Page 21 of Dare You to Run
“Weain’t watching nothing. Dagen and I are having a girls night. So be gone with you stinky boys. Y’all need a shower. C’mon cornbread sis. Time to gossip.” Kinsley drags me to her truck and retrieves her overnight bag.
We shuffle across the driveway and bound up the sleek metal stairs that lead to a balcony overlooking the luscious backyard, complete with swimming pool, and through the sliding doors.
She drops to her back with a thud, then turns to me and says, “I thought y’all were gonna start a forest fire with how hot you’re burning for each other.”
I knit my brows at her and shake my head. “You’re crazy. He’s an asshole. A very generous one, but an ass nonetheless.”
She purses her lips, holding back a smirk and says, “Hm. But you gotta admit. That boy, despite being a prickly thorn on your hiney, is delicious. And you, my new bestie, looked like you were ready to gobble him up with a side of barbeque sauce.”
I laugh awkwardly because I’d rather drink him down like ice cold water on a scorching day. He could definitely quench all my cravings.
A choking like snort pulls me from an uncomfortable sleep. Kinsley is passed out on her side of the bed, arms spread like a starfish and half hanging off the bed. The sound that pours out from that tiny mouth of hers is ungodly.
I climb out of bed and stretch my arms high above my head, working the kinks out of my spine and shoulders. Kinsley and I stayed up talking until our eyes slammed shut. She spilled more information about Hendrix, Malik and Danté than an overturned semi full of eggs. Apparently the three of them have quite the reputation amongst the women in Cattywump Bay, and likely beyond the borders. It was a reminder that I should stay far away from a man like Hendrix Dare.
But as exhausted as I was having an extremely eventful last three days, my mind was full of worry. Worry over my classes, my parents, feeling guilty for the trouble I’ve caused, and it kept me tossing and turning.
I tiptoe to the chair sitting in the corner of the room and grab the sweatshirt that I threw over it last night, and pull it over my cherry pajama set. Kinsley dons the matching ones because what else do new besties do but buy matching pj’s for a sleepover.
Quietly I walk out of the room and slide the back door open, stepping out onto the patio. The air is chilled and I pull the sweatshirt tighter around my body. I spot a beautiful deck with teak wood and black metal chairs sitting at the edge of the pool,and descend the stairs until the cool grass tickles between my toes.
It’s crisp with a cool breeze, but the sky is ablaze in orange as the sun rises, making it look like the clouds are on fire. I sit on the lounger and pull my legs up, cuddling into myself. Laying my head back, I close my eyes to soak in the warm rays. It’s peaceful and the soft sound of the water fountain’s trickling water has me dozing off within moments.
I jolt when I hear the shutting of a door and my eyes fly open, my heart in my throat. I stay silent waiting to see who or what will come into view. The padam padam of my heart beats loud in my ears and sweat beads on my hairline. I watch a shadow grow larger as it comes closer and I hold my breath.
Hendrix walks by, not seeing me sitting on the chair, and stands at the edge of the pool, a coffee cup in his hand. But the cup isn’t what has me picking my jaw off the chair. It’s the gorgeous, shirtless man, covered in ink. He wears only a pair of black shorts, exposing all the beautiful art and my eyes gobble up every inch. From his neck to his ankles, roses and snakes, skulls and knives twist and turn over his sculpted muscles.
His hand lifts slowly, bringing the coffee cup to his mouth, and sips. He swallows and exhales deeply and props a hand on his hip.
“Fuck. What am I doing?” I watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs when his head falls back.
I give him a quiet moment before interrupting his peace and putting a stop to eavesdropping on anything else he may say.
“Eh em.” I clear my throat and he startles. “Sorry. I, um, woke up early and needed some fresh air. I’ll leave you to your morning.”
I push up off the chair, placing my feet on the cool tile that surrounds the pool, and stand.
“No. You don’t have to do that. Sit,” he insists, stepping closer to me. “Would you like some coffee, or tea? I have both.”
His tone is less harsh than it was yesterday when we first met. It takes me by surprise and I watch cautiously for any sudden change, ready to defend myself. When he doesn’t throw out a criticizing follow up comment, I release the tension in my muscles.
“Uh, sure. Coffee would be great.” He gives me a short and quick nod then motions for me to follow him into the house.
I walk behind him and study the intricate details of his tattoos. There’s so much going on, it’s difficult for me to focus on one thing. So difficult that I run smack into his back when he stops to open the back door.
My cheek sticks to his warm skin and I reach my hands up to steady myself. They end up splayed over his trim waist and I feel the way his muscles flex when I do.
“Oomph.” The garbled sound slips from my mouth.
Hendrix hisses and I jump back, seeing that his coffee has spilled over his hand. He switches the mug into the other hand and shakes out the one with the hot coffee dripping off of it.
“Oh shit. I’m so sorry.” I rip off my sweatshirt and begin soaking up the coffee.
“It’s okay. Really. You don’t have to…” His words stop and he turns as stiff as a marble statue.
My hand slows having wiped it all clean, and I remove my sweatshirt then look to find him staring up at the morning sky.
“Your, uh, top has fallen,” he tells me, refusing to look at me.
