Page 19 of A Summer Thing

Chapter Eleven

Jude

Two quick, soft raps sound at my door. I pad across my bedroom and crack it open to a smiling Declan. She stands there in a pair of pajama shorts, and a thin, white shirt—no bra in sight. I shut the door in her face. Her beautiful, bare, astonished face.

“Nope.” I shake my head, raking a hand through my hair and pressing my other palm against the door to keep it shut.

Declan doesn’t take any offense. She knows me well enough at this point to know the brusque attitude isn’t about her. I only hear her chuckle through a soft, “Sorry, sorry, be right back,” followed by the sound of her door clicking shut across the hallway.

Immediately—and I mean fucking immediately—my mind strays back to the white shirt she was wearing, pebbled nipples I could clearly see right through it. What the fuck was she thinking?

Despite the exhaustion tearing at my limbs, despite the weight today brings, my dick swells behind my sweats. I don’t have the strength to keep my mind from the gutter and my hands to myself. Not today.

But I still can’t shake this ominous feeling. Can’t shake the darkness this date rains down on my soul.

All day, since the moment I cracked my lids open this morning, a long string of reminders from well-intentioned family and friends lighting up my phone—

Thinking of you. xx

Hugging you extra hard from 1,400 miles away.

I love you, sweetie. Call me if you want to talk.

Love you, bro.

Can’t believe how long it’s been, man. Hope you’re doing well.

—my heart has been heavier, throat thicker, emotions too damn close to the surface, a hair trigger from erupting.

It’s taken all my strength to keep them at bay.

Groaning, I drag my focus elsewhere—to my setup in front of me. I turn my computer on and log in as I wait for Declan to return.

She knocks on my door a handful of minutes later, only once this time before letting herself in. She’s wearing a sweater now, but her legs are still on full display. Tanned and toned and stretching on for miles.

“Better?” she says with a slight curl to her lips.

I glance away and back at the monitor. “Yeah,” I respond, but my voice is filled with gravel, need clawing at my insides.

I don’t have the willpower to put on a front right now.

Nor the willpower to look at this girl and not just fucking want her.

Shutting off the monitor, I come to a stand.

“You mind watching a movie tonight instead? My head is in a weird fucking place, and I’m not sure I can focus on this shit right now.

” I go with a level of honesty I wasn’t prepared to go with.

Her brows pull together, the closest thing to a frown taking over, as if she’s taken one good look at me and sensed something amiss. That darkness within me that calls to her own.

I brace myself for the inevitable questions, but they don’t come. Her features smooth instead, a look of understanding reaching her gaze. “Well, we certainly can’t watch a movie without snacks now, can we? Should we head downstairs and see what we can find?”

Every taut muscle in my body eases. “Yeah. Sounds good, Little D,” I respond, the words a breath of reprieve, and we head downstairs together.

She ducks into the pantry as soon as we hit the kitchen, carrying out an assortment of snacks. A family-sized bag of Doritos, peanut butter M&Ms, a box of popcorn, strawberry Pop-Tarts, and a handful of other stragglers. She spills them onto the island counter with a wide smile bracketing her face.

“Cal and Stacy always have the best snacks,” she practically moans. “Second favorite part of my summers right there.” She nods at the walk-in pantry, smile stretching farther with her excitement.

The sentiment nearly reaches my lips, tugging at the edges. Not exactly what I was expecting when I imagined how I’d be spending tonight, but this might be better.

Without a doubt , it’s fucking better.

Declan leans back against the counter after tossing a bag of popcorn into the microwave and slides the box of Pop-Tarts closer to her.

I mimic her movement, resting against the counter opposite her and folding my arms across my chest. “What’s the first?” I question.

“Hmm?” she responds, glancing up at me through her lashes as she tears the packet open, studying the pastry in her hand before tearing off one piece of the crust at a time.

“You said they’re your second favorite part of your summers, the snacks. What’s your first?”

“Addy, Cal, and Stacy, of course,” she says with a shrug, as if the answer is obvious.

And now that she’s said it, I suppose it is.

“They’re my family,” she adds. “In all the ways that matter. So my favorite part of my summers is those three, always.” She glances down at her feet for a short beat to compose herself, before meeting my stare once more, blue eyes shining.

Eyes as deep and vast as the ocean, pulling.

Pulling, and pulling, me right the fuck in.

I clear my throat and scan the room. “You’re lucky to have them—the Masons,” I return. “As lucky as I’m sure they feel to have you.”

“Thank you,” she says softly. “That’s a really nice thing to say.”

I open my mouth on a response, but the popping in the microwave increases, the sound filling the room. Declan hands me the second Pop-Tart from her package, and I bite through the corner.

“No. No, no, no, you’re eating it all wrong,” she immediately comments.

I eye her, chewing through strawberry and dry dough. When I get it down, I clear my throat. “You’re saying there’s a right way to eat a Pop-Tart,” I deadpan.

She huffs out a laugh, as if it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s heard. “Of course there is, Jude. Watch and learn.” She tears open a new packet and hands me one pastry as she takes the other.

I feel my own lips ticking up in response.

Only this girl could get me to smile on a day like this.

I humor her, following her lead. Eating the pastry crust first, separating the top half from the bottom with a careful slide, and popping the bottom into my mouth, followed by the frosted top, chewing around the sweetness.

I’m not really seeing the point, but it’s alright, I suppose. As good as a Pop-Tart can be.

“Better, right?” she asks, eyes anxious and bright, and I have to chew through my goddamn smile.

“Better,” I lie, and her triumphant expression is worth it.

The microwave beeps, dragging us from the moment. She quickly moves to stop it before it continues and potentially wakes up the rest of the house.

“Okay, you ready?” Her smile stretches farther.

“Ready,” I respond.

And— she never asks.

Not as we pile up the snacks and bring them upstairs to wolf down without a second thought.

Not as we settle onto my bed, getting comfortable and choosing a movie for the night.

Not as we watch Gone in Sixty Seconds , and the end credits roll.

Not as she falls asleep on the bed beside me, and I click off the light, and kiss her forehead goodnight.

She never asks.

It’s a fact I’m thankful for. The distraction, rather than an interrogation.

But it strikes me, right through the center of my fucking chest, that if I were going to tell anyone what’s been weighing on me, it would be her.

______

I wake the next morning to the feel of Declan’s warm body trapped beneath mine.

My cock is aching, hard as a rock against her thigh. Thankfully, she’s asleep and none the wiser. I didn’t intend to invade her space, blanketing half her body with the weight of mine. But my sleep-addled brain had other ideas. Obviously.

I groan, wiping a hand down my face as I peel myself from her soft curves but stall, perched at the edge of my bed. I lean forward, elbows to my knees, and steal a glance at her from beneath my arm.

Still sleeping soundly.

Gratitude slinks through me, grateful for her presence, and the ease she brought last night. The feeling bleeds into that of this morning, a sense of tranquility still residing within me.

Attraction, flirting, this baser need I feel for her aside, we’ve built a genuine friendship. One I’m more thankful for than I ever thought I could be.

Never mind that my cock twitches at the sight of her sleepy eyes, and parted, full mouth. Begging me to do more than just sleep beside her. To explore what she feels like. With my hands, my cock, my mouth.

And fuck because I’m already running behind.

But now I need to go rub one out before practice. Unless I want all those assholes to know just how hard this girl makes me.