Chapter Twenty-Two #2
“You need someone to get your back,” Frankie was saying. “Micah can do it.”
Wait. What?
John’s gaze slid to Micah again, and this time the eye contact caught and held.
If you don’t want to do it, say no , he’d told her last night about the reunion tour, as if it were that easy, just to figure out what you wanted and then to tell other people what that was.
He seemed to be saying something similar with his eyes now, something along the lines of You don’t have to .
Or maybe he didn’t want her to touch him, but speaking up went both ways.
She’d let him say that if it was how he felt.
She scooted back on the lounger, straddling it to leave room right in front of her for John to sit. “Sunscreen?” she asked, holding her hand out.
Frankie gave her the bottle, and Micah tried to smile in a way that seemed friendly and unbothered, that acted like last night had never happened. “Come on, Florida boy,” she said. “You don’t want to burn.”
He hesitated only for a second before he lowered himself onto the lounger, straddling it, too, so he could shift closer to Micah.
She had a sudden core memory of a time they’d been like this, only their places had been switched, and he’d had his chin on her shoulder.
It’s going to be okay , he’d said in her ear, and she could remember the way he’d said it, the way she’d believed him, even though she could no longer even recall what event had necessitated the assurance.
She had the strongest urge to put her chin on his shoulder now, and hug him tight, but of course she couldn’t do that. So instead she just squirted some sunscreen onto her fingers, and touched them to the spot at the top of John’s spine.
He tensed, relaxing as she started rubbing the sunscreen onto his skin.
“Cold?” she asked.
“A bit,” he said. “It’s fine.”
When she went back for more lotion, she warmed it between her hands before touching John again.
She spread her palms over his shoulder blades, unable to resist digging in a little as she worked the lotion in.
His skin was so warm, his shoulders so broad, she wanted to touch him like this forever.
I’m sorry about what I said last night , she tried to say with her hands.
I didn’t mean it. She slid her hands all the way down to his lower back, where she used her thumbs to rub sunscreen into the twin dimples there. Come back to me.
John gave a grunt, and she paused, her hands still near his waist.
“Everything okay?”
He cleared his throat. “You almost done?” he said. “Seems like you got everywhere.”
While she’d been lost in her own thoughts, enjoying this chance to touch him, he’d probably been counting down the seconds until the whole ordeal was over.
She spread the lotion that was still on her hands along his rib cage, wanting to ensure she really did get everywhere but also unable to resist one more opportunity.
Then she lightly slapped his back, like it was the trunk of a car she was telling to move on.
“There you go,” she said.
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Thanks.”
He grabbed his book from where he’d set it next to the chair, and she didn’t want him to leave yet. She held the sunscreen out to him.
“Do me?”
She thought she’d done a decent job of slathering it all over herself before she’d come out there, but of course there would be places she couldn’t reach.
It wasn’t just that she wanted John to touch her…
but that was most of it. She could’ve easily asked Frankie, and would have if John hadn’t come up when he did.
For a second she thought that was exactly what John was going to suggest—that she just ask Frankie to do it instead.
But then he took the bottle from her hand, gesturing for her to turn around.
She awkwardly brought her leg up and over, practically falling into John’s lap until she was seated sideways on the lounger, John next to her.
She pulled her ponytail over her shoulder, presenting her back to him.
Either John had learned from her (probable) or he was just naturally more considerate than her (confirmed), because the minute he touched her, his hands were warm and sure.
She did get a shiver down her spine when he ran his hands down the length of her back, but she couldn’t blame that on the sunscreen.
She felt like she could feel every callus on his fingertips, every tiny adjustment of pressure as he ventured slightly under the outline of her bathing suit.
John was very thorough. But then, she knew that.
He was working under the straps of her bathing suit now, and she slid them partway down so he had better access to her shoulders, holding the front of her bathing suit up just in case it got any ideas.
His hands felt so good, and when he squeezed the place where her shoulder curved up to her neck she couldn’t help but moan.
“Did you already get here?” he asked, brushing a featherlight touch across the half circle of skin that showed where her jeans hung loose on her hips, revealing the cut of the swimsuit.
She had already taken care of that part, had put sunscreen all over her legs even though they were mostly covered because she burned easily and hadn’t wanted to take any chances. But she didn’t want this to be over, so she shook her head.
John squirted more sunscreen into his hand, rubbing it in circles across the exposed skin at her hips, his fingers sliding under the waistband of her jeans to ensure he didn’t miss a spot.
It reminded her so much of what they’d done the night before—his hand down her pants, his other hand over her mouth, that fast, desperate orgasm—that she had to clench her thighs against the sudden pulse in her clit.
One of the most erotic experiences of her life and then she’d gone and ruined it all afterward.
The sound of the bottle cap snapping shut made her eyes fly open. She’d barely been aware that she’d closed them in the first place.
John was already getting up from the lounger, and the shift from his weight lifting almost sent her toppling forward, except he reached down to steady her by the shoulder.
Almost as soon as he’d done it, he drew back, like somehow even after he’d just had his hands all over her this was going too far.
“I’ll see you both later,” he said. “Maybe after—”
But Micah never got to hear what he was going to say, or figure out if she would’ve been brave enough to follow him and ask if they could talk. Steve and Ryder walked up at exactly that moment, talking animatedly about something.
“Oh good,” Ryder said as he approached. “Everyone’s here. What do you think makes more sense—to celebrate the anniversary of an album that flopped, or one that actually sold some copies?”
“Fifteen is a round number, though,” Steve said. “Anniversary stuff is always around a round number.”
“Nobody cares about the number ,” Ryder said. “They care about the music , and if they didn’t care about the music then, they won’t care about it now.”
Micah’s stomach clenched. “What are we talking about?” she asked, even though she already knew. She just wanted to make him say it.
Ryder glanced down at her. Her bathing suit straps were still halfway off her shoulders, she realized, and she reached up to adjust them.
His gaze on her made her skin crawl. She stood up, not wanting to be lower than him for this conversation.
They were almost the exact same height—in heels, she towered over him, which was why he’d never liked her to wear heels.
“Move your, lose your!” Steve declared, jumping onto the lounger.
“I thought John was going to talk to you,” Ryder said, shooting an irritated look John’s way. “We were discussing the possibility of getting ElectricOh! back together, just for a limited tour.”
“No.”
“Or a couple festival dates. There’s one in Las Vegas that—”
“No.”
Ryder held up his hands, like he was trying to get her to calm down, even though she hadn’t raised her voice. She remembered that move from when they’d dated. She’d always hated it.
“I know you think you alone get to make every band decision,” Ryder said. “But we get to have a say in our careers, too. And if we say we want to do this, then—”
“She said no,” John said. “And whatever we do, it has to be unanimous. If she says no, then it’s a no.”
“That’s always been your problem, hasn’t it?” Ryder said with a smirk. “You’ve never known how to turn a no into a yes .”
John just looked at him. There was something in his eyes that she’d never seen there before.
He could shut Ryder down in an instant, of course, could tell him all the ways he’d had her saying yes as recently as a few hours ago, could play right into the alpha bullshit Ryder had always introduced into the band dynamic.
Sometimes she thought that so much of what had happened would’ve never gone down if he hadn’t been a senior when they were freshmen, but they weren’t freshmen anymore.
“That,” John said, “is an extremely fucked-up thing to say.”
Frankie was glancing between the two of them, taking a long sip from their cocktail that ended in the ragged slurp of an empty cup. “All right,” they said. “We don’t need to go down this road.”
“I wouldn’t care if you did ElectricOh! covers with your new band,” Steve said. “That could be cool.”
“I’m not going to do covers of my own songs!
” Ryder yelled, before seeming to remember that they were on a beach with other people, some of whom had turned around to see what was going on.
“I want to know how everyone would’ve voted—not because of what anyone else said, but based on what you actually want as an individual member of the band. Obviously I’m a vote for yes . Steve?”