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I’ve taken things slow. Have treaded lightly. Not one to force but wanting to make sure she knows I’m interested, too. So, I’ve touched her, freely, hugging her and holding her hand. I’ve texted hergood morning, good night,and random things throughout the day in between. I’ve kissed her—at the airport, because I’d missed her more than I even fucking realized—and I’ve been doing the same on her hands, her forehead, her cheeks, her temple, since.
The truth is, I want my mouth all over her. I’m just waiting for her to clue in and give me the okay. Tell me she wants this, too, before I push too far if all she’s interested in is a friendship between us.
I’mthisclose to breaking, though.
In the past ten months, I’ve cracked once—only once. Calling and asking her to be mine. She’d laughed, tipsy at whatever party her and Addy were at.We can’t do the long-distance thing, Brooklyn,the memory of her words invades. I’m almost certainshe has no recollection of the conversation, but I wouldn’t know since I never asked.
If she were willing, though?
I’d do the long-distance thing with her in a heartbeat.
The front door swings open on that thought.Elijah.He walks into the kitchen and draws up short when he sees us. I watch as Declan takes him in. His stature bigger, tattoos more colorful and vibrant, matching dark hair, deep blue eyes, a few inches shorter than me, and a face nearly identical to mine if I were a handful of years older. His genes sway more toward our mother’s Puerto Rican side, his skin more tan, deeper, than my own, but we could be twins otherwise. All three of us, to be fair. Elijah, Thomas, and I.
He drags a hand across his short beard, assessing the situation. “I’m not sure what to do here, Little J,” he says with a wicked grin, and I groan before his next words have the chance to leave his mouth. “I mean, we didn’t discuss this. Am I pretending you haven’t told me everything about her already? And I shake her hand as if I don’t already know her full given name, where she was born, what she’s majoring in, and how much you like her?” He strides across the room with an open palm, meeting hers when he steps near her side.
Their hands move up and down in a firm shake.
“Elijah, this fuckers’ oldest brother,” he introduces himself to her, kicking a booted foot at my legs where they’re crossed at my ankles beneath the table.
“Declan,” she responds in return. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You, too. Talk around town is you’ve got this guy’s nuts in a—” I kick my foot out and shove it into his thigh—Converses, not as steely as his Docs, but they get the job done. I nearly knock him over. “Fuck—asshole,” he chuckles through a breath of amusement. He brings his fingers to his lips and mimes zippingthem shut, before throwing both of his hands up in a sign of surrender.
Never mind the fact that Declan is watching it all unfold, burying her laughter beneath another bite of food.
The scratch of Elijah’s chair scraping over tile has me tensing in my chair. No sense of privacy, this guy. Though I’m crashing at his pad, so I can’t really fault him. I just didn’t expect him home this early. It’s almost as if the asshole did it on purpose. Imagine that.
He seats himself between Declan and I, digging in with a pair of chopsticks in hand. Leaning over, he says something to her, and both their gazes land on mine. Whatever he’s saying is too low for me to hear, but their mouths kick up into smiles in unison.
A flush rises over her cheeks, and—irrational or not—I’m envious Elijah put it there.
The only thing keeping me from kicking his chair out from beneath him is the fact I can tell her blush has nothing to do with him and everything to do with me, her gaze hooked on mine as the pink color in her cheeks deepens.
Elijah takes that as an invitation to delve in with his questions.
How long are you here for? How did you guys meet? You play that one game together, right?
She responds at all the right moments.
Just until I graduate, for now. After that, I’m really not sure. I bumped into him in the hallway, actually. When he was staying at the Masons’ last summer. Well, Coach Mason, as you probably know him. And yeah, we do. We play Nevernight together.
“Did you manage to get a peek at Jude’s tiny dick hiding beneath his towel?” he asks in return.
Declan laughs, hard, head tilted back, exposing the column of her throat, and my pulse quickens at the sight. I’m a dick, for taking the image and then picturing it with her naked, on top of me, riding me until she’s coming. Because the gigantic as fuck elephant in the room? Last summer. When she did just that with her clothes on. Riding me until she came on my cock, making me spill in my briefs like a pathetic asshole.
I want to lean over this table and lick up the expanse of her throat. Want to feel her moans vibrate against my tongue. Want to feel her come—aroundmy cock—with her head thrown back just like that. Elijah sitting between us be damned.
But more than that, I wanther.
And though I don’t have the first clue how to convince her to be mine, this summer, I’m sure as fuck going to try.
______
I take Declan up to the rooftop after dinner. It’s still warm, but we’re up high enough to feel a slight breeze blowing through. Leading her over to the ledge, I take a seat in one of the two chairs facing the street. She follows my lead and lowers into the one beside me.
We sit for a while in silence, watching as the sun dips below the horizon.
There’s something too peaceful, too right, about having her here. Something that embeds itself into the marrow of my bones.