Chapter Nine #2
I rub her back and lightly press a kiss to her crown, hoping the gesture will articulate what I wish I could say out loud: “No, you’re absolutely fine. Accidents happen.”
The message must have been received because she huffs out a breath and replies. “It’s not okay. I’ve run off on you twice tonight, and now we’re missing the fireworks because of it.”
I pull away and tilt her head up. Her gray-green eyes glisten with unshed tears.
“I’m not mad. I’m beating myself up for not being able to call out to you, Lauren, so this isn’t on you.
As for the fireworks? They’re still happening.
This date is salvageable, trust me. I don’t want it to end, if you don’t. ”
“Is everything between us going to be so messy?” she asks, followed by a sad sounding chuckle.
I smirk. “If it isn’t at least a little messy, is it even worth it?”
Her lips twitch. “That’s fair.”
“I’ll just wear a cup for our next date. It’ll all work out, you’ll see,” I tease.
She lightly bats at my chest, feigning annoyance. “You want another date, seeing as though I’m such a threat to your balls?”
“Without a doubt. It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” I wink at her. “Come on, let’s watch the grand finale, shall we?”
She nods, and I escort her back over to the blanket, allowing her to settle back into the same position she was in before we kissed. She picks up the flashlight I brought. “What’s this for, anyway? Doesn’t look normal…”
“I was hoping to show you what makes this section of beach so special, after the fireworks were over. It’s a UV flashlight.”
“Like a blacklight?”
“Yeah. There’s a ton of seaglass down here that glows in the dark. In the daylight, the color of the glass kind of matches your eyes.”
“Are you”—she pauses, thoughtfully—“trying to melt my panties off?”
A silent laugh bubbles up from my chest. “Not actively, no. But, you know, if it’s working, I’m not going to mess around with it.”
She titters. “It’s working, trust me. I just—I’m me. I come with baggage that I’m still working on.”
“That’s okay. I’m not about to ask for anything you’re not comfortable with. You’re at the helm here, captain.”
She sighs. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me for what should be common human courtesy.”
She’s silent for a minute before she peers back up at me. “Lava, Caleb. They’re melting into molten fuckin’ lava.”
The rest of the night goes off without any other hitches—and without any other hits to the family jewels, praise be—and now I’m pulling up to her house to drop her back off.
Though we shared a few more very heated make out sessions while we collected seaglass, I didn’t get the impression she would have accepted if I invited her back to my place for the night.
Like she said, she has trauma she’s working with, and simply dating is all new to her.
“Do you want to come in?” she shocks me by asking, while unclipping her seatbelt.
“M-A-R-C-U-S?”
“Is inside, yes, but I am fairly certain you’re already acquainted. Literally and biblically.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you sure that would be a good idea? What about your son?”
“Brody is at his friend Harrison’s for the night, and I think some open communication would absolutely be a good idea.”
I sigh and kill the ignition. Guess I’m going to go tackle the world’s most fucked up case of come meet the family head on.
I know I now have a better understanding of what happened all those summers ago, but…
fuck, that animosity is something I’ve carried with me for nearly ten years.
I’m not sure how to fully let that go. Things with us, over the past two weeks, have been a little awkward, to say the least, if not a bit terse at times. Here goes nothing, though, I guess.
“Unless you guys don’t think you can get along,” Lauren adds, hedging.
“He’s a part of your life. If I want to be a part of your life too, I need to start somewhere in accepting that, don’t I?”
She snorts, shaking her head. “You two are so fucking similar. It’s unbelievable, really, the way you can’t bury a grudge.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “He hurt me!” I remind her.
“He hurt too, Caleb. I remember the end of that last summer, and he was a sulking mess for a long time, trust me. I didn’t know why then, but it’s making a hell of a lot of sense now…”
I begrudgingly follow her up the walkway and into her house. Well, their house, I guess. I have to steel myself to take into consideration that they have a life together, and I’m the new guy here.
Also, my balls still hurt pretty fuckin' bad, so there's that cherry on top.
As soon as we step inside, Marcus pops out of the bathroom—toothbrush still in his mouth—wearing a strappy, silken slip nighty.
The lavender hued material is trimmed with a tiny bit of scroll lacework at the bust, where the chest hair on his pecs peeks out, and drops to about midway down his dark-haired, tree-trunk thighs.
The lustrous fabric clings to his body, calling my eyes to attention on his perfectly round ass.
He quickly darts back into the bathroom, and I hear him spit out the toothpaste. Over the sound of rushing water from the faucet, he yelps, “Oh, what the absolute fucking hell?! A little warning that you were bringing your boy-toy inside, Lauren?!”
“Head’s up, Marcus. Caleb’s here,” she snarks.
He pokes his head back out, plastering her with an unamused expression. “Wow. Thanks.”
Guess we’re just turning a blind eye to Marcus’ choice in apparel. This must be… commonplace, I take it? Fuck. I mean it’s hot, don’t get me wrong, but not something I ever expected seeing him stuffing his brawny ass into.
“Can you all turn around for a second so I can scoot into the bedroom to get changed?” he mutters, annoyance lacing his tone.
“Why?” Lauren asks. “We’re all grown adults here…”
“Because it’s embarrassing!” he whines, still hidden inside the bathroom.
“It’s fine,” I sign to Lauren.
“Caleb says it’s fine, babe.”
He glowers at me as he sheepishly steps out of the bathroom, nervously tugging at the base of the dress.
I wonder if this is something new for him, or if this was a part of himself he never shared with me when we were together.
Either way, I’m not going to stand here and lie to myself, pretending that it doesn’t turn me the fuck on.
Extending a bit of that civility Lauren was looking for, I sign to him, “It looks good on you. Don’t feel like you have to cover yourself up.”
He perks up a bit at that statement. He looks down at the nighty, then back up to me. “You seriously think so, or are you just saying that?”
“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it, Marcus. Doesn’t matter what I think though. It’s about how you feel.”
His chest puffs out a little more. “That’s damn right.”
Lauren’s eyes flit between the two of us.
“Look at you, getting along civilly. Do you think we can sit down and have a chat? I have a bit of a better gist of what happened between the two of you, but I don’t want to play the go-between to you two sorting out your shit.
I’m not going to play interpreter if I don’t have to. ”
Marcus pulls out a stool at the kitchen island, where the flowers I got for Lauren are sitting proudly on display, and encourages me to sit.
He does the same for her when she draws nearer as well.
He yanks open the door to the fridge. “You want anything to drink?” he asks both of us, pulling out a bottle of water.
I shake my head, but Lauren accepts the bottle from him. Then, he grabs one for himself, uncaps it, and I’m met with the sight of his throat bobbing deliciously as he chugs from it. He finally pulls the bottle away from his lips, wiping his mouth off with the back of his forearm.
He swallows down the last big gulp before plopping on another stool, spreading his legs in such a manner that, were there not a kitchen island between us, I’d see right up his skirt.
He snorts, pressing his thighs together once he must see where my gaze has tracked.
“Think I should have opted for something stronger than H2O for this conversation…
if that's all we're really doing anyway.
From where I'm sitting, it seems more like some eye-fucking is taking place.”
“Marcus,” Lauren hisses. “Get over your new-found egotism from the praise you just got, and fuckin’ clear the air together, alright?”
And, oh man, I do like her fire.