Page 4 of Tied up in Knots (Gummy Bear Orgy #4)

I literally have nothing left to lose

Leaving without saying goodbye to Warren to drive Gigi home, probably wasn’t the most mature move but it’s the one I made.

Watching him enjoy himself all night and listening to people talk about him leaving, just made me sadder, to the point I didn’t want to be there anymore.

So, when Gigi asked me to drive her home, I jumped on it.

I had planned on driving back to my apartment and returning her car tomorrow but apparently, I’m really into self-torture and decided to sit on the back porch like a stalker and wait for Warren to come home.

If he comes home. I wouldn’t be surprised if he took the opportunity to be with a girl tonight.

We all know how popular he is with them around town.

Always available for a night or two, never more though.

Watching him go home with women was hard enough. I couldn’t imagine what watching him with a girlfriend would be like. He’s never had one. Nothing past a few dates in high school at least.

The wooden porch swing Warren made for Gigi years ago, sways under my weight.

The bright blue ropes holding it up in an intricate pattern of knotting I wasn’t aware Warren knew how to make.

I run my fingers along the fibers worn smooth from excessive use, picturing his callused strong hands tying the beautiful pattern.

I’ve often found myself in this very spot, mind wandering while I stare out at the softly lapping waves of the ocean water against the rocky shore.

It’s always been my peaceful place to think or not think and just let my mind go blank.

There’s not much of a beach to speak of in this area but that never stopped us from enjoying the water when it gets warm enough.

Jumping off the end of the dock was more than sufficient.

Picturing the four of us as kids, running from the back door and racing to see who would be the first to the water, has me smiling to myself.

I never won but that didn’t matter to me.

Being with my friends is what mattered. Sitting on the end of the dock with our feet dangling while we ate popsicles, laughing until we cried watching the boys wrestle till they fell in, having whispered giggle fests with Izzy, and realizing I was sexually attracted to Warren the summer I turned fifteen while watching him dive into the ocean shirtless, that’s what matters.

Once again, like it has a few times before, the thought to tell Warren how I feel about him makes its way to the forefront of my mind.

I’ve considered it in the past but always talked myself out of it.

Always picturing his rejection and disgust, then the following awkwardness until I finally became a hermit and never went out into public again.

But now…

Now he’ll be leaving in a week. Now, there’s no risk of awkwardness or breaking up the group, because he’s already breaking it up by leaving. If he rejects me, I only have to avoid him for a few days. I literally have nothing left to lose.

If he were to leave and never return, I would be forever regretful for not at least trying.

For putting it out there to see what happened.

It would always be a ‘what if’ lingering in the back of my mind.

I already compare every guy I’m with to him— even though most of it is hypothetical and based on nothing but my imagination—at least this way I could move past him if he rejected me.

He would never be the one who got away because I would have at least tried.

I’ve dreamed of kissing Warren for years.

Wondering what his lips would feel like against mine.

If he would be a heavy, hard kisser with lots of tongue, or a soft kisser using light touches to entice.

I can imagine him doing both and wouldn’t mind either.

Just as long as I could experience it once in my life. That’s all I want. Just once.

But when could I possibly attempt this incomprehensible feat?

At our next dinner with Gigi? On our last group outing?

Perhaps while standing on the dock waving goodbye?

I could just smack a kiss right on him without warning and no time to react.

None seem like an ideal time. Like all other times I would chicken out and be right back where I started.

Tonight maybe? I could wait till he gets home then go talk to him alone, under the cover of darkness and with a little liquid courage still in my system and him more amenable with liquor in his. Maybe I could even get that kiss.

Half past twelve is when I start to think he has gone home with someone and won’t be coming back to his boat tonight. My built-up courage dwindles with every minute that ticks by.

I should probably head inside. Go to bed.

Forget all about confessing my long-concealed crush and just accept it’s never going to happen.

It’s only getting colder, and although I’m wrapped up tight inside a heavy quilt I helped Gigi make for the county fair years ago, I can’t stay out here forever.

I’ll just end up with pneumonia or frostbite.

Before I can conjure up the energy to rise and go inside, I hear footsteps crunching on the gravel drive. Either it’s a burglar come to rob me, or it’s Warren.

I sit perfectly still waiting to see who rounds the back of the house before freaking out and calling the cops. A shadowed figure appears and bypasses the stairs to the back porch, hands in pockets, and heading straight for the dock. I’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

Warren strides down the length of the wooden wharf, a slowness to his steps. I watch as he approaches the bow and slows to a stop. He stares out at the water before pivoting to stare back up at the house.

Ah fuck. He’s totally gonna see me watching him.

Like a freak, instead of acknowledging him and waving, I hold the bench swing still with the toe of my foot on the ground.

I already have the quilt cocooned around me, so I use it as natural camouflage in the darkness of the shadow of the house.

It’s near pitch black out and I didn’t bother with the porch light so he shouldn’t be able to see me, as long as I remain still.

Why am I hiding? Wasn’t I just contemplating how to approach him to confess my feelings? Wouldn’t this be a perfect opportunity?

Of course it would be. That’s why I freeze like a deer in the headlights, validating Warren’s nickname for me even more. Warren eventually turns back around having not noticed me, and steps aboard his boat and into the cabin below. A light flicks on inside the space, and I watch motionless.

God I’m such a weirdo.

Pulling together all the sanity and bravado I possess, I extricate myself from the quilt, shivering in the cold night air, and make my way to Warren’s boat. Hyping myself up the entire way with words of affirmation that he’s going to accept and return my affection. One can only hope right?

I wrap my arms around my waist and rub my cotton clad arms. I’m wearing a long sleeve thermal but it’s fucking cold out. I don’t know how Warren managed to walk all the way here from the bar without freezing. Probably all the alcohol warming him up.

Standing at the precipice of my futur e _ and Warren’s boa t _ I watch through the windows as he moves around shifting things from here to there.

He’s removed his jacket and must have turned on his hydronic heating system.

It’s something he bragged about installing with how efficient it is with its on demand hot water and ability to heat the space quickly.

Being inside in the warmth sounds really nice right about now.

Carefully I step from the wood planks of the dock, on to the lip of his boat and hoist myself in with the help of the thin flexible railing. The Knotty Boy isn’t a luxury cruise liner by any means, but it’s big enough for international water travel. Spanning forty feet it has everything he’ll need.

I marvel at the amount of work he’s done since first purchasing it.

There were holes in the hull, it needed a new sail and practically every engine part imaginable.

I don’t think there’s a part of it he didn’t refurbish.

But it had good bones, and the mast was sturdy, making for a great starting point.

A few times all of us pitched in to help with one thing or another.

Mainly painting since I’m not very handy with a hammer or any tool for that matter.

But place a paint brush in my hand and I can paint you a whole house in a day.

Stepping down into the cockpit, I circle the helm, running my fingers along the smooth polished wood, and approach the door to the cabin below. I suck in a steadying breath and knock.

It takes less than five seconds for Warren to climb the ladder like stairs and pull the door open. Fucking shirtless. Again. Doesn’t he know it’s like forty degrees’ outside right now?

I stare down at his tattooed bronze skin stunned, because what the hell else am I supposed to do when he answers the door half naked?

“Bambi. What are you doing here? It’s freezing outside.”

He doesn’t wait for me to explain why I’m knocking on his door at nearly one in the morning in the freezing cold weather and pulls me in by the hand.

It’s far warmer inside and I climb down the few stairs into the cabin.

It’s an all-in-one area with a small kitchen in one corner, a built-in couch on the other and a small dinette that’s bolted to the floor with a bench seat along the outer wall.