Chapter Thirteen

Dylan

“Let’s watch a movie.”

I look up from my magazine to Cade’s voice. Earlier, when I woke from my nap, he had the grill running and steaks cooking.

My clean kitchen had also been a war zone, with the spice cupboard door open and spice containers littering the counter. That wasn’t even touching the actual spices decorating the counter.

I won’t mention the urge to giggle at the iPad propped up on the recipe book ledge.

We ate in the kitchen but then came back to the patio, same seats as earlier. He was now nursing a beer, and I was curled up in my chair, reading the latest Cosmo.

“C’mon,” he says, standing and holding a hand out toward me. Not saying a word, I look at his hand, then up to his face.

He waves his hand at me.

“It’s going to get too dark to read that, anyway.”

I point over my shoulder with my thumb. “Lights. They turn on.”

“Fine. I’ll watch a movie.” If I wanted to analyze his tone, I’d say he was disappointed I wasn’t going with him, but I was having a hard time with how comfortable I was around him.

Now.

Other than this afternoon’s conversation, we coexisted in this giant house in relative silence.

But a comfortable silence.

I was no longer anxious around him.

At least, not in a “my world is ending” way.

Perhaps, more in a “my world may be beginning” way, and it was that reason that had me trying to dig my heels in.

Cade stuffs his hand in his pocket and then salutes me with his glass bottle, before stepping around me and my chair. I force myself to look back down at the magazine, and not at his denim-covered ass as it’s practically in my face.

When I hear the door slide open, then finally shut, I swallow hard

On one hand, I’m excited that I only have to play nice for another eighteen hours.

On the other hand, though, I surprisingly want more time.

I want to get to know him.

I want him to stick around.

Obviously, he can’t. He has a film to get back to.

But I’m not exactly opposed to him coming back next weekend.

Sighing, I flip the page in my magazine, and try to focus on the words in front of me.

I turn the page again, and this next article is about fellatio techniques and God, I’m glad Cade isn’t out here right now. Curiosity wins out though, and I read through the article and testimonials for the different acts. I don’t even realize I’m biting my lip until I feel the corner of my mouth getting wet.

Good God, I’m literally drooling.

All while I’m reading and picturing and…

Yep.

I can almost feel what it would be like, to be with Cade.

I tell myself that the reason why I’m suddenly interested in him is simply because he’s the first guy I’ve spent longer than ten minutes with, in the last six months.

That has to be it.

It has nothing to do with his handsome face.

His kind smile.

His ability to listen.

Not judge.

Because I honestly don’t think he’s judged me once today.

With my finger holding my place, I close the magazine and look out over the patio and to the lake. I’m not really seeing the lake; my mind is on Cade.

And yeah, it’s imagining what he’s packing below the belt.

Which leads to not-so-PG thoughts of what he can likely do with it.

The girly part of my brain imagines he’s a hand holder. A neck kisser. I imagine him being a slow lover, and I find myself wanting to know what it would be like to just be in his arms.

PG or not.

I’m not sure how long I sit there, staring out into nothing, but eventually the sun begins to set and I’m getting chilled. It probably hasn’t been longer than twenty minutes but unless I go inside to throw on a sweatshirt, I’m going to be too cold to move soon.

I roll the magazine in half and hit it against my leg before standing.

I think I’m going to go watch a movie…

Not wanting to change my mind, I head inside and drop the magazine off on the kitchen counter. My guess is, Cade is in the home theater downstairs, but I check the living room first.

Not there.

I make my way to the open staircase that leads to the lower level and, cautiously, I make my way down the dimmed stairwell. I can’t hear the movie, exactly, but the base of the surround sound can be heard.

As I step into the room, I introduce myself.

This room isn’t like a traditional movie room.

There are no individual seats; it’s just a giant pit of cushions and pillows. It’s very…

Cozy.

And not really a place for two not-really-friends to hang out.

Cade reaches to his side and then points the remote to the projector behind him. “Hey. You wanna join?”

I look from him to the screen, seeing Chris Hemsworth in all of his fine Australia glory.

“12 Strong,” Cade says. “Have you seen it?”

I shake my head, only to realize he may not be able to see the action well. The only light is coming from the screen. “No, I haven’t. Wanted to but didn’t get to it.”

“Well, come on in. Have a seat.”

I walk to the front of the cushion pit and make my way carefully over the softness and toward the back; near Cade, but not right next to him.

“I don’t bite,” he says, as I lower myself carefully, in this sort of, right-lean fashion. I’m sure it’s a sight.

“It takes me a minute to get comfortable sometimes,” I kind of lie.

I mean, that’s mostly true, but I also am still high on the vivid pictures of what I think his dick looks like and how it might feel inside me, so I’m really just better off sitting over here with a good two feet between us.

I know I have it bad when my thoughts take a sarcastic turn.

I’m partially expecting him to say something like, “Suit yourself,” because the devil on my shoulder is still routing on Cade being a bad guy, but of course he doesn’t.

Shoot, the guy gives me my space and, ten minutes later when I haven’t moved from my spot, he moves closer.

His shoulder is nearly brushing mine, as he leans into the pillows stacked along the back of the pit. “This okay?” he whispers, hardly legible over the sounds of the movie.

I can smell him. He still smells like his earlier shower, but also faintly of the grill.

I can feel the heat coming from his body.

I ache to lean over just…a little…bit.

I nod. “Yeah,” I try to say but am met with resistance. I clear my throat and try again. “Yes, it’s fine.”

I keep my gaze fixed to the large screen, but I know without a doubt he’s looking at me, and not at the movie.

I struggle with keeping my gaze forward but end up giving in and looking to my left where, why yes, he is looking at me.

Licking my lips nervously, I swallow hard.

But he just smiles at me.

Winks.

Then turns his attention to the screen.