Chapter 24 August
TWENTY-FOUR
AUGUST
There’s a knock at the door while I try to clean up the office. I look at my phone.
She’s five minutes early.
“Come in.”
“Hey.” Her voice is cheerful and not at all judgmental. Small stars are scattered along her forehead and chin.
I squint and tilt my head, wondering what those are and if she knows they’re on her face.
Her fingers touch them. “Oh, right. For a minute, I forgot these were on me.” She lets out a sheepish laugh. “Whoops.”
“What are they for?”
“Pimples,” she says matter-of-factly.
The last time she was here, she saw the mess I’ve created. It’s a bit more chaotic now with the added sticky notes.
I hear a deep, slow whistle come from Riley when she peers around the room.
“Jeeze, August,” she mutters.
Okay, maybe it’s worse than what she’s seen in the past. What can I say? I’m chaotic when overwhelmed. She already knows this.
“How are you getting anything done?”
“I’m not.”
“That was a dumb question.” She continues to look around at piles of paper.
“So, can you help me or not?” I bite my tongue after the words come out with a bit of an edge.
She turns on her heels, eyebrows raised and folds her arms across her chest. I step back.
“Sorry.” I give her a pleading glance. “I’m just really anxious and stressed. I’ve created a spreadsheet on my laptop, but I kind of suck at all the formulas to make it easier for myself.”
Her rough features soften when her eyebrows lower. “Show me.”
I grab my laptop from the desk and sit on the couch. She hesitates, staring at the cushion next to me.
“I promise I won’t bite.” I pat the seat.
The cushion dips, and she cautiously leans toward my shoulder to peek at the screen. “Where are you getting these numbers from?”
“Dad’s ledger. Let me get it.” I pass her the laptop and walk over to Dad’s desk, opening the drawer to find his ledger tucked away. “Here.”
She takes it, and I sit back down while she flips through it.
“I forgot how organized your dad is. I can’t believe he still uses this thing.”
The sound of the pages flipping is oddly soothing. It reminds me of when Dad and I sat here working in the quiet, and all I’d hear was pages being turned in this book.
“You know how much he loves his numbers and writing them down.”
We go through pages filled with rows of Dad’s cursive handwriting. There are seven rows: date, account number, explanation, post, debit, credit, and approval.
Dad has banker boxes stacked in the basement, on a shelf filled with ledgers from each year since he opened the store. Thirty years’ worth. People ask me why he chooses to keep those records on hand rather than in a spreadsheet. That’s just how he likes to work.
I don’t question it anymore.
“Okay.” Riley breathes out. “I can see that you’ve tried matching what he has onto the spreadsheet you’ve made. You should add a column on how the bill has been paid. I know it says debit or credit, but is that by check? Wire transfer?”
“Wire transfer.”
Riley’s nails tap against the keyboard as she creates extra rows. “Thank god for that. I was scared you were going to say by check.”
“That was the first thing I changed when I took over.”
We both let out a small laugh, and Riley’s shoulders relax.
She stops typing and focuses on me. “I’m glad you reached out to me.”
“You’re the only person I trust. Plus, you already know how my brain works, and I don’t have time to teach someone else how I think.”
“There’s nothing wrong with how you think. Everyone is different. I told you that the first day I tutored you after school. You see things differently, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
It’s like I’ve stepped into a time machine. Those words hit me like a ton of bricks. Soft bricks. I’m fourteen again, and my palms are sweaty. It’s like the kiss in Mexico never happened, and I’m a boy with a big crush all over again.
Her eyes are so golden it’s like sunlight reflecting off a crystal. They burn brighter, and I fall into them.
“Let’s get started,” she says.
It’s been over an hour since Riley and I started to sort through everything.
She’s been laser-focused, quiet—giddy even.
I’d steal glances when I could and take in what I could get: her full, pink lips’ puckering every time she scanned the numbers in writing, or the way she would squint at the screen and hum to herself.
We found our way to the floor while the laptop was propped on the coffee table. Our backs press against the soft couch, crumpled-up paper is scattered around us, and a paper bag that has our discarded lunch wrappers.
If she had to explain something to me, I’d lean in, looking at the screen. She smells like sea salt and sunshine. If I close my eyes, I’d think it’s summertime.
Riley shuffles a stack of papers after using Dad’s scanner, then creates a shared drive for us to use. Each document has its own folder and color: accounting is blue, vendors are orange, inventory is red, budgeting is purple, samples are yellow, and shipping is green.
“Okay, let’s look this over again.” Riley scrolls through the screen and clicks on the folder. The mouse drags on the wooden table while she clicks on each one. “How does everything look to you? Easy to find things?”
I nod. “A lot better. I feel like I can finally breathe.”
“Good, I’m glad.” She rubs her eyes and closes the laptop, then lets out a tired sigh as she leans her head back on the couch.
The muscles in my shoulders ease, and I unwind. Riley’s eyes are closed with her lips slightly parted. We’re inches away from each other, close enough that she could rest her head on my shoulder if she wanted to.
She took her hat off thirty minutes after she got here, and I’d do a double-take because I’m still not used to how short her hair is. She’s always had long, wavy hair. Now it’s just above her shoulders.
At the end of the day, she could shave her head, and she’d still be pretty to me. But I know she wouldn’t do that even if someone paid her to do it for fun.
The faintness of her breath still smells minty from the gum she was chewing earlier. This moment is precious to me, and I don’t want to ruin it.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
I don’t think she understands just how much I appreciate her right now. She’s saved me from being lost and feeling discouraged.
I miss her.
The look in her eyes is magnetic; it’s impossible to turn away from her when her gaze bounces from my eyes to my lips.
“Riley.” The sound of my voice borders on desperation.
“Yeah?” Her voice is small and inviting.
“Would you hate it if I told you that I still think about our kiss?”
She glances down at my lips and back to me, shaking her head. “I don’t blame you.” Her voice is hushed, with an undertone of teasing. “I’m a great kisser.”
With each second that passes, we inch closer to each other, gravity pulling us together.
The corner of my lip tugs into a smirk. “You’re okay, I guess.”
“You’re just saying that, so I kiss you again.”
“And what if I am?”
My hand hovers along her cheek when I finally let myself touch her. I watch her lashes flutter and her eyes close.
“Then do it, August. Kiss me, again.”
Our lips brush together when we go into a slow, lazy kiss. The type of kiss you want to drag out forever. It’d be no surprise if she could hear the pounding of my heart. She must know that I’m all hers. The love I have for this woman barrels out from me.
The taste of mint still lingers when her tongue meets mine. She brushes her fingers through the thickness of my hair and grips part of it before resting it on my nape.
What started out controlled and calm turns into need and desire.
Hooking my hands onto her hips, I pull her on top of me, and she meets me halfway, moving her leg across my lap. The lens of my glasses rubs on my face as we continue, ignoring the fact that they're going to be dirty and smudged.
My eyes stay shut because I'm afraid if they open, then I'll wake up from this moment.
She grinds back and forth, and I feel my cock begging for more. The harder she grinds, the harder I get. I want her to feel me. I need her to want me.
Her hips continue to rock on top of me as she uses my dick for her pleasure. Her hand tugs at my hair at the same time she nips at my bottom lip.
If she keeps doing this, I'm going to come in my pants.
Harder and faster, one small moan after another, her breathing becomes ragged like she's going to come with me. I feel myself creeping closer to the edge. We ride the high that's taken over, whether it's from sexual frustration or wanting to stop thinking about the problems we're both facing.
I hear a knock at the door, and we go still. Any moment now, we’re going to get caught like a couple of teenagers. Her chest rises and falls as she catches her breath. Riley looks at the door and then at me. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I need to go," she blurts, pulling herself up. She looks around and grabs her hat from my desk, slipping on her shoes, and then opens the door.
James stands in front of her. "Oh, I didn't know you were here." He looks at me, then back at Riley, confused. "Wait, why are you here?"
"I was just leaving." Riley scoots around him.
Without looking back at me or saying another word, she's gone.