Page 9 of A Summer Thing

Chapter Six

Declan

The Oklahoma heat is something else. There’s nothing quite like it.

The way it masquerades as a literal furnace, seeping warmth into your entire body until it feels like the heat is working its way through you from the inside out.

I imagine it’s what it would feel like to be a rotisserie chicken, skewered and slowly spinning over an open flame. Skin crisping, insides melting.

Maybe that’s a tad dramatic, or maybe it’s because I’m from California where the mid-nineties are considered sweltering and the low hundreds unbearable.

Whatever it is, though, it’s hot.

Even with my feet in the water, my body sprawled across a pool float, my hair still damp, and a spiked lemonade in my hand—courtesy of Addy—I can still feel the sun sucking every drop of moisture from my body. The vodka lemonades might not be helping, but they sure do taste good.

I sip the last bit in my cup through a straw, making a slurping noise against the mostly melted ice.

“Another?” Addy asks with a laugh.

“Yes, please.” I cheese. It’s a smile fueled by sweet lemonade, blazing sunshine, and mind-numbing vodka. The best kind of smile, maybe.

Addy pulls our float to the edge of her pool, and her cooler cracks open before ice is being clunked into my glass, the weight of cool, spiked lemonade being poured in last.

“Thank you,” I tell her, bringing the straw to my lips and swallowing half of it down in one go.

Fishing out a couple pieces of ice, I squeeze them inside my fist. Coldness bites at my palm as I hold it over Addy’s torso, chilled drops meeting her skin.

She squeals and slaps my hand away, and I laugh as I move my fist over my own stomach, letting the water sprinkle down on me.

I move it up my chest and over my neck before working my way back down, droplets of water falling onto my legs until there’s nothing left in my palm.

Dropping my hand back into the pool, I glide my fingers through the water, slowly spinning the float we’re laying on.

I close my eyes, inhale a deep, intentional breath, and slowly set it free.

It’s the kind of moment I’ve been subconsciously waiting for. One not shackled by fear, or doubt, or anxiety, but one that’s… simple, easy, quiet.

One that’s infused with… life.

______

The short, harsh burst of Cal’s whistle tears me from my reverie.

I open my eyes and lift my head, spotting the football players littering the Masons’ field. If it weren’t so hot out here, I’m sure I’d feel the warmth of my blush flooding my cheeks, not at all able to help myself as I scan the field for Jude.

Two full sleeves of tattoos —there.

Number thirty-three.

And… yeah. Cal’s guys aren’t in full gear this time, but the practice wear still hugs every inch of their toned bodies. And they’re not running drills this time, either. Just moving together in a perfect synchrony of stretches and exercises that are impossible to look away from.

Five minutes, ten, fifteen later, and I’m still watching.

I’d feel guilty about it if Addy weren’t, too.

Clearing my throat, I look away as the group of them take off into a run.

“Three miles!” Cal shouts at them. “Let’s go! Let’s hustle!”

The wave of them washes through the yard, hard feet hitting the grass as they pass the pool area and head out through the front gate to the road ahead.

“Holy hell, those boys are hot,” Addy comments, breaking our stretch of silence.

“Holy hell, indeed.” I crack up, and in my effort not to gawk any more than I already have, I lose track of Jude completely. “Damn,” I mutter under my breath. And then I silently admonish myself for being so blatantly… What? Desperate for another glimpse? For him to look at me?

To know where we stand, the whispered thought intrudes.

I can admit that I don’t know what to expect when I come face-to-face with him again.

A smile? A friendly, Hello? That already familiar, signature scowl of his, and that brutal stare, and all of that…

intensity he radiates? There’s no other word for it, the way his energy pushes all life outside of a room until it feels like the only other heart beating inside of it is his.

It’s intense.

When we were out on Boss’s balcony last night, despite having just clawed my way from the depths of a panic attack, I didn’t feel anyone’s presence but his.

I can’t even recall now if there were other people outside when I finally stood up and managed to walk away, heading back into the party to find Addy.

It sounds ridiculous. I know it does. I’ve known Jude for all of a day and a half. But there’s this inexplicable something about him. Something that allows my inner chaos to be put at ease.

That doesn’t usually happen to me. Not with anyone but Addy.

But Jude, from what I’ve seen so far, seems like someone who has walls built around him stretching a mile high.

So why is it that when he looks at me, I feel like I can breathe?

My thoughts settle, and the world quiets, and I can feel myself just be.

It’s the exact opposite of what I should be feeling when someone looks at me like that.

Like I’m every mistake he doesn’t plan on making.

I wonder if it’s just me, or if everyone feels that way around him—intentionally pushed outside his bounds but feeling called inside of them anyway. A gravitational pull that’s impossible to ignore.

“Hey, girls!” Cal’s adoring, soothing voice interrupts my musings, putting an immediate smile on my face. Resting his elbows on the fence surrounding the pool, he gives us one of his megawatt grins.

“Hey, Cal.” My smile stretches wider.

“Hi, Dad,” Addy greets.

“And what are my girls up to today?” He folds his arms together, giving us his full attention.

“Not much,” Addy answers with a shrug. “Just hanging out. We’re meeting up with some friends later tonight, though.”

Cal hums in response. “You’ll stick around for lunch, then? I’m planning on grilling up some meat, and Mom’s going to make her famous potato salad.”

“Ooh. Yes, yes. That sounds delicious,” I say, practically drooling over the thought of it.

Addy laughs. “Yeah, we’ll stick around, Daddy.”

“Alright, sounds good.” He pats the fence two times and straightens.

“And where are you headed off to tonight, exactly?” he asks, squinting against the sunlight, and he and Addy get into all the specifics—the who, what, when, where, and why.

It warms my heart that he cares about that kind of stuff, even as Addy grumbles beside me.

“We are eighteen now, you know,” she mumbles under her breath, and I nudge her with an elbow, doing my best to keep a smile off my face.

Cal’s attention is redirected, though, as football players flood back into the yard.

“And that’s my cue,” he says before stalking off toward his guys, Coach-mode reactivated.

He hollers at them and calls them into a huddle.

Muffled shouts can be heard from behind their solid wall of muscle, a final grunt, grunt, grunt of some sort ringing loud and clear before they all break apart and head off in different directions.

Boss makes a beeline for Addy, bravely giving her a sweaty kiss that makes her squeal and briefly tips the float we’re laying on.

Lucky for him, I don’t hear any shots being fired, so Cal must not have seen it.

Pretty ballsy move, though, is the thought crossing my mind, the one tipping my lips in an amused grin, when I’m caught by Jude’s stare.

He stands at the edge of the Masons’ porch, the storm of his gaze calm for maybe the first time since I ran into him in the hallway the other night, and it’s glued to mine.

It’s only a quick blip of a moment that we share.

A smile, on my end. A dip of his head in my direction, on his—with that I think may have been a smirk but could have just been a play of the sunlight dancing on his face, but he retreats into the house before I can be sure.

I let out an involuntary sigh.

That was… better than I could have hoped for, I guess.

Addy scoots closer. “Be careful with that one,” she says.

I roll my head on the float to face her. “What? What do you mean? Why?”

She shrugs. “He’s… He’s…”

“What?” I laugh, even though her demeanor is leaving me feeling uneasy.

“It’s just that—well, he’s real secretive, that one. And he can be a little mean. It worries me, for you.”

“For me?” I attempt to brush off her seriousness with my light tone. “Addy, I’ve shaken the guy’s hand one time—have hardly even had a conversation with him. And he doesn’t seem to like me all that much, so I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Her smile is a careful, knowing one. “Sure. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you.

And more than that, I’ve seen the way you look at him, and I have never in all my years of loving you, seen you look at anyone like that, Declan.

Like you might be interested. I think you could grow to like him, and I just want you to be careful. ”

Careful. Careful, careful, careful, her word weeds through my mind.

Careful is exhausting. Careful is navigating invisible bounds, walking on eggshells, and holding words inside until they knot like a fist in my throat.

Careful is holding myself back from the things I want and playing it safe.

Careful is one of the many things I promised myself I would try to leave behind.

And maybe that’s the draw. Nothing about Jude screams careful.

“He doesn’t seem all that bad,” I find myself saying.

“Intimidating, sure—with one hell of a scowl. But maybe just a bit… misunderstood?” Truthfully, I wouldn’t have expected him to help me out last night—not just once, but twice—and it was a kind thing to do, even if his demeanor doesn’t necessarily ooze kindness, either.