.
Without warning, his hand slid down your arm, tracing a slow path to your knee under the blanket.
“Relax,” he murmured, his voice playful. “You’re way too tense for someone sitting this close.”
You swallowed hard, trying to keep your breathing steady, as his fingers moved, tracing circles on your skin.
Barty leaned in a little closer, his breath grazing your ear. “You know,” he whispered, “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have you like this.”
Your heart slammed against your ribs, caught off guard by the boldness. You shifted slightly, but he mirrored the movement.
His fingers traced the hem of your skirt again. “You’re not going to tell your big brother, are you?” he teased, smirking.
You shook your head quickly, but the warmth spreading through your cheeks betrayed you.
“I like this,” Barty said softly. “Just us. No rules, no watching eyes.” His voice dipped lower, almost a purr. “Feels… freeing, doesn’t it?”
His hand moved again, brushing lightly up your thigh. “Say something,” he whispered, his eyes locked on yours. “Tell me you want this too.”
Your voice was barely a whisper. “Barty, stop…”
He smiled, unapologetic, daring you with every touch. “Not yet.”