She smiles, her head still leaning into her hand.
“The bay doors were open,” I go on. “Blowing loose locks from your ponytail into your face, your white smile so big even from yards away. I remember I couldn’t hear your laughter, but I could like…” My voice drops to a whisper, remembering the moment I knew I was in love with her. “I could feel it inside me.”
Her smile starts to fall as her breathing quickens.
“A bee caught scent of you and sent you into a panic,” I tease. “Which was funny, because you don’t panic. Army put you in a headlock, trapping you and making you squeal.”
“I think I remember that.”
It was a while ago. We knew each other by then, but I made sure she didn’t see me. I didn’t want her to stop playing.
I stare off into the tray of oysters. “You all seemed so happy.” And then I gaze across the table at her. “You were so pretty. I was dying for you even then.”
It’s actually amazing the skirt still fits her.
I stare at her, both of us suffering a lot of loss in the past few years, and both of us with our own hang-ups—me with my family and she with hers. She might not want to carry this relationship to college, and I might not want to go public and invite criticism for something that’s a fling, but I know without a doubt that I will never hurt her again.
I jerk my chin at the oysters. “Eat one,” I tell her.
She picks a shell up, and I watch as she opens her mouth, tips her head back, and swallows the mollusk, hot sauce running down the corner of her mouth. She dips out her tongue and swipes it up, tossing the shell down and licking her lips as she meets my eyes.
I groan inside, looking at her supple, soft lips.
I set the bottle in front of her, and she struggles to hold back her smile.
Uncapping the bottle, she tips it up and swallows, the plastic container crinkling in her hand.
“Mmmm…” She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, the breeze blowing her hair into her face as she caps the bottle again.
I nod at the shells. “Again.”
She gives me a look that tells me she knows what I’m doing, and she likes it.
Swallowing another oyster, she chases it with a shot, her eyes closing and a light sheen gathering at that little dip in her collarbone.
My thighs warm, watching her mouth move and swallows go down her throat. Everything is warm.
“These are good,” she says, seasoning the rest of the oysters for us. “Almost like we shouldn’t tear this place down to build a golf course.”
I give her a knowing look. “No, we shouldn’t.”
Mariette’s and Sanoa Bay are Florida, and I’d rather have this particular Floridian in front of me here than a sea of tourists making my father richer.
We eat, and I take a couple of shots, hiding the bottle when the server comes by. My stomach growls, realizing I haven’t eaten today besides the oysters, and I kind of want to order a meal, but she’s too far away, and I don’t know if I want to stay here longer.
“I hate this table between us,” I grumble under my breath.
She suddenly stands up, moves her chair next to mine, and sits down, her arm around the back of my chair, and her beautiful leg draped over my lap.
My hand immediately slides up the inside of her thigh as my lips find her neck. “I really like your outfit,” I whisper.
When school uniforms are a thing of the past, it’ll be fun to wear whatever I want and let her taunt me, doing the same.
She takes another shot, and I lick the tequila off her lips. She blinks, surprised as her eyes flit around us to who could be watching, but just this once, I don’t care. “This could be it,” I tell her, taking her again.
She feels too good to stop.
She kisses me, leaning into me and moaning, and I can’t stop smiling.
“So, when is this part of the date over?” she asks.
“Are you ready for part two? A romantic walk on the beach?”
“Ugh.”
I laugh. “A movie then?”
She scowls.
“Mini golf?”
She shakes her head, staring at my mouth.
But I keep going. “Followed by an in-depth conversation about our sociological, political, and theistic values, in that order?”
She snatches up my lips, and I’m really glad her house isn’t far away. We can still watch a movie or talk about theology, just in bed.
“Clayyyyy?” A voice booms in the distance.
I still, Liv stopping mid-kiss and hovering over my lips.
Was that…?
“What the hell?” I gasp.
My nerves fire, and I sit up straight, pulling my hands off her body.
Callum. I peek through the tree, seeing him saunter into the courtyard with Milo, Amy, and a couple of his friends in tow.