Page 7 of Summer with My Sexy Ex
And then, I race after Bristol.
bristol
The doorto my walk-in closet opens. I know who it is before I see him. Wyatt is the only person who knows this is where I come to think when I’m upset—huddled in the far corner, hidden behind years of homemade Halloween costumes painstakingly crafted by my mother. He parts the clothing and studies me momentarily, then pushes some shoes aside and sits on the floor beside me. His legs stretch alongside mine in front of us, surpassing them by almost a foot. No pun intended.
“Want to talk about it?” he asks.
I shake my head and try not to look at his bare chest. I don’t think we’ve ever sat this close together before. And I haven’t seen him without a shirt on in years. His body has changed—a lot. The slight smattering of hair on his chest is new. It looks soft, like something I want to run my fingers through. His muscles are more defined—both arms and abs. His foot brushes against mine, making my heart flutter and mouth dry. I force myself to look away before he catches me staring.
“I’m sorry about Amy,” he says. “She’s a bitch.”
“She really is,” I agree.
But you’re an ass, so you’re perfect for each other.
My fingers twitch by my side, wanting to trail over the cut ridges of his body. Or trace the tan line peeking out from the hem of his swim trunks. He’s lightly tanned but looks darker next to my pale skin. It’s the curse of being a redhead; I burn, peel, and return to pale. The only tan I’ve ever seen is the spray-on kind, unlike Amy, who looked perfectly tannedeverywhere.
I hate her. This is all her fault anyway. If she’d kept her fat mouth shut—
“Has it been a good birthday, otherwise?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts.
I shrug. I don’t want to talk. But I also don’t want him to leave. He smells like sun, beer, and man, with a hint of sweat and coconut. The combination makes me light-headed. I inhale deeply and let it out slowly, trying to be inconspicuous.
He bumps his shoulder against mine to get a verbal reaction to his question. The feel of our bare skin touching makes my muscles tense, and my core clench. I’ve made out with boys and done other stuff, but always with our clothes on. I mean, I have clothes on now, but I have to agree with what my brother said earlier, not many of them. Or not enough to keep my mind from wandering to more sexual places than my closet.
Wyatt Reed isn’t a boy; he’s a man. And he’s my brother’s best friend. Someone I’ve loved from afar for as long as I can remember. Like my brother he’s eight years older than me. Unlike my brother, he’s utter perfection on every level.
All I’ve ever wanted is to have him as my own.
“I don’t like being treated like a child,” I admit.
He nods.
“I especially don’t want you looking at me like a child,” I add.
His brow furrows. “Why’s that?”
How does he not know?
After all this time.
I cock my head, daring him to figure it out alone. He’s not stupid.
Because, Wyatt, I love you with all my heart.
“Until yesterday, youwerea child, Brie,” he says.
That’swhat he’s going with?
“Really?” My voice rises. “You think that?”
He scoffs. “Not when you wear shit like that, no.”
So, he did notice.
His gaze travels down my body and back up. He closes his eyes and bangs his head a few times against the wall, groaning.
His hands clench at his sides and release. He’s frustrated.
