37. Grady
GRADY
An affair. A fling. A secret romance with an expiration date.
It’s not my style.
But something about it is so enticing, because it’s not my style.
I thought Teah and I were endgame, and what a fucking disaster that turned out to be. So the idea of just giving myself over to this forest fling with Blake actually feels pretty damn good.
It means I can’t think about the outside world for a second.
For the rest of this week, there is no Wily. There is no football, no school, nothing.
It’s just me, Blake, and the wild.
So rather than rushing her away from this amazing view, I linger, kissing her until we’re struggling to breathe, then spinning her around and pulling her back against me. We stand there, drinking in the view, and I let myself hold her the way I’ve been wanting to for weeks .
We end up swaying, our bodies merging with the gentle breeze as we stand in silence, letting the sounds of nature grow around us.
Damn, I could stay here forever.
But we’ve still got another hour or so of hiking and then setting up camp. It’d be great to do that before the darkness sets in, so I force myself to let her go.
“Come on, Bee. We’ve got to get moving.” I reach down for our shirts while she laughs at me.
“Bee? Where did that come from?”
“I don’t know.” I watch her secure her bra, then slip her clothes back on before I reach for her pack and slide it up her shoulders.
“Too lazy to say my full name? One whole syllable? You’re right, that is a lot of effort.” She grins at me when I move around her, checking her straps are still good.
With a soft snicker, I reach for my own pack and hitch it up my shoulders. “I can keep calling you Blake or Wilson if you want me to.” My waist belt closes with a click. “But I’m liking Bee for you.”
Her lips curl into the sweetest smile as she whispers, “I’m liking it too.”
“So, come on, then, Bee.” I hold out my hand. “Let’s go.”
With a melodic laugh, she takes my hand, and I pull her back into the forest. The trail gets narrow pretty fast, and I have to let her go, but all that ugly tension between us has disappeared and we’re now hiking along, happily playing the alphabet game, which she started.
The topic is book titles, and we’re smashing through it. I love that she knows all the classics. She’s obviously well-read, just like me. I don’t actually love the classics, though; I prefer political thrillers, espionage, stuff like that.
“What are you into reading?” I ask after she comes up with The Zookeeper’s Wife. We decided “the” and “a” didn’t count for the game.
“Um…” I turn to watch her scratch her cheek, then blow away a curl that’s tickling her. “I’ll pretty much read anything. I really enjoy biographies and autobiographies.”
“Yeah, me too.” I nod. “Have you read Michelle Obama’s?”
“Yes!” Her voice rises with enthusiasm. “That woman is freaking amazing!”
“I know, right?” I smile. “I also love A Long Walk to Freedom. ”
“Nelson Mandela. What a legend,” she agrees. “And I also enjoyed I Am Malala. Have you read that one?”
“No, but I’ve heard of it.” I wince. “Makes me so fucking grateful to be born and raised where I am. I mean, sure, it sucks being a Black man in this country sometimes. But the stuff women have to face in some of those countries… Just horrific.”
She goes quiet, and I turn back to glance at her, noticing her pinched expression.
“What?”
“I hate that things can suck for you. This is your country, and you should feel the same sense of freedom I do. It makes me feel incredibly white and rich and privileged, and I’m so sorry.”
“Hey.” I stop and turn to face her. “That’s not your fault. You didn’t choose to be born into what you are, just like I didn’t choose. We have to take what we get and make the most of it. And you’ve never made me feel less than.”
“Because you’re not.” Her eyebrows rise. “Holy shit, Grady, you are a million times better than me. I’m the lucky one here just to be with you. Black doesn’t mean less. Ever .” She’s so emphatic. “There are a hell of a lot more shitty white people in the world than there are any other color.”
I let out a soft laugh. “You might be right about that. But look, there are just a lot of shitty people, period.”I smile at her, capturing that wayward curl and tucking it behind her ear. “And I’m not better than you.”
Her blue eyes look up at me, dark with intensity. “Have you ever been pulled over unfairly? Treated like a criminal when you’re so obviously not?” Her face puckers with worry.
“I doubt there’s a single Black man who hasn’t.
” I watch her expression turn to one of horror.
“But we deal with it, and we keep on working toward a better future, you know? It’s like what MartinLuther King Jr. said.
‘The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.’ I have to believe that things will get better.
That’s what keeps me going on the days when I get really angry. ”
“It sucks,” she mutters, clearly annoyed. “Things like thatshould never happen.”
“No, they should not,” I agree, reaching for her hand, gazing down at the stark contrast of our black and white skin.
I can’t even tell you why, but I’ve always been attracted to white girls.
Is that safe for me? Not always. There have been more times than I can count where a white guy has given me a look, muttered a comment under his breath or to my face.
I’ve always done my best to ignore it.As far as I’m concerned, people are people.
Skin is skin. Who gives a fuck if it’s a different color?
“Come on.” I give her hand a little tug. “We need to keep moving.”
She follows me without complaint, and we walk in silence for a while. The birds are twittering a late-afternoon song, the volume increasing as they obviously have their daily meeting to discuss whatever it is they got up to.
I grin at the sound, picking up my pace a little. The camping spot is just up ahead, and I want to get us set up and ready before nightfall.
As soon as we reach the grove, I slip my pack off and start instructing Blake on where we should pitch the tent. She follows my orders, although she starts doing some stuff before I tell her to. So after twenty minutes, I stop acting like the boss and we just work together as a team.
She sets up the tent with relative ease, which is pretty impressive considering she’s only done it once before, and I was helping her the whole time.
“Nice.” I grin at her, and she smiles right back with a look of genuine pride and pleasure.
She’s stoked with herself, and I know this because she pings to her feet and snaps a bunch of pictures of our little camping setup before heading into the woods.
“Just gonna find some kindling.”
“Cool,” I call from my spot where I’m tying up the packs. We’ve got everything out that we need for the night… I hope.
An hour later, the fire is set, a trail of smoke wafting on the breeze, and I’m frying up the two fish I caught from the river.
Blake stares at the flames, her lips twitching as she watches me. “You’re like Bear Grylls.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help laughing. “Tyrell called me Black Bear the other day. Said I’m America’s version of the guy.”
“Black Bear,” she muses, her nose wrinkling. “I kinda love it.”
I grin at her across the flames. “Gonna start calling me that now, are ya?”
She shrugs, her lips tipping up into a sexy little grin. “A bee and a bear? Sounds like a perfect pair to me.”
Yeah, me too.
A wave of heat courses through me when I catch her eye and know exactly how we’re gonna be spending our night.
This time, I’m gonna face her. I’m gonna study her expression as she comes. I’m gonna feel those luscious legs wrap around my hips.
If she wants that, of course.
Dude, look at her face. She’s already thinking about it.
Biting my lips together, I turn the fish a little fast, willing it to cook through in record time.
I burn my tongue scarfing it down, noticing her doing the same. Watching her lick those greasy fingertips sets my body on fire in a whole new way, and I rush through the cleanup, catching her against me when we’re finally done.
Her tongue is warm in my mouth, tasting minty. She’s just brushed her teeth, washing away the fish and leaving her addictive tongue fresh and beautiful for me .
Fisting the back of my hair, she wraps her legs around me, squeezing her thighs and already grinding.
I manage to pull back enough to whisper, “I want to take it slow.”
She frowns down at me. “Meaning?”
“I want to taste every inch of your skin.” I kiss her neck as I walk us toward the tent. “I want to savor you, Bee. Let me take my time.”
“Savor me,” she purrs against my cheek. “Think I’m loving the sound of that.”