10. Remy
10
Remy
Six Years Ago
J ust five school days until… freedom!
For winter break, at least.
I’ve already checked out. All I can think about is how much time I’ll have with Win, visiting all my favorite hidden beach spots, even though he bitches and moans about the sand. At least the weather has cooled off so he can’t use the heat as an excuse.
A hand waves in front of my face.
“Earth to Remy,” Andrea sings, snapping me out of my runaway imagination.
“Sorry, what?”
She rolls her eyes and resumes transforming her ponytail into a braid while we walk.
“I asked what time we’re meeting for your birthday tomorrow”
My birthday. Right. We have a tradition: every year we see the worst-rated movie in the theaters, eat our weight in popcorn and M fine worry lines burrow between her brows. There’s an aura of anxious energy humming around her like a halo.
“Um, hi, I'm Remy… is Win home?” I ask like a dumbass. (Of course he is. He leaves last period study hall thirty minutes early every Thursday for violin.)
Her concern instantly vanishes, replaced by a beaming smile.
“Oh, Remy, it's so lovely to finally meet you!” She gushes, stepping aside. “Come in! I’m Marceline, Winnie’s mom, but call me Marcy. He’s upstairs playing a game, I think.”
Winnie ?
Why is that nickname so fucking adorable?
Struck by the drastic change in her demeanor, I follow in a daze as she leads me through a tastefully decorated foyer. There's so much white and beige, I'm scared breathing will dirty it. On one wall, seashells in frames flank a sepia photo of Win with V tucked under his chin, eyes closed and thick lashes splayed on his cheeks.
Not even Alyssa Mendes— voted the prettiest girl at Kingsbury— comes close to his otherworldly beauty.
“He’ll be thrilled you stopped by. He seemed a bit uptight after violin, but you always cheer him up,” she says as she guides me to the stairs. “Let me know if you boys need anything. I’ll be in the study.”
“Thank you.”
She gives me a wistful smile before disappearing down the hall. I grasp the banister, polished wood gliding under my sweaty palm as I take the steps at a measured pace despite the urge to move quicker. The menu music for one of Win’s favorite video games lures me to the landing, a grin overtaking my face at the idea of him unleashing his frustrations on grotesque animated monsters.
My hand wraps around the doorknob—
It doesn’t budge.
The music slows to a tinkling melody. I raise my fist to knock when a noise stops me.
It’s soft. Muffled. Like a sigh.
Panting .
Something stirs in my groin.
I’m frozen. I’m burning.
A groan.
An ache forms in my balls.
I should leave.
A sharp inhale.
Don't get hard, don't get hard.
A low, breathy moan.
I'm hard.
Leaving is smart. Super smart. I should do that. Leave. Now.
My arm drops, my watch smacking the knob; metal on metal screeches. The music pauses.
“Mom?”
He's breathless.
Rustling and a thud. Stumbling footsteps—
I’m trying to articulate a response while silently begging my dick to deflate right this fucking second when the door opens.
Now I really can’t speak.
Win. Is. Shirtless.
A small rose tattoo decorates the pale skin of his side. (I'm shocked his parents allowed it.) My eyes dart down to the sweats hanging lopsided off his hips… down where I really shouldn’t be looking.
“Remy? ”
The ragged rasp of his voice is too fucking much. My fingers itch to brush the unruly hair out of his smoky eyes. Or trace the outline of that rose.
Universe, give me a semblance of composure.
There’s no way he was… No. I must have caught him at the end of a workout. I do abs and push-ups in my room sometimes. That has to be why there’s a pink tint in his cheeks and a sheen of sweat glistening across his collar bones (since when are collar bones so fascinating?)
A voice in my head, sounding eerily like Andrea's, hisses, Stop being a horny asshat and remember why you’re here. Why am I so worked up over this? It’s not like we don’t hang out all the time. Sure, we use the excuse of studying, but this is Win. Weirdness aside, he’s my best friend.
“I was walking home with Andrea and, uh, just stopped by to, um, invite you to hang out with us for my birthday tomorrow. We have this tradition— nothing crazy, just a shitty movie and beer, but if you’re busy—”
“Ok.”
He leans against the door frame, arms crossed and a crooked smirk on his lips.
I blink. “Ok?”
He shrugs. “Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
Andrea might’ve been right: I’m hopeless.
His fingers drum his bicep. “So, you wanna help me beat this final boss?”
And we’re back to familiar territory. Relief cascades over me.
“Is that even a question? You can’t beat it without my expert skills,” I scoff, shouldering past him into the bedroom. My elbow skims his naked chest. Tiny sparks raise goosebumps across my body in sheets.
He chuckles and closes the door. “I mean, I can , but it wouldn’t be as fun.”
I glance over my shoulder, catching a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Was that…? No. I'm imagining things. That wasn't an innuendo. Right? I think I’m having a stroke.
Stroke…
Dear God, it’s Remy, please electrocute me.
Smirking to hide the chaos in my brain, I plop on the edge of his bed and grab the controller, pointing it at him. “You're so full of shit. Here's how this is gonna go: you’re gonna fight it on your own and when your stubborn ass realizes you can't do it alone, you'll lose and I’ll be there to save you from yourself.”
He snorts. “My name is Win . It’s impossible for me to lose.”
I level a deadpan glare at him, warring against the laughter rising within. “You won’t be so smug when I destroy your ass.”
Leisurely strolling toward me, he hums. “Could be into it.”
He’s absolutely flirting.
Or I’m delusional.
Either way, my cheeks are on fire and I think I’m headed for an early grave because I can’t help leaning into whatever is happening between us right now.
“Ok, Winnie , put your money where your mouth is.”
He jerks to a halt, hands shooting to grip fistfuls of raven hair.
“Fucking kill me,” he groans, “She really used that awful nickname in front of you?”
“Sure did, Pooh-Bear.”
His arms drop. Then he growls like an animal and launches at me. My bottled amusement breaks free and soon we’re laughing and fighting over the controller.