Page 29 of Eight Weeks
“Don’t be disrespectful, Germany. Answer me!” From thethudthat’s coming from the living room, I’d say he just threw his precious remote control across the room, like he does so very often when things don’t go his way.
Seconds later, I can hear footsteps coming from behind of me. I turn around just in time to see that slobby grey-haired man approaching Aaron and me.
He looks even more disgusting when he isn’t sitting in his armchair. The stains of old food on his shirt, not bothering to wear any pants because the only times he gets up from his armchair is when he uses the bathroom, gets a new beer, or goes upstairs to sleep. The beard that probably hasn’t been cared for in years, and the sickening dirty fingernails… it all comes into view when he actually stands in front of me.
“Not a cute girl-friend after all,” he says, his voice filled with disgust as he takes in Aaron’s figure. “Pretty faces don’t get far in life. I had one and look at me now.” His arms open as he turns around once, showing himself off.
My stomach turns, not only from having to look at this man, but from thesmellof him.
Hugo smells like he hasn’t showered in weeks, and from the looks of it, he probably hasn’t. The smell of sweat with a mixture of beer, rotten food and whatever the hell one would define his breath as, it causes instant nausea.
My stomach ishurtingfrom the smell of him, my eyes stinging.
It pains me so much, I willingly move to Aaron’s side, and lean my head against his body so I could smell him instead. And boy does he smell nice, even when a mere 6.5 foot away that smelly something stands, staring at my breasts.
Aaron must have noticed where Hugo’s eyes linger because when Hugo’s hand reaches out—even though he couldn’t reach me from that far away—Aaron instantly tugs me further into his side, turns me so most of my front would be covered by his body while his arm around me does the rest to cover up my breasts. Well, his hand does most of the covering.
I’m not even wearing anything tight to show off my body and my breast isn’t big at all, I’m not sure what he is seeing. I wouldn’tdareshowing any skin here with Hugo around. God knows what would happen if he saw just that tiny bit too much of it.
“Hey, hey, now. No need to be so uptight,” Hugo says, dropping his hand.
My mind is trying to find words to say, trying to come up with anything that would shut him up, but for once I’ve got nothing.
Back in Germany, having good comebacks and a big mouth was what got you through school if you didn’t want to be at the receiving end of arrogant wannabe Ariana Grandes. I know how to make myself heard, how not to let words too close to my heart, and yet with every word Hugo utters, all I manage to come up with is a repetitive mantra of “Do not puke.”
“Where’s your room, love?” Aaron’s hand grazes the side of my breast, but he quickly moves it a tad further away from my body.
The short touch sends an awful lot of strange tingles through my entire body, waking up every single muscle. I’m well aware that he didn’t mean to touch me, I even appreciate the fact that he respects me enough not to do so even though everything would be so much better than have Hugo continue to stare at me like he is seconds away from jumping me. But I do have to admit, I wouldn’t mind Aaron touching me a little longer.
I point toward the stairs, telling Aaron to make his way up there. Thankfully he does without me having to say a word. Only when we made it inside of my room does Aaron let go off me and takes a step back. I almost laugh at the sudden loss of his warmth, but I’m not crazy enough to actually let it slip out to get questions thrown at my head.
“Thank you,” I say, not only talking about him helping me take my suitcases over to the dorms but also for what he did with Hugo. Not that he did much or said anything specific to scare my not-really-uncle off, but he helped nonetheless.
Aaron leans back against the closed door, crossing his arms over his chest, smirking at me while his eyes flicker back and forth from my chest to my eyes. “You know, if you don’t want your pedophilic uncle to stare at your boobs, maybe you should wear a shirt that isn’t see-through.”
“See-through?!” I run over to the wall-length mirror in this room, looking at myself only to find out that my shirt is, in fact, see-through. Not entirely but enough since the white fabric is still damp from my earlier escapade. That’s what I get for wearing a white shirt when I have to wash off a stain from my aunt’s bedsheets.
I barely had the time to change before Aaron rang the doorbell and I forgot about white fabric actually turning see-through when it gets wet.
“Turn around!” I whisper-yell, looking at Aaron through the mirror. The smirk on his face doesn’t fade, especially not when his eyes fall back down to my chest. “Nix!”
He doesn’t turn around. Instead, Aaron finds it to be a great idea to walk up to me, coming to a stop when his front is so close to my back, I can almost feel the heat from his body on mine.
I’m pretty sure my heart just sank into the floor, trying it’s best to hide from the only guy I know has enough power over me to break it into a million pieces with just a couple of words.
He frightens me. Having him this close to me, feeling his breath on my skin, his heat warming me and his eyes on mine has my blood run cold, freezing every inch of my body to the point where I can no longer move. And yet all I want to do is run away from him.
It doesn’t even make sense. Aaron this close to me makes as much sense as a butterfly in a beehive. It’s not supposed to be that way.
He grabs my shirt in his hand, pulling on it only to make it cling to my front even more than it already does. The wet shirt pressed against my body lets my skin show even more than before, granting him a much better view on my breasts than just outlines and shadows.
My nipples peak at the cold of the shirt, and even if I didn’t feel it, I can see it in the mirror. And if I can see it, so can Aaron, but he doesn’t comment on it.
“You’re wearing it again,” he says in such a low tone, I have to doublecheck if it’s really Aaron here in the room with me.It is.
His free hand finds to my neck, his finger hooking into the silver chain as he pulls it from underneath the shirt.
“Aaron…”
