Page 19 of Eye of the Hurricane (Weathering Doves Harbor #2)
“I can’t even count how many times your brother told me that their—” Beck tosses his head towards Audra and Roman, who are currently running the shoreline splashing water at one another.
“…thing was complicated.” He pushes his coils out of his face and turns his hat backwards.
“I’ll give you the same advice I gave him.
It’s only complicated if you let it be. Uncomplicate it. ” He shrugs.
“It’s not me, it’s her. I know what I want,” I tell him.
“Take it from me, don’t miss your shot. If you lose the one, you don’t move past that,” he says, an uncharacteristic solemnness blanketing his features.
I make a mental note to ask Roman the backstory around that.
I know Beck would tell me if I asked, but it doesn’t seem like the kind of story you want to tell your best friend’s little brother while you’re tipsy.
“Noted.” I give him a firm nod of the head.
All of the color drains from the sky until it’s a navy blue canvas littered with constellations. At some point, we all worked our way back to the campsite where we’re all sat around the fire.
Most everyone is in some variation of sweatpants, hoodies, and pajamas. Except Kat, of course. She’s back in her strapless dress from this morning.
Everyone seems to have turned it up a notch. The girls who were drunk before are now a few small steps away from being wasted. The guys who were only tipsy before are now drunk.
Ravyn takes it upon herself to get out the Bluetooth speaker and blare some country mix. A few songs come and go before Dan and Shay’s “Speechless” comes on. Katherine’s eyes turn into giant blue orbs before she leaps to her feet.
“I love this song!” she yells, pulling at my hands.
“Kat, please put on my hoodie,” I plead.
“Dance with me?” she asks, ignoring my plea.
“If you put the hoodie on. You’re freezing.”
“Deal. ”
I pull the hoodie up over my head, leaving me in just sweatpants and a black T-shirt. She takes it from me, slipping it over her.
The bottom of her yellow dress pokes out of the hoodie by just a couple inches. It might look a little ridiculous on someone else. On her, it looks perfect. I think the girl could wear a used trash bag and I’d still think she looks like a princess in it.
“You said we’d dance,” she says, grabbing my hand and yanking me closer to the speaker.
“Ever slow-danced?” I ask her. She shakes her head dramatically.
“You can pop my cherry,” she says with a hiccup.
“Please don’t talk about me popping your cherry when we’re in a group of people,” I whisper, leaning down into her ear. Goosebumps rise on her skin when my breath hits her neck.
Her hands reach up and wrap around my neck, interlocking behind my head. My hands snake around her waist and settle at the small of her back. What we’re doing is a lazy excuse for dancing but if it puts me in her bubble, I’ll take it.
We sway softly to the song. We don’t say a word either, we just soak each other in. Somehow, this feels more intimate than last night. One of her arms lowers slightly and she rests her head against my chest.
We’re still swaying as “Speechless” ends and the beginning of another track starts.
No one else is dancing, but they’re all too drunk to care.
I don’t know what’s playing now and I find that as Kat and I continue to hold each other, I don’t really care.
The blissful silence between us could stretch on forever at this rate. If we’re lucky, it just might.
Just as I think we really will stay in this moment forever, a new song starts. This one is upbeat and must be one that she loves because her head springs off me, squealing.
“Oh my gosh! I’ve always dreamed about being one of those girls who dances on a table in movies,” she gushes, eyeing up the fold-up table that holds our food and drinks. She takes a couple of long strides toward it before I swipe her off the ground.
“Yep, bedtime,” I announce, walking toward the tent.
“What! No fair,” she pouts, going limp in my arms.
“You’ll thank me in the morning, Kat. I promise.” I set her down gently on the bed. “Is this what you want to sleep in?”
“I wanna sleep in my birthday suit,” she sings. Jesus.
“We’re in the middle of the woods, honey. You’ve got to wear clothes. Are these the ones you want to wear?” I ask again. She sticks her bottom lip out but doesn’t answer the question.
“Can I take your makeup off for you?” She nods. I reach for the packet of makeup wipes that are sitting on top of her pink makeup bag. I pull one out and gently wipe at every inch of her face. Surprisingly, she works with me, shutting her eyes when I ask and opening when I tell her to.
“Clothes, honey. Are these the ones you want to wear to bed?” She shakes her head shoulder to shoulder like a toddler.
“What do you want to wear?” I ask. She’s not making it particularly easy to put her to bed. Although, what drunk person does?
“Yours,” she states simply, tugging at the string of my sweatpants.
“These?” I ask, pointing first to my sweats, then to my shirt. She hums a sound of approval. It’s a silly request if you ask me, but who I am to tell the prettiest girl in the world no? She’d be hard-pressed to find something I won’t give to her.
“Can I undress you?” I ask. She nods. I pull my hoodie up over her head, then her dress. She’s got on a strapless bra that’s cutting into her ribs. “Do you want this off too?” I ask.
“Yes, please.” I reach behind her back and unsnap the clasp. It falls loose and I somehow find the restraint to keep my eyes on hers.
I pull my shirt up over my head and put it on her. She’s swimming in it and her now hard nipples are pressed firmly into the fabric.
Next is my sweatpants, which I slip off of myself. I stand her up, letting her hold on to me for stability and help her pull them up. She’s now dressed head to toe in my clothes. She looks better in my clothes than I do. She looks good—she looks like mine.
I crawl onto the air mattress and she curls up right next to me, nuzzling her head into my chest.
“I’m having so much fun, thank you for inviting me,” she says softly.
“Thank you for coming,” I reply, kissing the top of her head.
I feel indescribably lucky to be here with her. Bringing Kat on our camping trip isn’t a situation I could have even dreamed up. But that’s always how it is with her, reality better than dreams.