“I’M BORED,” DEZ SIGHS AS he plops down on the chair next to me. The TV is on, playing a rerun of some game show. Not sure how it got on, but neither of us have gotten up to change it.
It’s strangely entertaining.
I tip back my beer. “Well, if you’re asking for me to entertain you, I’m not that kind of guy. You gotta buy me dinner first, at least.”
“Fuck you, Cleaton,” he growls. “I’m not house sitting for my parents all weekend and not doing anything fun.”
Dez’s parents went out of town for a few days but will be back tomorrow night. Apparently Dez has an aunt who spends Christmas with them every year but hates driving, flying, and doesn’t really like to leave her house.
His parents drove up to Charleston, South Carolina on Friday to get her.
And since it’s the holiday season, they didn’t want to leave their house empty. In fear of break-ins or something. So, Dez has been here since and apparently is going a little stir crazy.
Dez quiets for a while before clapping his hands together. “Let’s have a party.”
I chuckle, putting the beer on the coffee table. “Did you not trash this place enough in high school?”
This house is a high school kid’s dream for a party. Open floor plan, insane square footage. Given the person Dez is, and the few parties I’d been to at his actual place, I have no doubt that he went balls to the wall in high school.
“Ha, I wish! My parents just moved here.” Dez pushes up off the couch, pacing around the living room. “We can’t have a party, though. Not enough booze. We can do something. Have to do something or I’m going through the wall. Can’t go to a bar, they’re too packed with everyone in town. What to do, what to do?”
He wanders to the giant windows looking out toward the river and snaps his fingers. “I got it! Paddleboards.”
“Paddleboards?”
“Yeah, we’ll invite some people over and get them to come party on the river with us. Get some glow sticks and shit. Who should we invite?”
I stare at him. “I only know a few people. All of them know you.” Not to mention I don’t have a paddleboard here. When I left home, I only packed two of my surfboards.
“You can borrow my sister’s board,” Dez says, as if he can read my mind. “I’ll text a few people. Not a lot. Do you think Emery and Brit will want to come?”
“Don’t know.” I shrug, fisting my phone. I don’t bother mentioning that they already have plans. Dez stopped listening as soon as he asked the question, his phone in hand as his fingers type furiously across the screen.
“How are things going with the surfer princess?” he asks, looking up.
That’s the name the media gave her when she competed and Emery told me the other day that she hates it.
“She’d kick your ass for calling her that,” I say, laughing. “Things are fine. We’re good.”
“Bang her yet?” He locks his phone, wiggling his eyebrows.
I flip him off. “If I have, I’m not telling you shit. Because she’d kick my ass.”
Emery has made it clear that she can’t stand Dez.
He chuckles. “She doesn’t really hate me that much does she?”
I guess he isn’t as oblivious as he pretends to be. I shrug. “Sorry, dude. When we’re together we don’t talk about you. Much to your ego’s dismay.”
“Next time you’re with her, ask her why she hates me.”
“Two guesses as to why.” He looks at me, not understanding. “Two words. Best. Friend.”
“She doesn’t like me because of Brit?” Now he sounds even more confused. How many beers did he drink tonight, again? “Brit and I are cool.”
“How do you possibly get laid as much as you do and not know shit about women?”
“Hey!” he starts, looking slightly offended. “I know women. I have an older sister, you know. She made sure I was well versed on all things women.”
“Then how are you still so bad at it?” He has to know that girls stick together. One for all and all for one or some shit like that. Chicks before dicks.
“I don’t have time for a relationship right now. Not with the shit that is going on in my life. I need fun and simple. Not committed and complicated.”
Dez doesn’t talk about his personal life a lot. Hardly ever. Something he and I have in common. But from what I gather he helps his parents a lot by taking care of his sister’s kids while she’s away for work. After getting out of the military, she took a job that has her traveling at least twice a month. He hasn’t mentioned their dad after that one night at my house, but he hardly mentions his sister either.
Family is a sore subject for Dez.
Something I get a hundred percent.
With Dez, though, I feel his cagey attitude comes from a place of protection. That he wants to keep his fam close and safe.
“Have you even talked to Brit lately?” I ask, already knowing the answer. I might have lied when I said Emery and I don’t talk about Dez. We talked about him once after trivia night when Emery came over for a little bit. And then one time this weekend. Both times, it was basically the same. She doesn’t like Dez for messing with Brit and her emotions.
“Dude, this is the first weekend I’ve had free since school got out for break and that’s only because my parents, niece and nephew are out of town. I can breathe for once and take the day a little slower.”
“You might know women, but I do too,” I tell him. “If you haven’t told her you’ve been busy, she’s going to be hurt that you’ve been ignoring her. Especially after last time I saw you two.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Are you really this fucking dense, Dez? You spent the entire night ignoring her, putting your attention on another girl and now you haven’t talked to her. Jesus Christ dude, the first time I met Brit she was sucking your dick.” He glares. I ignore him. “And I know you two had sex after that because you wouldn’t shut up about it. You’re being a fucking idiot.”
“Should I invite her tonight?” He looks lost standing in front of me, holding his phone limply.
I shake my head. “She probably won’t come if you ask. She’s with Emery right now. I can just text her and see if they want to come.” I don’t mention that they probably won’t, as much as I want to see her. I know how important her friends are and how much she values her “best friend bonding time” as she likes to call it.
My fingers hover over the keyboard, trying to figure out how I’m going to get her to agree to come.
I send a message, wondering if Emery will or won’t show. If her smile will light up the night sky like it does the mornings.
I’m at my truck when a car honks. Pulling up beside me, Emery rolls down her window, smiling. “Fancy seeing you here.”
I smile back. “Hi yourself.”
“Do I not get a kiss for showing up?” she teases. This morning when she opened her car door, I leaned into her car, kissing her just “because she showed up.” She clucks her tongue, tilting her head to the side. “Or do you not kiss me in front of other people?” Her words are drawn out, dramatic. “Am I your secret affair for spank bank material to use in years to come?”
I chuckle, not really following where she’s going with her last question. I do, however, lean into her window, sucking her bottom lip into my mouth. Kissing her hard and slow. Right as I’m about to greet her tongue with mine, a gagging noise sounds from the passenger seat.
I pull back, nodding to Brit. Not apologizing for mauling her best friend. Kissing Emery is something I’ll never apologize for. “Sup, Brit?”
“Just lost my appetite.” She gags again.
“Don’t listen to her, she just ate tacos,” Emery says. “Quick, kiss me again.”
Laughing, I do.
“You two are gross.” But Brit’s smiling, her words light. “Break her heart and I’ll break your face.”
“If he breaks my heart, I’ll break his face,” Emery says, and the look these two share has me fearing for my life.
Mental note: don’t break Emery’s heart.
I’ve noticed that Emery has no problem with PDA or acting more affectionate when we’re together, but when we’re texting or the few times that I’ve called her, she’s different. More distant.
I know she’s got issues with commitment. I don’t even know if she’s aware of it, but it’s clear that she doesn’t want to get too attached.
I’m trying to show her that she has to take risks and put herself out there if she wants to get what she wants.
And I want her to want me.
Brit looks out the windshield and her eyes narrow.
I don’t have to turn around to know she sees Dez standing on the porch. He’s been out there waiting since I told him the girls were on their way.
He says he wants to try and explain, but I think he’s going to fuck it up more.
“I’m going to go say hi to Tucker and Carly,” Brit mumbles as soon as she’s out of the car and Dez steps off the porch, heading toward her.
He tries to stop her, but she spins away from his reach and walks away. Not looking back.
Mental fist bump to Brit.
Dez looks at her retreating backside until she reaches two people standing on the other side of the yard, near most of the paddleboards, before he walks over to us.
Emery mumbles something under her breath I don’t catch as she gets out of her car.
“Be nice,” I warn.
She looks up at me, eyes wide with faux innocence. “I am always nice, Sebastian. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I chuckle, pulling her close to my side. Partly because I want her close and partly to hold her back so she doesn’t go off on my closest friend. I’ve been trying to be a third party up until this point. Now it looks like I have to get involved on both sides.
Mediating and shit.
Fucking joy.
“Emery Lawson, you look radiant.” Dez smiles, a little wobbly from all the beers.
“And you look like a drunk idiot.” Em smiles back but it lacks warmth, her words sugary sweet and fake. Dez seems to know it, too. He looks down at her.
“I don’t know what I did to you, Lawson. We’ve barely talked since high school.”
“We barely talked in high school,” she tells him. “My problem with you has to do with a girl you are treating like dirt. Just stop playing your fucking games, Dez. Brit’s too nice of a person for you to be doing this with. She wants something you’ll never give her. Stop now and let her be happy, and enjoy the rest of her break.”
Dez is still looking down at her. His expression shifting around. “What if I want to try?”
“Try what?” Emery stiffens. I squeeze her waist until she relaxes into me.
“Try to give her what she wants. Do you think she’ll let me?”
Emery nibbles her bottom lip, thinking. “I think she will,” she starts, slowly. “But only if you’re serious and not going to bail after two weeks. Your attention span is shocking.”
“Have you always been this snarky?”
“Only when my protective side comes out.” She smiles, the smile of a feral cat.
I try to contain it, but a cough slips out with the word, “bullshit.”
Emery elbows my side.
I laugh, kissing her head.
Dez watches both of us before nodding and walking away.
“Leave her alone tonight,” Emery calls and Dez turns back long enough to nod one more time.
She turns in my arms, kissing my neck. “Why am I here again? I could be at home, in my PJs, watching hot men on my screen.”
“Should I be jealous?” I rumble, wrapping my arms around her waist, pulling her up on her toes.
“Only if you have their number in your phone. I’d hit them up instead,” she teases, her arms going around my neck. “So, unless you want me to reunite with them back home, you should get on with reminding me why I came.”
I smile as I lean in to kiss her. It feels good having her here, having her in my arms. I try to keep the kiss innocent and light. Just a quick slip of the tongue. But I haven’t been able to be just sweet with Emery, so why would now be any different?
The sweet kiss turns into something packed with a lot more heat. Emery’s nails dig into my neck as I devour her mouth, teasing, tasting, nipping.
Kissing Emery is something I never want to stop, but someone’s hooting and whistling breaks through my lust-filled haze and I pull away, pressing a kiss to her forehead as I do.
“Need a hand?” I ask as I start working the cables on her roof, undoing them to take the paddleboards down.
Emery goes to the other side, doing the same motions as I am. “You know I can do this by myself.” She glares at me. “I don’t need your help.”
Have I mentioned what a turn-on her independence is?
Because holy fuck it is.
I grin as if she isn’t wanting to chop off my balls. “I know you can do it by yourself, Em. But I’m trying to earn my keep with you.”
She snorts as her glare fades. I know the glare isn’t a real one. “Catch!” She has the cables done on her side before I do and she throws them at me. I catch them, jumping to the side so the hooks don’t smack me in the face.
“Dude.” It’s my turn to glare.
“I didn’t mean to throw them at your face.” She nibbles her bottom lip. “I have really shitty aim.”
I shake my head, throwing the cords on the driver’s seat. “How about from now on you don’t throw things that could potentially blind me?” I grab one of the boards, heaving it off with a shallow grunt as Emery does the same, not making a peep.
Again, her independence turns me on.
She walks around to me, holding the board to her side, looking every bit at ease. Even though paddleboards are heavier than surfboards. By a lot.
“Deal.” There’s an evil quality to the way she’s smiling at me now. “And since I’m a lady, I’ve decided that you can carry both the boards to the river. You know, since you want to earn your keep.”
I tilt my head back and laugh. Wordlessly agreeing. She’s just doing this because she’s sassy and wants to mess with me, to see how far I’ll go with what she throws down. No matter what she tries, I’ll be willing to catch or hit.
I played little league for five years.
I can keep up.
Motioning for her to hand the board over, I ask. “Ready to head over?”
“I was promised glow sticks, Cleaton. You better deliver.” She reaches into the backseat, clutching a bag to her chest. Protectively.
I frown. “You okay?”
“Yep!” Cheer, too much of it, is forced through her tone. “Just point me in the direction of where they are stashed and I shall get all colorful.”
“Emery.”
“Bash, do you not want me all colorful? Because, again, I can find them without your help.”
I sigh. She’s deflecting. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
As I lead her into the house, I rub my hand over my chest tattoo.
“You do that when you’re aggravated, you know?” Emery’s voice is smaller beside me as she watches my face.
“Yeah?” My grandma always used to say it was the little things that mattered. Not just in relationships, but in life too. A shot of emotion swells in my chest at her words.
She’s paying attention to me as much as I am to her.
“Bash, you know I have issues from my accident I’m still trying to deal with.”
I do know that. I just wish she wouldn’t hide herself from me.
We’re walking through the front door and I grab her hand, leading her away from the kitchen where the glow sticks are and down an empty hallway, pushing through the first door we come to.
Walking us straight into a bathroom.
“I know you do.” I put my hands on her shoulders, giving them a squeeze before running them down her arms. “And I’m not pushing you to tell me anything you don’t want to. But I want you to know that you don’t have to hide from me.”
“Don’t I?” She looks up at me. “This doesn’t even feel real, whatever we’ve been doing. I feel like we’re in a bubble and you’re going to leave soon and the bubble is going to pop, taking everything I’ve told you with it.”
She’s talking like we have an expiration date, an expiration date for something that hasn’t really begun. I don’t like it.
But she’s right, isn’t she?
As much as I’ve been trying to avoid it, I’m going to have to leave one day.
Soon, if my mother has her way.
“Even if I leave, Em, it doesn’t mean we have to end.” I don’t want whatever we have to end. I want it to grow. I want to define us. I want to be invested in her, in us. The time frame has been short, but spending every day together has brought us closer in this short time than some people I’ve known for half of my life. We’ve formed a friendship that is starting to develop into something more. “It’s not like I’m never going to come back. Or that I’ll even leave.”
This vacation has turned into so much more than I’d hoped. More than I had originally planned.
“Bash—”
I kiss her, capturing her words with my tongue, swallowing them down. Unheard and unsaid.
“I’m not leaving anytime soon,” I promise her. “We don’t have to rush anything. You set the pace, I’m good with whatever you want. As long as I get to see you.” My hands travel to down her sides, to her hips, sliding over her ass. Giving her cheeks a squeeze. “And, hopefully, touch you.”
She laughs, pressing her face to my body and the sound vibrates my chest, traveling everywhere. She digs her fingers into my arms, not lifting her head as she says, “I have scars.”
The words are mumbled into my shirt, making them not as coherent.
“We all do, babe.” I kiss her forehead. Something I’ve been doing a lot of tonight. But each time I do, she relaxes. It calms her and it calms me.
“Mine are pretty bad.” She still won’t look at me.
“Ask me about mine sometime, Em. Mine aren’t pretty either.”
“I’m not talking about emotional scars, Bash. Although I have a lot of those, too.” She pushes away from me. Not far. Just enough so her face isn’t pressed into my chest anymore. “I’m talking about physical scars.”
Oh.
Right.
She told me how bad it looked, but I’ve seen her in bikinis and haven’t noticed any—
Wait.
No, I haven’t seen her in a bikini.
Ever.
She’s always in a wetsuit when we’re in the water and wearing jeans or long dresses and skirts. I’ve never seen her actual legs.
Her actual body.
My mind goes back to all the times I’ve touched her body. Felt the raised flesh on some places, never fully registering or questioning them.
“Do you want to show me?” My voice soft, like cashmere.
She shakes her head but pulls away. Grabbing the hem of her t-shirt, in a way similar to the night I first met her. My own hands shoot out, capturing her wrists. Holding them steady. “You don’t have to do this.”
I see the fear in her eyes.
I don’t know if it’s fear of me seeing her scars, specifically, or if it’s fear of her showing them to someone else in general.
Whatever the reason is, I don’t like it. I don’t want her to do this out of fear. I don’t want to see them if she isn’t ready to actually show them.
“Bash, I want to.” She tries to pry her arms away, but I hold on. Loosely. “Let go.”
The sternness in her voice causes me to listen.
I let go.
I step back.
I wait.
With a deep breath, Emery pulls the shirt over her head, holding it at her side. Her eyes are closed and my eyes are on her stomach.
Fucking hell.