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The way his mouth was moving right now, saying…something.

Wait. What was he saying?

“…romanticized heartache, but a soul-deep devotion to Lenore. He can’t forget, because the raven—or his own subconscious—won’t let him, because what they had was strong enough to stay with him even after she was gone. So even if he tells himself he wantsto forget, he’ll never actually allow himself to—the raven’s presence won’t allow him to—and the raven is of his own making. We can agree on that much, right?”

Holy shitI wanted to kiss those smart and pensive words right off his mouth. But I forced myself to skim through them instead, thinking them over. He was right, dammit.

“I guess,” I relented. “But it’s still notadmirable, and I don’t think he’schoosingany of it. It’s dark, and ugly, and flat-out heartbreak to the point of insanity. I mean, he knows Lenore is dead but still thinks it could be her at his door, and he’s talking to abird.Real or imagined, it’s crazy…having loved someone to the point that your entire reality and sanity has been altered because of it. It’s not romantic, it’ssad.”

“And that’s why we’re not putting any of that in here,” he said, laughing under his breath as he typed some words onto the slide we were currently working on, before moving on to the next one, typing a simple:The End.

“We’re done?!” I jumped up and clapped my hands in excitement.

“We’re done,” he echoed, and I did a little victory dance of celebration.

He shook his head, smiling with one side of his mouth hitched up higher than the other, and closed his laptop, setting it onto the lounge chair beside him. Then he pulled his arms above his head, stretching as he stood. I swallowed thickly, all rational thought fleeing from my mind as I watched him—watched the muscles in his arms flexing above him.

The dimly lit water of his pool shifted and shimmered in the darkness behind him, a thin veil of steam rising from it, providing the perfect backdrop for a picture I would’ve easily punched someone in the face for. If only I’d had my damn camera.

But then? He pulled his shirt off. Walked straight to the edge of his pool, and gracefully dove in. My heart stopped beating for at least three full beats, I’m sure of it.

I stockpiled a million mental snapshots of that whole experience. Shirtless Greyson. The muscles in his back contracting as he raised his arms above his head and dove in. His abs disappearing beneath the surface of his pool, one by one in slow motion—at least that’s how it would forever remain in my memory, anyway. And him, swimming back towards me, droplets of water falling down his eyelashes and cheekbones. Down his nose, and lips, and chin.

And then I wanted to punchmyselfin the face, for not having the foresight to always have my camera with me if there was even a slight possibility that Greyson would be in the vicinity. In fact, I was pretty damn sure it would go down in history as one of the biggest missed opportunities of my life.Way to go, Jess!

I dragged my eyes away from him and pulled my socks and shoes off, tossing and kicking them to the side as I made my way over to the edge of his pool and sat down, slipping my feet into the warm water.

“Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his head as he moved closer. “Get in with me.”

I blinked. Once, twice. “What?”

“Get in the pool with me.”

“Um…” I forced myself away from the many thoughts a shirtless Greyson approaching me conjured in my mind, but all I could really manage was a, “Yeah, no, I’m good.”

He moved even closer, forcing water to splash up onto my knees. He’d stopped right in front of me, gripping the edges of the pool on both sides of my legs as his green eyes shined with mischief. “Am I going to have to pull you in?” he asked.

I forced a laugh through a shaky breath. “I have nothing to change into,” was the only reply I could come up with.

He looked at me pointedly in response.You live right down the street, his look clearly said, so his next words surprised me. “You can wear something of mine,” he offered easily, shrugging.

I’m not ashamed to admit that those words, from his mouth, had me immediately ready to do a swan dive straight into his pool. But I managed to keep my cool, sitting firmly where I was, drawing tiny circles in the dark as night water with my legs.

“Come on. One victory lap to celebrate,” he pouted, his bottom lip pushed out towards me, andthat.Is exactly.When it happened.

I broke. Hit my limit.

Officially.

Twenty-four Before

I MEAN, HEcouldn’tjustdothings like that!

He was practically beggingme to do it. To go ahead and press my mouth right up against that protruding bottom lip of his. And what other choice did I have?

None. The answer is none.

Because I couldn’t stand it any longer.