Page 44 of High Season
“You’re cold,” Blake said, a statement, not a question. There was a certainty about him that sucked something out of Hannah, made her want him.
No. Not want him, exactly. Want tobe likehim, to be part of this world, where you always have answers, rather than questions. Where things were clear and assured.
“Here.”
He took off the jacket that she had queued for and slipped it over her shoulders. The inner lining was still warm from his body. The smell of him encased her.
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand.
They walked down to the beach, Hannah’s ankles turning inward in her only pair of heels. She took them off, the sand cool against the soles of her feet. They both smelled of fresh sweat, the chemical hum of alcohol. There was a magic to the city in the early hours, shutters closed on the houses and shops that lined the seawater, the feeling that this was an impossible, nonexistent time. A witching hour where anything could happen.
“I’m so hammered,” said Blake, running his fingers through his hair, almost disbelieving.
“I had so much fun tonight,” said Hannah.
She meant it. She had always known that this world was out here. This feeling that nothing mattered. That she could go anywhere, do whatever she wanted. She had just needed someone like Blake to hold the door open for her.
The touch of his fingers was so light against her thigh that it sent a strange, deep convulsion through Hannah. She wanted him to press his hands hard against her skin. She wanted to be able to feel him. To be able to sense the contours of his bones against hers.
“I really like you, H,” Blake said. His words were quiet. Slurred. “I’ve liked you for years. Ever since we were kids.”
His hand skimmed from her body to her face. Touched her chin lightly, a tremor in his hand. An anticipation. Turned her face toward his.
“I like you, too,” she said.
When he kissed her, his mouth was hard and hungry and somehow familiar. He tasted like salt. Like heat. Like summer.
Hannah knew what would happen, even before Blake rolled on top of her. Even before his hands moved from her face to her waist, his breath coming faster, urgency radiating out of him. She knew, it seemed, exactly what to do, even though the whole thing had always seemed baffling and alien to her. Even though she and Josie had spent hours snorting with laughter as they discussed logistics—what went where, and who did what. It was as if this was how it was always supposed to be, Hannah and Blake, here on this beach, the sky blank and dark above them, the nighttime air cool and sharp against their skin.
He reached down and slid her underwear off. She was glad that she’d dressed in one of those flippy little tennis skirts, just like the girls that Blake usually hung out with. She didn’t even have to take it off.
“You’re already wet,” he said, and there was a soft surprise in his voice that made Hannah feel good about herself, like she was doing something right.
Later, Hannah would remember how rough the sand had felt beneath her. How there had been a dull pain between her legs for the next few days that sent an unexpected thrum of pleasure through her, a reminder of what had happened between them.
But, in that moment, all Hannah felt was the beating of his heart against hers. The certain knowledge that something good was finally happening to her.
It was over quickly. Afterward, Hannah pulled her underwear back up and felt the scratch of grit against her inner thighs, a wetness on the fabric.
“Fuck.”
Blake was rebuckling his belt, a dazed, disbelieving look on his face.
“That was… unexpected,” he said.
To Hannah, it was anything but. It was what she had wanted from the very first time she saw Blake, before she really even understood her own desire. Before she knew what that muscular twinge inside her even meant. There was a clean inevitability to it, the sense that everything had been leading to this moment.
From behind them came a loud, sharp wolf whistle. A whoop. Barnaby sauntering down the sand toward them, Tamara a few steps behind.
“There you are,” said Barnaby. “Wondered where you pair had disappeared to.”
He dropped down onto the sand beside them.
“Hope you two have been behaving yourself.”
“Doesn’t look like it,” said Tamara.
The words were cold and flat. Hannah ducked her head. Blake was already volleying back, making some joke about Barnaby hardly being one to talk.
