Page 20 of Something Cryptid This Way Comes
The urge to kiss him throbs in every beat of my pulse. I give in to the temptation to cup his cheek. At the touch of my fingers, his eyes darken and he sucks in a breath. His gaze falls to my lips and his own part.
The seductive slither of desire catches me in its thrall. My cock hardens. Heat expands, licking tiny flames over my skin. My pulse comes faster.
Trevor tilts his head the smallest degree to the right, and I know that angle will slot our mouths together perfectly.
He’s close. So close.
I lean in.
His hands tighten on my shoulders. The pressof his fingers pulls me closer.
A shrill whistle blows several yards away, followed by a second whistle to our north, signifying the end of the investigation.
Each group leader is supposed to blow their whistle at ten o’clock to call everyone back to the campfire. We need to go. There’s still a long trek back.
“Bram?” The rustle of someone kicking up leaves is behind us. “Is it time to leave?”
I shake my head to clear it. “Uh, yeah. We’re coming.”
“Okay.” The steps retreat. But more voices join theirs.
Trevor slides his hands to my forearms. The want misting his gaze has cleared. I caress his cheek one more time. Desperation to touch him, taste him, know him in a way I haven’t allowed myself, clutches me with such force, it threatens to drop me to my knees. But this isn’t the right time, or place, because Trevor deserves more than a quick groping in the woods with dozens of people, including my great-aunt, hanging around. Maybe holding back is the smartest thing. I lower my arms. Trevor does the same, and cold air sweeps in, making the loss of his touch more acute.
I stumble back a few steps on shaky legs. Being so close to Trevor has left me reeling. I gesture to the woods and what I hope is the general direction of the other members of the green team. “We have to head back.”
His eyes are too bright. His nod and smile are too tight and too quick.
Shit.
“Right. I’ll blow the whistle.” He steps away from me, braces his hand on a tree, and blows the whistle in a prolonged note that reminds me of the ref’s whistle signifying the end of a game.
It feels so… final. But it can’t be. I ignore the tightness of my skin, like all of the sudden it doesn’t fit me anymore, and tuck the camera into the backpack. I wait for him while he ties his shoe, and know that whatever this is, it’s not the end. We’re just beginning, and everything in my gut tells me Trevor feels the same.
We walk in silence to rejoin the others.
A few of our team members chatter about photos they took and what those images might reveal. I ask everyone questions about their night during the trek back to the campfire, with half of my attention on Trevor the entire time.
The glow of the campfire comes into view. People mill around, showing each other their phones and cameras. I’m surrounded by people wanting me to listen to sounds captured and see hair and bones collected and lose sight of Trevor in the chaos.
My phone vibrates with the alert that it’s time to wind things down. I jump onto the wide tree stump he and I shared at the start of the evening so everyone can see me. “Did you all have a good investigation?”
The group cheers.
Smiling, I continue, “You’ll all receive an email from me with an address for sending your audio and video files. Please leave any bags of physical evidence with your group leaders. Finn Hunnicutt, our local veterinarian, will analyze them.”
I spy Trevor standing with Ever and Dmitri on the edge of the crowd. Tension radiates from him. Did almost kissing him just fuck up our friendship?
A guy in the front row raises his hand. “When will our investigation be on your podcast?”
“Next Saturday’s podcast episode is devoted to Mabel. Our investigation will be the following Saturday. If you post a photo of tonight on social media, don’t forget to tag me or the podcast. Thanks for trusting me with your stories and for joining the search. Have a good night.”
More cheers and applause ring out.
I hop off the stump and almost bump into Jo. “How was your investigation?”
She tugs her lavender knitted beanie with an enormous pompom over her ears. “We captured some heat signatures and photos, and I got startled by an owl.”
Jake, Alaric, and Zach join us. Alaric, who is wearing a matching beanie, but in rainbow instead of lavender, hugs his cousin. “Jo did a great job keeping charge of us. Our group was more like herding cats.”
