Chapter 8
SHELBY
“What are you doing?” I failed to keep the alarm from my voice.
I couldn’t help it. My heart began spasming at the sight of him approaching the court—this time, shirtless.
As in…Jake had no shirt on. I could only watch, mouth agape, as he made his way toward me.
To make the situation worse, he then lifted an arm, his muscles doing their thing as he flipped his hat backward.
Whatever Jake had planned for me was going to be a problem.
Gracious. If he were anybody else coming toward me in that get-up, I’d probably call that sexy.
Of course, that wasn’t something I could say about Jake.
My friend, Jake. But by the looks of his tan, lined body, he was definitely a guy who had his shirt off a lot.
He had been lean back in high school, though he’d always had muscles.
But he had filled out substantially since then—and not in an unattractive way.
My traitorous fingers itched for my camera right now.
Jake held his arms out, his eyes shining as he pretended confusion. “What?”
“You whipped that thing off pretty easily for a guy who acted too shy to do it earlier today.”
“I am too shy. This is about teaching you a lesson.”
“You’re not shy. Put your shirt back on, Nancy.”
“Nope.”
My stress levels began to rise.
“I’m not playing shirts and skins with you.”
His eyes widened appreciatively. “Why? You want to be skins? We can switch.”
“Jake,” I warned in a low voice.
He grinned, folding his bare arms across his chest. “Keep talking. You’re proving my point nicely.”
I opened my mouth to deny and protest, but nothing came out.
It was difficult to express things when one's brain suddenly felt like an empty sheet of paper.
It was like one of those old typewriters when they ran out of ink.
You just press and press the key, and nothing prints on the paper.
I was out of ink. He took another step forward.
A small bubble of nervous laughter came out of my mouth. “I’ll prove myself with you wearing a shirt. This isn’t…we can’t…just…go put on a shirt.”
“Are you nervous, Tuck?”
The punk’s voice was brimming with laughter. He was so close to me now, and it was scrambling every last ounce of my brain power. It wasn’t just that he was half naked, it was the knowing gleam in his eyes. It was the way he sauntered toward me.
It wasn’t very friend-like.
I countered his steps, moving backward until my back butted up against the pole of the basketball hoop.
He stopped just before me, his body not touching mine, but the heat from his bare stomach seemed to jump ship and made me feel as though he were.
Heart pounding, I held my hands up between us as though I was being arrested. Trying desperately not to touch him.
“So,” he began, an amused look on his face as he peered into my eyes, “you don’t have a problem? I haven’t even tried to touch you yet.”
I was unable to remember a time when I’d been this discombobulated on a court. Trapped against the pole while a very attractive Jake Evans loomed over me wasn’t something I had ever dealt with before.
“I touch you all the time.”
“No. You punch my shoulder. You push. You slap. You’re kind of a bully, now that I think about it.”
I concentrated on breathing a steady, even breath. He was messing with me. Just like he used to. But even I had to admit, this was different than any game we’d ever played. But I could handle it.
I had to handle it.
“Your problem is, you put yourself right in the friend zone before a guy can ever make a move. Smacking the shoulder is something friends do,” he went on, obnoxiously comfortable in my space.
“It can be flirty in some situations, but not every time. If you want to avoid the friend zone, you gotta try a different approach.”
He slowly drew his hands up to mine, still hanging in the air between us, and clasped my fingers, bringing them down slowly between us.
“Breathe, Tuck.”
A breath sputtered from my lips as I let him hold my hands. “I hate you right now.”
“Such a sweet talker.”
I swallowed and attempted to pull my hands away, only to have his grip grow firmer. “I get it now. Softer touches. I’ll try not to hit you as much.”
He laughed, my favorite of his laughs. It was warm and husky, with a low tone that never failed to make me smile, especially when it was me who brought out that reaction. I had always loved that laugh. But I wasn’t sure why the sound of it was now igniting sparks down my spine.
“So do it, then.”
I brought my eyes up to his warily. “Do what? Hit you?”
“Touch me.”
My heart skipped a beat, but I forced my face to remain passive. “And then you’ll go away?”
He grinned. “Unless it’s good, then maybe I’ll come closer.”
I shifted my stance in an attempt to give us space.
He leaned forward to whisper in my ear, his hands settling on my shoulders. “Tuck. Relax. I’m just flirting with you. We’re practicing.”
He leaned down and put his head in my space while I told myself not to flinch. I could do this. He had just taken me off guard.
“I’m not coming on to you,” he said, squeezing my shoulders. “I’m literally handing over my body for science right now. It’s all pretend. I’m the safest person you can try this stuff out on. I no longer have a heart.”
If I skipped over the part about his no longer having a heart, the rest of his words did have a calming effect on me.
When I first approached him with this idea, I imagined us going on a walk where he would try to grab my hand or something.
Fully clothed, with me understanding exactly what he was going to do.
If this was his first lesson, I was terrified to imagine what came next.
But he was right. I had asked for this. After twenty-four hours of uncomfortable silence, followed by twenty minutes of laughing hysterically, we did eventually get over the braces mishap of high school.
I could handle a little playful touching.
It didn’t matter that this Jake felt vastly different than the old Jake. I could do this.
“Now pretend like I just said something sweet,” he said, his eyes shining merrily.
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“I would in your dreams.” I glowered at him, but he only smiled and added, “Now put your hand on my cheek.”
I placed my hand where he asked, perhaps a smidge rougher than I would with any sort of lover.
“You did it ag— I said no more slapping.” Jake’s voice sounded warm, which was in direct contrast to his words.
“I’m sorry. Old habits.”
He gave me an exasperated look before clearing his throat. “Alright. Now softly caress my cheek.”
There was a brief pause in whatever lesson this was for both of us to bend over in laughter, his robust and mine embarrassed and wheezy, before he brought us back, this time, his left hand landed on my waist.
I sucked in a breath, trying not to linger on the feel of his fingertips scorching my skin. “This is the worst.”
“Try running your hand through my hair.”
“I would never do that.”
“Tuck.” His voice was rimmed in exasperation. I imagined he’d never had to try this hard to get a girl to touch him before. A small part of me appreciated that thought.
“Fine.” I drew my eyes up to his and immediately regretted it.
I could maybe get through this lesson if I didn’t have his brown eyes staring directly into mine.
It was disconcerting. I was disconcerted.
Discombobulated. Disoriented. All the D words, actually.
I was one D word away from running like the wind back to my cabin and locking the door.
“This is really weird,” I said, still not moving to touch him. “What do I do again?”
“You have three lessons tonight. Caress my face. Then run your hands through my hair. And then we play to ten. There is only so much I can do for you like this.”
“We’re not playing lightning?” That was our usual basketball game of choice. It had been a few years since we’d played last, and I was itching to put him in his place.
“Not tonight.”
My eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
“You’ll see.”
His gaze had softened to something that looked out of place on Jake. Maybe not out of place with a different girl, but…out of place for me.
“TUCKER.”
I placed my hand back on his cheek, this time noticing the light scruff underneath my palm.
It had a manly feel. His whole face had filled out since high school.
Light laughter lines crinkled near his eyes, and his brown hair had been kissed by the sun, lightening the top strands just enough to give him his signature boyish look I loved.
Liked.
Enjoyed about Jake.
Slowly, I dragged my hand down his cheek, curling my fingertips slightly as I did so, until I hit the bottom of his chin. It felt like I had been given a moment to imagine what this might have felt like in a different life. A life where Jake and I existed with no boundaries between us.
I blinked and realized that neither of us had laughed for about ten whole seconds.
“Are you officially swooned right now?” I asked, attempting to bring us back.
“Just hoping the claw marks add to my manliness.”
I dropped my hand immediately, looking for marks. “Did I hurt you?”
He put my hand back, smiling. “No. You did fine.”
“Fine. Wow. Thanks.”
“You can’t expect to nail it on your first try.”
I tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ears. “So is caressing cheeks a new flirting technique I don’t know about?”
“It usually works best when you're kissing.”
My eyes flew up to his in a panic.
He chuckled before he motioned impatiently at his head. “Hair. Come on. Time’s wasting. I’m a single dad, and my kid wakes up before the sun.”
“This is stupid. This isn’t something I would ever do.”
“That’s not the point. It’s the act of touching you need to work on. You need to get comfortable enough that you don’t scare Briggs and kick him in the shins if he tries to make a move on you.”
“He was cheating, and I didn’t mean to,” I protested loudly.