Page 30 of Be Your Somebody
How is it legal for someone to just look likethat?I want to walk over to him, lick him from the delicious V of his hips to his neck, making tiny bites along the way. Shit! No. I can't think like that. This is Cas, he's my friend.
I hear him clear his throat. “My eyes are up here, Avery.” My face and neck feel hot, and I know I'm as red as a tomato.Take a deep breath in, then out, I repeat to myself. My eyes meet his and he’s staring at me, arms folded over his chest with a smirk.
“So, you going to change out of your shirt or are you planning to swim like that?” he taunts. I smirk, knowing that when I take off my shirt, his eyes will bug out of his head.
I turn around, knowing full well my ass is out for the world to see. The second I whip my shirt off I hear him groan behind me. I throw a smirk over my shoulder and see him staring at me with the same hungry look he had at the park, but slightly more intense. I turn around, smiling. Iknowthat look is far from platonic.
Cas makes a slow sweep of my body, stopping at my chest, and he licks his lips.
“Hey, Cas, my eyes are up on my face, not my boobs,” I say, giving him a taste of his own medicine.
“Huh?” He's clearly still distracted.
“Let's just get in the water, hotshot.” I shake my head and walk past, fully intending to get in the water, but then an idea strikes. My eyes flick toward Cas to find him still distracted by my breasts. A distracted Cas is perfect for what I plan to do. I didn't hesitate before running full speed at him, but I guess he wasn't as distracted as I thought because he suddenly grabbed and tossed me in.Asshole!
“Nice try,” he says as soon as I surface. Cas sets up his camera and I hear rapid shutter sounds. I have a scowl on my face from him throwing me in, but of course, he just laughs at me before jumping in himself. “Typewriter,” he calls while still in the air, mimicking the motion.
I try to swim away to avoid the splash, but he’s too quick. He grabs me by the ankles and pulls me back, and I end up slamming into his back. His hands circle my waist and a gasp escapes from my mouth. His breath was a cool breeze on a hot summer night. The kind that sends a shiverthroughout your body, making you pull your jacket tighter. “You cold?'' he asks. I shake my head and try to swim away. His hold tightens around me and I can feel his reaction to my body. I barely resist the urge to rub myself against him when he whispers in my ear, “You just had to wear that suit, didn't you?” When I turn my head back to face him, we are so close our noses are practically touching. I close my eyes and my lips part naturally, ready for him to make his move. But then he pulls his head back and spins me around so we are chest to chest. The sound of the camera disappears into the background, he must have done some sort of continuous shutter setting.
"You have no idea how much you affect me. I don't know what to do about it. Hell, I don't even know how to feel about it.” If we were standing on land, this confession would have knocked me off of my feet. I'm not sure what to say right now. The air between us is so charged that it’s hard to breathe. Finally, his grip on me loosens and I swim towards the dock to get some distance.
“Did I do something wrong?” He follows my lead and swims back to the dock.
“No. I just can't think while you're touching me.” I grab my towel so I can lie down and process everything. Of course, he does the same thing and plops his towel next to mine. He turns the camera off before plopping down next to me, our hands only inches apart.
“God, you're beautiful,” he says, completely taking my breath away.Well, that was random.My face turns shy and I try to hide behind my hands, but he grips my wrist before I can do anything.
“Seriously, you are. It’s more than just your looks. It's every single thing about you. But what I love the most is your heart. It's so genuine and open. It's probably why you're so talented at songwriting. You can tap into your feelings and words just seem to pour out of you. It’s something I both envy and admire about you. Which reminds me. Have you given any more consideration to the songwriting competition?”
I blink rapidly, trying to process everything he’s said. Doubts fall down like rain in the middle of a thunderstorm. If he knew the real reason for my hesitation, our conversation would be very different.
“I uh-no, I haven’t,” I respond honestly.
“Why?” he asks, a scowl etched across his face.
“I’m not-I can’t—I just can’t. I don’t think I can do it. I’m not very good at—" The look on his face stops me cold.
“Avery. I don’t ever want to hear you say you aren’t good enough. You understand?” I flinch at his words, surprised at how angry he got at such a small thing. I remain silent, causing him to repeat my name. “Avery, did you hear me?”
“Y-yes, I heard you. I won’t say it anymore,” I stutter.
“Good, now let me hear you shout My name'sAvery, and I am a damn fantastic writer.”
“I don’t—" I begin to say, but the fire in his eyes has me changing the direction of my words. “My name's Avery, and I am a damn fantastic writer,” I whisper.
“Good, now louder and like you mean it!” he shouts.
“My name's Avery, and I am a damn fantastic writer!” I shout, causing both of us to laugh. God that felt good to say. We laugh until we can’t breathe. Within a matter of seconds, the energy goes from playful to intense.
My gaze drops down to our hands. Cas’ eyes follow mine and he extends his pinky out. His eyes meet mine and I know what he wants to ask, but I can tell he’s afraid to vocalize it. I obliterate his indecision by intertwining my pinky with his. I tug on his pinky three times, to which he then tugs back three times. The pinky tug thing was something we did as kids when we needed to let the other know we were there. Doing this now as an adult only makes it that more special. The only difference is now, this small touch causes my whole body to ignite. We stay there, gazes locked and pinkies intertwined for the next hour or so. I remove my pinky from his only to run my fingers across the tattoo on his hand, causing his hand to flex. A frown forms across my face as I try to find the best way to ask about the meaning.
“Just ask, Avery.” He laughs.
“Did you, um, why did you get this?” I can’t seem to meet his gaze, the nerves in my stomach are the snow in a recently shaken snow globe.
“Avery, look at me.” When I still haven’t looked up, he tilts my chin with his hand. “You know why,” he says.
“It’s my favorite flower,” I whisper.
