Chapter 23
23
HUNTER
The citrusy tang of lemonade lingers on my tongue as I lean back in the chaise longue, the condensation from the glass chilling my fingers. Bright sunbeams dance across the pool’s surface, glinting like scattered diamonds. Nina, Rowena, and I are soaking up in the half-shade of a giant white umbrella, our skins glistening with a sheen of sun lotion in the thick, July heat.
Soft beats pulse from portable speakers connected to Dylan’s phone, mingling with the rustle of leaves in the faint breeze. While us gals lazy it out, the guys are hauling the ratty, old—now also soggy—couch through the basement egress door. They’re shirtless.
As they emerge, Dylan’s golden hair catches the light, the flex of his back muscles mesmerizing. Beside him, Tristan grunts with the effort, biceps bulging.
“Damn.” Rowena lowers her sunglasses. “I know one’s your boyfriend and the other’s your brother, but holy hell. How are we supposed to look anywhere else right now?”
Nina laughs, propping herself up on her elbows for a better view. “Oh, don’t hold back on my account. I’m enjoying the show.”
Her appreciative hum blends with the music as we watch the men navigate the couch across the lawn. Sweat glistens along the ridges of Tristan’s abs and over Dylan’s shoulders, broad and sculpted from years on the basketball court.
I take a long sip of lemonade, the ice clinking against my teeth. I hiss at the stab of pain, wishing ice could chill more than just my incisors. If only I could put a cold compress on my raging crush. I should tear my eyes away; ogling Dylan’s bare, sweaty chest is doing nothing to cure me. Especially not as the guys drop the couch and face us—it’s a muscle onslaught.
Dylan flashes an easy smile our way as he calls out, “Hey, any of you lovely ladies want to give us a hand?”
“We wish we could,” Nina yells back, “but we don’t want to.”
Dylan huffs out a laugh and bends to grab the couch again, those delectable shoulder muscles rippling. I hide my shameless gawking behind my sunglasses.
Rowena smiles playfully. “If Tristan ever loses his job, he can always get a role in the next Magic Mike .”
Nina jokingly groans. “The jerk even wore a backward baseball cap when he knows we’ll have to wait all day to?—”
Rowena finishes the phrase for her, “To make tender, caring, sweet love?”
Nina scoffs. “After that display, what I plan to do with Tristan ain’t going to be sweet.” She turns to Rowena with a mischievous grin. “I bet your fiancé is just as ripped, huh?”
At the mention of Adrian, a cloud sweeps over Rowena’s face, her gaze becoming distant. “He’s not my fiancé, so I won’t be ripping the benefits—pun intended.”
I study my friend closely. Rowena tries to act carefree, but she’s been downcast for the entire journey. Even more broody than me, which is saying something.
“What about you?” Nina nudges my foot with her toe. “Seeing anything you like?”
On reflex, my gaze darts back to Dylan. The guys have dropped the couch on the grass, and he’s stretching out, bathed in sunlight. His blond locks gleam like molten gold, catching every ray, and his body—oh, his body. Muscles flex as he lifts his arms above his head, the smooth skin of his torso gleaming with sweat. It looks as if the god of the sun himself has come down to Earth to haul furniture.
If ancient poets had ever witnessed this, Apollo would’ve had some serious competition in the worship department. Every inch of Dylan ripples with strength, each movement a reminder that some people were built to make the rest of the population suffer.
And suffer I do; my mouth goes dry at the sight. I take a hasty swig of lemonade, the cold tartness a reality check. He’s taken. And even if he weren’t with Olivia, he has never shown an interest in me in eleven years. We’re friends. Roommates. Platonic as can be.
Nina pokes my foot again. “No comment, Miss Brolin?”
I try to play it cool, shrugging nonchalantly. “Just thinking that none of my disastrous dates from last week must’ve looked that good without a shirt. I should add ‘must be an ex-basketball player’ to my desiderata on my profile.”
Nina shushes me as the guys approach, their footsteps muffled by the grass. “Shh, don’t let them hear you talk about basketball or they’ll delight us with some college glory days anecdotes.”
I make a zipper motion over my lips as they arrive. Tristan catches my gesture, raising a mock suspicious eyebrow at his girlfriend. “Keeping secrets, are we?”
Nina provokes him teasingly. “I can’t tell you everything, babe. I’ve got to keep a little mystery alive.”
Tristan’s response is wordless. He lies on top of her, sliding his sweaty body over hers in a move that’s at once gross, playful, and sensual. “Is this mysterious enough for you?”
Nina screeches, her hands flailing in mock protest. “Ew, you’re disgusting.” But the struggling lasts about two seconds before she pulls him down for a passionate kiss, her fingers tangling in his damp hair.
I glance away, feeling like I’m intruding on a private moment. My gaze lands on Dylan, who’s watching the display with a look that’s equal parts fondness and exasperation.
Until, at the lack of restraint from his best friend and sister, Dylan scoffs and upends their chaise with a casual shove. Nina and Tristan tumble into the pool in a tangle of limbs, water splashing everywhere, the scent of chlorine rising in the warm air.
They emerge laughing, Tristan pushing his hair back from his face, his cap floating away. “Thanks, man. I needed to cool off.” Then he grabs Nina again, and their lips meet in a kiss that’s even more heated than before.
“If you two get into any more PDA, I’ll grab the hose, I swear.”
Nina and Tristan ignore him, lost in their own world.
Dylan looks away, shaking his head. He rights the now-empty chaise and sits, the plastic creaking under his weight as he stretches his long legs out in front of him. “About the couch situation.” He turns to me and I’m glad I’m wearing sunglasses as a shield of sorts because being the sole focus of his blue-green gaze is overwhelming, like staring straight into the sun. The heat of it washes over me, my skin prickling with awareness. If Dylan is Apollo, the sun god, in our little Greek mythology drama, I’m Icarus. I might want to fly to the sun, but the only thing that’s going to happen to me if I do is that my wings will melt and I’ll splatter to the ground, shattering my heart.
“What about it?” I ask, ignoring the pounding organ in my chest. “Will it dry in time for tonight?”
“Even if it dries, the old guy doesn’t have another night left in him.” He grins. “It’s smelling a bit too moldy for my taste.”
I return the smile. “Ah, he had a valiant death, then. Serving his purpose until the end.”
“A true hero,” Dylan agrees solemnly. “But that leaves us with a problem. All the shops are closed today; we can’t get a replacement.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s the plan then?”
He shrugs, the movement causing the muscles in his shoulders to ripple in a way that’s entirely too distracting. “You can take the couch in the living room. I’ll blow up an air mattress and stay on the floor. At least we’ll have air conditioning. Silver linings, right?”
“Air conditioning sounds way better than spontaneous garden sprinklers.”
Dylan is about to reply when Nina and Tristan creep out of the pool behind him, wicked grins on their faces. Before he can react, they each grab one of his arms and yank him backward into the water.
The splash is enormous, and almost gets me and Rowena, too. Dylan emerges a second later, sputtering and shaking his head like a wet dog. Droplets fly everywhere, catching the sunlight and splintering into tiny rainbow crystals.
“Oh, it’s on,” he declares, his eyes narrowing playfully at the giggling couple.
With a roar, Dylan lunges for Tristan, trapping him in a headlock and dunking him under the water.
Tristan comes up laughing, his hands raised in mock surrender. “I yield, I yield.”
But Dylan isn’t done. He turns to Nina. “And you, dear sister. You think you can escape unscathed?”
Nina squeals, to swim away, but her brother is too fast. He captures her waist and hoists her over his shoulder, spinning her around as she beats her fists against his back. Tristan comes to a heroic rescue, and together, they overwhelm Dylan.
“Hey, you’d yielded,” he protests with Tristan.
“Sorry, bro. All’s fair in love and water fights.”
Dylan splashes him and turns to Rowena and me. “You two joining in, or are you too chicken?”
Rowena sets her lemonade down and stands. The sun catches on her chestnut hair, turning it to burnished copper as she saunters to the edge of the pool. With a playful grin, she drops backward onto a floatie, the plastic squeaking under her weight. She sighs as the cool water laps against her sides. Rowena wiggles her butt, adjusting her position, and leans back, tilting her face toward the sky. All her worries seem to melt away.
I hesitate. The idea of being near a wet, shirtless Dylan is both tempting and terrifying. But the heat is oppressive, and the water looks inviting… also, I don’t want to be a party pooper.
Dylan is watching me and cocks his head in invitation or in a challenge, I’m not sure.
Oh, what the hell. I stand by the pool’s edge and dip a toe in. The water is colder than I expected. I could ease myself in gradually but I’d take forever, so I dive in. The contrast in temperature against my overheated skin makes me gasp as I resurface, goosebumps erupting all over my body despite the warmth of the day.
But after the initial shock, I swim below the surface again, letting the coolness envelop me as I float back up.
When I open my eyes, I realize I’ve drifted closer to Dylan than I intended. He’s watching me, an unreadable expression on his face.
I panic and paddle backward, putting distance between us. Safer. I develop a radar system tuned into his location and always position myself at the opposite edge. The safety buffer holds until Tristan dive-bombs into the pool right next to me, sending a wave crashing over my head.
I sputter, flailing my arms to regain my balance. My hand connects with something solid and warm, and I grab on instinctively.
I blink water out of my eyes and find my fingers wrapped around Dylan’s bicep, the firm muscle flexing under my touch. Heat sears through me, and I drop my hand as if burned, walking and paddling backward.
“Sorry, I—” My apology is cut short as my foot slips on the pool floor. I go under. Water rushes into my mouth, and then powerful arms are around me, hauling me up.
I break the surface, coughing and gasping, as I find myself plastered against Dylan’s torso. Our legs tangle as we tread water, his hands gripping my waist to steady me, my palms flattening on his chest. Even in the cool embrace of the pool, his touch scorches my skin.
For a suspended moment, we’re frozen, our bodies molded together. I feel every inch of him, hard and unyielding against my softness. His heartbeat thunders under my palm, matching the frantic pace of my own.
Our eyes lock, and a live wire replaces my veins again, the current setting every nerve ending alight. I can’t breathe, can’t think. There’s only Dylan, the heat of his gaze, the pressure of his hands.
Just as I’m about to fry in the pool with all the electricity coursing through me, the music cuts off, leaving a ringing silence in its place. Dylan’s phone, abandoned on a lounge chair, chimes with a new message. A robotic voice reads it out on the speakers’ system.
“Message from Olivia: Miss you, babe. Wish you were here with me.”
The words slice through me colder than a blade of ice. Dylan jerks away as if stung, his face shuttering. He clears his throat, looking anywhere but at me.
“I should… I need to?—”
I paste on a tight smile and gesture toward Dylan’s phone. “Yeah, you’d better go respond to that,” I say lightly as sourness fills my stomach.
Dylan nods, avoiding my gaze as he climbs the metal ladder. I hate myself a little for not being able to tear my eyes away from the muscular planes of his back as he strides over to his phone, water sluicing down his sun-kissed skin, tracing paths I want to follow with my fingers—also with my tongue, if I’m being honest.
He grabs a towel and starts drying off, putting an end to the show and to the synchronized body-lock performance we were having underwater.
I’m left bobbing backward, my skin still tingling from his touch, as reality crashes over me colder and more unforgiving than the water. Nothing like getting a wake-up call in the form of your crush’s gorgeous girlfriend declaring her undying love on the Dolby surround system. I bite the inside of my cheek, half-laughing at myself. I’m beyond tragic.
My arms are heavy as lead as I lift out of the pool, weighed down by disappointment. Nina and Tristan are still playing around, too wrapped up in each other to notice the drama unfolding. Rowena shoots me a knowing look from her floatie. I deliberately turn away, not ready to face her pity or curiosity.
“Well, at least tonight I won’t have to worry about sharing a mattress with Mr. Committed,” I grit out quietly, grabbing my towel. “Silver linings, right, Dylan? The air conditioning won’t be the only thing keeping things frosty.”
Dylan, already halfway to the house, doesn’t hear me. Just as well. The disaster would be complete if he picked up on my hopelessly one-sided feelings.
I flop down on my chaise, letting the sun bake away the lingering chill. It’s fine. Super. So what if the guy I’m halfway in love with is head over heels for someone else? I’ll get over it. It won’t take another eleven years either.