24. Who Has the Best Ass?
Selene
I'm leaning against the marble island, surrounded by Carolina, Indya, and Emma.
Usually, I abhor group settings. I always feel like a mismatched puzzle piece, perpetually out of place amidst the female dynamics of giggles and shared secrets.
And yet... miraculously, taking a sip of water from my glass, I realize just how comfortable I'm actually starting to feel with them.
They are weird. Totally weird, and... maybe that helps.
Right now, for instance, the center of our camaraderie is a detailed, shameless anatomical evaluation.
"I'm just saying, it should be illegal," Carolina murmurs, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. Her gaze is shamelessly fixed on the opposite side of the open-concept room.
I follow her line of sight. She's staring straight at Cade and Cole's asses as they chat. Their glutes are tightly wrapped in two pairs of dark denim Wrangler jeans.
"I mean, just look at them," the ex-princess sighs, tipping her head toward them. "A matching set. Carved out of marble. TWO of them. Double the fun."
Emma, swallowed up by her massive beige sweater, blushes adorably but can't tear her eyes away from the guys. "Carolina... you can't choose both."
Carolina shrugs, a fluid movement that makes the strap of her t-shirt slip off her shoulder. "And why not? I've got two hands," she shoots back, then shoots a languid look and a brazen smile clear across the room straight at Cole. He intercepts the flirtation and answers with a rogue's wink.
Indya bursts out laughing, a warm, clear sound, and leans her elbows on the cold marble. "You should leave some for the needy, Carol. It's a matter of ethics."
Carolina rolls her eyes with theatrical flair. "Oh, please. You have your pick of the litter at the rodeo."
I listen to their banter in silence, grateful for the distraction.
Except... my own body betrays me.
My gaze, completely beyond my control, slides inexorably toward Ron.
He's laughing and joking with Levi and Josh. His hair is slightly damp and messy. He's wearing a long-sleeved shirt that clings to his chest, but the killing blow comes when he bends over to refill Ollie's water bowl.
The stiff fabric of his jeans pulls taut, and my traitorous eyes absolutely cannot help but stare at his ass. I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry, as the physical memory of last night—the weight of his body on me, his mouth—washes over me like a wave of lava.
I snap my gaze away, staring at a random spot on the counter.
Keep it together, Selene. Get a fucking grip.
I take a slow, deep breath, forcing my lungs to fill with air and my brain to shut down the X-rated projector playing in my head.
I force myself back to reality, latching onto the girls' voices.
"Seriously," Carolina is saying, tapping her lacquered nail against her empty mug, "if Aunt Tina has even a shred of television instinct, the first challenge absolutely has to involve physical exertion and zero shirts. I demand it contractually. We have to maximize Elm Hollow's human resources."
Emma covers her face with both hands, shaking her head so hard her blonde hair sways. "Um... I don't think I can handle Levi ripping off another shirt."
"You have to be brave, Emmy," Indya teases her, giving her a light, affectionate bump with her shoulder. "Inspecting the local goods is hard, grueling work, but someone's got to sacrifice themselves for the sake of show business."
I part my lips, forcing myself to join the conversation to prove—mostly to myself—that I am lucid and perfectly in control.
"I'm pretty sure Aunt Tina is aiming for maximum spectacle," I chime in, shoving my hands into the pockets of my cardigan.
Carolina points an index finger at me with a triumphant smile. "Well said! We're going to have some fun."
The girls giggle in unison, and for a moment, I actually relax. I let myself be lulled by this unexpected morning lightness, feeling for the first time not like a lonely intruder, but like an integral part of this little female circle.
Then, a shadow falls over the light pouring in from the windows, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of footsteps I know entirely too well.
I look up and he's standing right in front of me.
Ron is smiling, looking as fresh as a daisy despite what we did for the better part of the night.
In his right hand, he's holding a large, dark ceramic mug, a thin wisp of steam rising from it.
He stops in front of me and sets the mug on the marble, sliding it exactly a millimeter away from my fingers. The sharp, bitter, intense aroma of coffee hits my nostrils.
I look at the dark liquid, then slowly raise my eyes to his face.
"Did you make this for me?" I ask, my voice dropping to a vulnerable whisper.
Ron furrows his brow. That little, adorable crease forms between his eyebrows. His expression suddenly turns cautious, defensive.
"Yeah."
"H-how? Why?" I stammer.
He runs a hand over the back of his neck.
"It's just coffee, Selene," he murmurs. "You can throw it at me if you want. Sure, I'd much rather you drink it. You know... it's burning hot. I wouldn't..."
"Thank you."
I cut him off dead.
He freezes. His eyes go wide, visibly caught off guard.
He watches me in silence for two agonizing seconds.
Then, slowly, his features soften. The corner of his mouth lifts into a warm, intimate smile, and the deep dimple that pops on his cheek makes a blush flare across my face that I absolutely cannot control.
I drop my gaze to the mug, wrapping both hands around the hot ceramic. I take a sip.
Strong and bitter. No sugar. No milk. Just a tiny dash of cinnamon powder.
"This is... exactly how I take it," I confess.
"Well, that's lucky.”
His voice is a deep rasp. I look up and his eyes are right there, locked onto mine in a gaze so thick, so electric, that the entire kitchen fades into nothingness. The darkness of our room is in that look. The echo of my moans, and the promise that he isn't going to let me go.
"Willers! Get a move on, we need a hand out here!"
Josh's yell pops the bubble. Ron blinks, shaking his head. He shoots me one last, imperceptible smile, turns, and walks away, joining the guys with long strides, followed by Ollie's happy trot.
I stand frozen, glued to the counter, clutching the mug.
My brain is short-circuiting.
He... remembered how I take my coffee.
Is it pathetic that my heart is fluttering this much over something so stupid?
I... had almost completely forgotten running into him at the coffee shop.
A synchronized chorus of throat-clearing to my left brutally yanks me back down to earth.
I turn around in slow motion. Carolina, Indya, and Emma have all turned to look at me. All three are leaning against the counter, staring at me with eyes gleaming with pure, ruthless female mischief.
"So..." Carolina starts, crossing her arms under her breasts with a diabolical smirk. "How many times did you guys go at it last night?"
I nearly choke on my own breath. "W-what?!"
"Oh, come on, Selene," Indya piles on, gesturing at me with a fluid wave of her hand. "You have that unmistakable 'we had so much sex we bent the bed frame' glow. Not to mention, that is blatantly the morning-after coffee."
"He even knows how you take your coffee!" Emma squeaks, bringing her hands to her cheeks, literal heart-eyes forming. "That is so romantic! And incredibly hot."
Yeah...
"Forget romance," Carolina corrects her, leaning toward me. "I want the technical details. Stop being the enigmatic Selene, we're friends."
I catch fire. My cheeks are ablaze, a heat that scorches my neck and ears. The image of him on his knees between my thighs flashes through my mind.
"Knock it off," I hiss, desperately trying to use my usual icy tone. But the result is disastrous. I hide behind the mug, taking a sip of the burning hot coffee.
Their conspiring, crystal-clear laughter fills the kitchen. And, for the first time in years, I discover that getting ruthlessly teased by friends... isn't actually so bad.