16. Conor
Conor
Jess is beautiful. I already knew that.
Everybody knows that. I’m sure that, if I was blind, I’d still know that.
But, what I didn’t know was that seeing Jess in my house—falling in love with the same details that made me love the place—would become the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
After a morning of demolition (where I took the very opportunistic chance to give her a hands-on demonstration of how to swing a sledgehammer) we’re sitting by the pool.
The soothing, cool water laps around my ankles, but that sensation is overtaken by the fact that our fingers are touching.
Pinky fingers, to be specific. Just that one tiny point of touch ignites a thousand flares all over my body.
I know I should pull my hand away, but I don’t.
“Did you have fun this morning?”
“So much fun.” Jess smiles broadly. “Better than therapy, I imagine.”
I laugh. “Cheaper than therapy, too.”
“I don’t think I’d ever smashed anything before.” Jess wiggles her feet back and forth in the pool, creating ripples that lap at my calves.
“Uh, your plant pot would beg to differ,” I tease.
She immediately goes a cute shade of pink. “Thanks again for saving her remains. And, um, for buying her a new pot. It’s beautiful.”
I’m immediately gratified that she likes it.
A couple of nights back, I went to Lowe’s Garden Center after work to pick one out, and spent ages poring over the selection.
I finally chose a grey concrete pot with a white stripe around the middle and a gold lip—simple and classy, yet interesting and pretty. Just like Jess.
But instead of saying any of this, I shrug. “Ah, I was at the Garden Center anyway, to get some stuff for the yard at the Decatur flip.”
We chat about Decatur for a little while, and I tell her about how I understand staging to work, and what she’ll be doing to help.
The conversation then turns to my plans for my house, and we talk easily, ideas ebbing back and forth.
Jess is brimming with suggestions, and most of them are fantastic—some, I would have never thought of.
Jess understands light, color and balance so well that it makes me even more excited to have her create something really special at the Decatur flip for the open house.
“You know so much about design,” I tell her, impressed.
Jess tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I love art, so I guess I look at everything with an artist’s eye.”
“You studied Art History, right?”
She nods, and the breeze catches in her hair.
“Did you ever do any art yourself?”
“Used to. I haven’t for a while. I’m hoping to start again when I get my feet back on the ground with work.” She flushes. “Which I have now, thanks to you.”
“I’d love to see some of your work.”
“Ah, maybe one day.” Jess gives a non-committal wave of her hand. Then, she shifts, picking up the fabric of her ridiculously large t-shirt and shaking it to create a breeze on her body. “I’m hot.”
Yeah, you are.
A bead of sweat drips down her neck and I want to taste it. In fact, I’m aching to reach over and kiss her. Tell her how I can’t stop thinking about her. How, when I saw her crying last night, all I wanted was to protect her from everything that could hurt her.
But, friends don’t kiss friends. Jess just got out of a relationship, and she’s Aiden’s little sister. Who I live with. There are so many reasons why I shouldn’t fall for her.
I’ll admit it, though. I’m falling anyway.
Clearly, my harmless flirting plan is not harmless at all, because all it’s done is remind me over and over of what I can’t have. That I can’t go for what I want. Which is, overwhelmingly, to kiss Jess.
“It’s hotter outside than usual,” I say, rather stupidly. Anything to stop my wayward thoughts.
Jess laughs and the sound is like music. “It is.”
The laughter in her eyes draws me in. Before I can stop myself, my head dips instinctively towards hers. My mind is a blank blur of static—all reason and logic have evacuated in the face of those endless, hypnotizing brown eyes.
Sorry, lights are on but nobody’s home.
I’ve moved a few inches towards her before I finally get a hold of myself and kick my brain back into action.
I don’t know if it's adrenaline from being so close to her, or if I’ve come down with a sudden case of heat stroke that clouds my rational judgment, but what I do next has no explanation. None at all.
Because I continue to move towards her... But, instead of kissing her, I push her in the pool.
Like, shove her. Fully clothed.
Into the pool.
SPLASH!
Jess topples in like a bowling ball and hits the water with enough force to send a spray of drops all over me.
I stare, openmouthed and shocked. What did I just do?
One second passes.
Two.
Three.
Four… oh dear Lord, what if she can’t swim?!
Now I’ve done it. The thought hits me like a punch in the gut, and blood pumps in my ears. I scramble to a stand, ready to dive in and save her.
But, like Moses parting the Red Sea, two arms emerge from the pool and Jess pulls herself up to the surface. She places her elbows on the side of the pool and I wince, waiting for her wrath to be unleashed. Instead, she throws her head back and laughs. Laughs and laughs.
So, I laugh too, a cacophony of emotions clashing within me—relief that she’s okay, happiness that I made her laugh, and pure shock at my thoughtless action.
“Okay, okay,” Jess says, smiling up at me and extending a hand. “Now I’m no longer hot. Help me out?”
I crouch forward and hold out my hand, ready to yank her out of the water. Jess gives me the sweetest smile. “Thank you.”
Then, her hand closes around mine and she pulls. Hard.
KERSPLASH!
I go flying, headfirst, into the pool. Which is exactly what I deserve. But, as I’m not in the least bit prepared, I inhale a lungful of chlorinated water. When I breach the surface, I’m coughing and spluttering.
Jess laughs even harder. “That’s what you get, you jerk.”
“I’m”— cough, cough —“sorry!” I tilt my head, gasping and wheezing for breath.
Jess, merciless and vindictive, attempts to dunk me. In my spluttering state. So much for that butter-couldn’t-melt sweetness.
When I catch a glimpse of her face, she’s smiling like a villain. A really cute villain.
“Hey!”— cough —”You are SO asking for it!” I grab her arm and twist her away, trying to dunk her back. In response, she moves like a tornado, twirling in the water with one arm skimming the surface. The motion creates a tsunami of water that hits me in the face.
“Okay, now you’re really getting it!” I’ve recovered enough to spring into motion, pouncing on her so we both go tumbling back beneath the surface.
We spend the entire afternoon like this, play-fighting in the pool like a pair of kids without a care in the world. I don’t think about boundaries, or what I should or shouldn’t be thinking or doing, I just let myself enjoy being with her. Making her laugh. Being myself.
It’s beautiful. Perfect.
Every damn second of it.