Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
“Wanna go in the water?” he asks, when we finish eating.
“That’s my plan.”
He unlaces his hiking boots and pulls them off, along with his socks. And next goes his tee over his head. Staring at his chest would be bad. His nipples hypnotized me or something in the clothes shop. It wasn’t my fault. Though thank goodness any overheating leading to a red face will be harder to see in this light. There’s no time to ogle, given he continues on, unbuttoning and unzipping his cargo shorts and setting them aside. I don’t check out anything below his waist because that would be wrong for reasons I can’t remember.
Friends. We’re just friends. Without benefits. Which is sad but such is life. Also, his friendship is a beautiful thing.
Focusing on my own clothing seems smart. So I do away with my tank and denim shorts. It’s a simple string bikini in yellow and white gingham. My hair is up in a ponytail. Any excess on my stomach or cellulite on my thighs and ass is as it should be. It’s the patriarchy who wants women frail and underfed and tired—and fuck them.
I look up to find his warm gaze skimming over me. From my breasts to my belly and down to my thighs. Seems we’re both overly aware of each other’s bodies. Of the bare skin currently on display. It makes me feel better with regard to the effort it’s taking not to stare at the visible dick imprint in his boxer briefs. I’m not a deviant hooked on a country-rockstar. Though it sure does feel like it. This level of yearning is unprecedented in me.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. Good.”
“Be careful on the rocks. They might be slippery.”
With the two fresh beers, into the water we go. Sitting comfortably is easy for the first ten feet or so. The water is at boob level when seated here, but then it gets deeper. So we stay in the shallows for now.
“Fuck yes,” he murmurs in his smooth, deep voice. “I needed this.”
My nipples are hard from the cool water and nothing else. I am not turned on by any overtly sexual guttural moaning on his part.
With his beer held high, he lies back and disappears beneath the surface. And when he reappears, his hair is wet and slicked back and beads of water linger on his skin. He really is disturbingly attractive with the hard jawline, sharp cheekbones, and high forehead. My eyes are dazzled.
“Better?” I ask.
“So much.”
Being attracted to anyone is so inconvenient right now. I want to nurse my disappointment and ponder where I went wrong. How I made allowances for the times my ex treated me as an afterthought. Though the truly dickish behavior didn’t come to light for a long time. He knew to hide it well.
“Talk to me about something,” I say. “I need a distraction.”
“What’s your take on aliens?”
I blink. “My take on aliens? If they’re out there, they’ve got to be avoiding us, right?”
“No one would blame them.”
“This planet is a mess.”
“They should probably stay out of this whole galaxy just to be safe. Humans, man. What can you do?” he asks. “What’s your first memory?”
“Getting bitten on the toe by an ant at the park.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“I am not.”
“Shit. How traumatic.”
“It’s been a few years. I don’t hold a grudge against insects.”
He grins. “In their defense, I’m sure you’re very tasty.”
There will come a day when I don’t smile at his stupid flirting. Just not today. “What’s your first memory?”
“Dancing to the radio with my mom in the living room.”
“That’s lovely.”
“Yeah. What are you thinking about that required distraction?” asks Nash.
“The breakup, unfortunately.”
“Oof.”
“I need to let it go, but sometimes my mind just…you know.”
“It hasn’t been long. We’re all figuring shit out, June. You have to give yourself grace, like Molly said.”
I frown. “Yeah. Being unreasonably hard on yourself is just so much fun, you know?”
“Oh. It’s a laugh a minute,” he jokes. “Not so many long-term couples in music. Touring is hard on relationships. Touring is hard full stop. As good as it can be to get out on the road and to feel the rush from a live crowd. The grind of the constant routine gets you. Being away from home for up to a year or two at a time.”
“But tomorrow you’re free as a bird and can do whatever you want to do,” I say with a smile.
“This is true.” He reaches out and tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear. “It was just…there we go.”
“Thanks.”
His gaze moves from me to the water and back again. Like he’s not sure where to look. “So…”
“This is nice.”
“Very nice.”
And I don’t know what to say. But I can’t be imagining this chemistry between us. It feels too tangible to be only in my imagination. Perhaps I should investigate a messy rebound elsewhere. Sex with someone who doesn’t have such a complicated life and hopefully has never hired my grandmother as their housekeeper. It’s worth a thought or two.