SS(S)S - Hug Sal

You twist your torso and hug Sal. It’s impulsive, and that’s how she takes it. She initially stiffens, then relaxes and cautiously puts her hand on your back to signal that she’s reciprocating without being too forward. You can’t help but feel something. Her body is perfect, and the smell of her is womanly and real.

You say nothing and hold on.

Finally, she speaks. “I thought CCL was supposed to be chill. What are they doing to you guys over there?” she asks, not being completely serious, but with a hint of concern. That’s fair. You haven’t stopped to consider the message that your act would send. You wanted to paint a picture of yourself, not of CCL as a whole.

“I’m OK,” you mumble into her chest, but you take that as your signal and pull back, pretending to wipe your eyes.

She puts the computer aside and sighs. “You’re obviously not. Do you need help?” It’s a serious question.

You shake your head. “No. It’s OK. Really. I’m a mess, but it’s OK.”

“OK,” she replies, not believing it, but not wanting to argue. She gazes at you and when you don’t say anything, she smiles. It’s clear from your behavior and body language that you don’t want to leave, or more specifically if Sal is reading between the lines correctly, you don’t want to go back to CCL House right now.

Sal sighs. She doesn’t have much to work with here. She plucks at the hem of your skirt.

“You had plans today?”

“Yeah,” you say, as though embarrassed.

“Date?”

“Not really,” you reply, giving her a look. “I called it off. I have a friend who’s not very sporty.”

“You put that cute little outfit on for a friend?” Sal asks, raising an eyebrow.

You look away and shrug.

“Lucky friend,” she says, standing up. “You want to go play?”

“Huh?”

“I have an outfit just like that,” she says, nodding toward you. “You need something to take your mind off whatever you have going on. Let’s go. It’s still light. Nobody’s going to be there this time of day on a Saturday.”

You smile. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I should. I ate Pop-Tarts for breakfast and I haven’t done anything today.” She gives her hip a light smack. “And it’s what you need.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “Exercise is good for mood. It’s science.”

You laugh. “What do you study?”

“Psychology.”

“Oh,” you say. You didn’t know that about her.

“Come on. We’ll play some tennis. You’ll feel better.”

“Why are you doing this for me?” you ask, standing up.

She gestures vaguely at you. “If someone walked into your house acting like this, would you leave them alone?”

“I’m OK,” you say. The embarrassment isn’t an act. You thought that Sal would be a little more pragmatic about this. But she’s just being nice.