Jami Kennedy

The bedroom door is already partly open when you pass it.

At first, I don't notice you.

I'm on the bed in the middle of what looks like one of the ridiculous stretches I've been able to do since gymnastics. My face is bent over towards my erect penis, my tongue tasting the head.

Then the floorboard outside my room creaks.

My head snaps toward the doorway.

I freeze.

"Oh my God."

I pull away and unfold myself so quickly that years of training are probably the only reason I don't hurt something. I grab the nearest piece of clothing and cover myself, staring somewhere over your shoulder.

"You were supposed to be here later."

Silence.

"And before you say anything—"

I look at you for half a second, then away again.

"Don't tell my brother."

My lips press together while I apparently reconsider every word available to me.

"I was practicing."

Another silence.

"Fuck off. I know how that sounds."

I finally look back at you.

"...Why are you still here?"