Page 3
Story: Perfect Pursuit
Now, the only thing I can pray is that Ethan can’t smell my arousal from his touch—the way my breath hitched when he smoothed his hands up and down my calf after he caught me in his arms when I tripped in my heels before almost face planting in the graduation cake I’m supposed to share with my best friend—his niece!—and about a third of our high school.
At the moment, I need to put some distance between the two of us before I do something like jump up, wrap my legs around his waist, and dig my heels into his lower back. Trying to calm his agitation, I soothe him. “I’m fine. I just got my foot caught.”
“And almost went flying into a cake.” At the stern tone of his voice, my nipples pebble behind the lace of my demi bra.
“You came to the rescue.”
His next words almost make me fall off the lounger I’m sitting on. “I always will.”
Trying to regain some semblance of calm, I drag my clutch from where I tossed it at the lounge bend. Snapping it open, I whip out my cell and immediately begin texting. An aggravated expression crosses his face before his eyes roll heavenward. “What? Are you telling Austyn about this?”
My lips twist. “Hell no. I’m just marking the date and time in my calendar so I can use it against you in the future.”
He wants to laugh. Like so many nights since we met officially a few months ago, I really want to be that person who breaks through that wall and is the one who makes him do just that. Instead, he swipes my phone from my hand.
Curious, but not concerned, I ask, “And you did what, exactly?”
“When you and Austyn get into trouble at UT, text me. Do not contact my sister or your mother. They’ll have a heart attack at your shenanigans.”
A warmth that has nothing to do with sexuality spreads through me. I reach for my phone and for a moment, our fingertips touch. Neither of us moves away.
Our eyes lock—blue to green.
His words were a kind of gift—a protection I’ve never experienced. I grew up without a father, not because he didn’t want to be there, but due to a freak trucking accident wasn’t able to be. My mother mourned him in ways I never quite understood until I got older. He was the love of her life and she wasn’t about to dishonor his memory with stand-ins when she knew what true love was.
Still, it left me never knowing what it was to have a strong man to catch me when I fell, to lay my worries on. Or to just wrap my arms around. Ethan can’t appreciate the beauty of what he just offered me, but I can’t let it go unacknowledged. “Why am I not surprised? Before you, no one’s ever tried to rescue me before.”
His brow furrows. I know he wants to ask more, but the back door of the Kensington estate seems to explode as kids from my senior class come racing out. With much practice, I lock away my frailty and bound over to my best friend to celebrate the next stage of our lives.
The unknown.
CHAPTER THREE
KENSINGTON, TEXAS
Snowy-T’s team allegedly sent emails from 270 fake accounts to stop “Campaign Snowstorm.” For those not in the know, Snowy-T has been accused of adding stimulants to guests’ drinks without permission, as broken by celebrity news reporter Joanna Heart. The intent of these emails was to discredit the reporter.
Sorry, Snowy. You’re still stuck in the blizzard.
—Sexy&Social, All the Scandal You Can Handle
Five Years Ago—September
I pull back from leaning in to give my date a perfunctory kiss on the cheek when I hear a distinctive ping on my cell phone—the one assigned to the witch who has been invading my thoughts since she left Kensington a few weeks ago for her college adventure. Stepping back, I excuse myself. “I apologize. I have to look at this.”
The kindergarten teacher who has been dropping in to the shop with varying equipment from her classroom and chatting me up narrows brown eyes at me. Her previously dewy expression to in the past turns mutinous before she snaps, “Who is it?”
I don’t acknowledge her acerbic comment before I read the outcry of help from Fallon. An amused chuckle escapes from the back of my throat after my heart calms down.
Fallon:
Help.. Save?
Ethan:
What the fuck happened?
Fallon:
At the moment, I need to put some distance between the two of us before I do something like jump up, wrap my legs around his waist, and dig my heels into his lower back. Trying to calm his agitation, I soothe him. “I’m fine. I just got my foot caught.”
“And almost went flying into a cake.” At the stern tone of his voice, my nipples pebble behind the lace of my demi bra.
“You came to the rescue.”
His next words almost make me fall off the lounger I’m sitting on. “I always will.”
Trying to regain some semblance of calm, I drag my clutch from where I tossed it at the lounge bend. Snapping it open, I whip out my cell and immediately begin texting. An aggravated expression crosses his face before his eyes roll heavenward. “What? Are you telling Austyn about this?”
My lips twist. “Hell no. I’m just marking the date and time in my calendar so I can use it against you in the future.”
He wants to laugh. Like so many nights since we met officially a few months ago, I really want to be that person who breaks through that wall and is the one who makes him do just that. Instead, he swipes my phone from my hand.
Curious, but not concerned, I ask, “And you did what, exactly?”
“When you and Austyn get into trouble at UT, text me. Do not contact my sister or your mother. They’ll have a heart attack at your shenanigans.”
A warmth that has nothing to do with sexuality spreads through me. I reach for my phone and for a moment, our fingertips touch. Neither of us moves away.
Our eyes lock—blue to green.
His words were a kind of gift—a protection I’ve never experienced. I grew up without a father, not because he didn’t want to be there, but due to a freak trucking accident wasn’t able to be. My mother mourned him in ways I never quite understood until I got older. He was the love of her life and she wasn’t about to dishonor his memory with stand-ins when she knew what true love was.
Still, it left me never knowing what it was to have a strong man to catch me when I fell, to lay my worries on. Or to just wrap my arms around. Ethan can’t appreciate the beauty of what he just offered me, but I can’t let it go unacknowledged. “Why am I not surprised? Before you, no one’s ever tried to rescue me before.”
His brow furrows. I know he wants to ask more, but the back door of the Kensington estate seems to explode as kids from my senior class come racing out. With much practice, I lock away my frailty and bound over to my best friend to celebrate the next stage of our lives.
The unknown.
CHAPTER THREE
KENSINGTON, TEXAS
Snowy-T’s team allegedly sent emails from 270 fake accounts to stop “Campaign Snowstorm.” For those not in the know, Snowy-T has been accused of adding stimulants to guests’ drinks without permission, as broken by celebrity news reporter Joanna Heart. The intent of these emails was to discredit the reporter.
Sorry, Snowy. You’re still stuck in the blizzard.
—Sexy&Social, All the Scandal You Can Handle
Five Years Ago—September
I pull back from leaning in to give my date a perfunctory kiss on the cheek when I hear a distinctive ping on my cell phone—the one assigned to the witch who has been invading my thoughts since she left Kensington a few weeks ago for her college adventure. Stepping back, I excuse myself. “I apologize. I have to look at this.”
The kindergarten teacher who has been dropping in to the shop with varying equipment from her classroom and chatting me up narrows brown eyes at me. Her previously dewy expression to in the past turns mutinous before she snaps, “Who is it?”
I don’t acknowledge her acerbic comment before I read the outcry of help from Fallon. An amused chuckle escapes from the back of my throat after my heart calms down.
Fallon:
Help.. Save?
Ethan:
What the fuck happened?
Fallon:
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