Chapter Fifteen #2
The information she shares makes me want to reach out and comfort her.
From what I’ve seen, she appears so content and happy with her life.
Yet I can’t help but wonder whether she harbors questions about her father or her mother’s passing.
My mind warns me to hold back, but a small part of my charred heart urges me to respond physically, just as my mom always did for me.
I gently brush her wrist with my hand, catching her attention.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. It may not mean much, but it’s my way of showing that I hear her.
She glances down at where my hand touches her wrist, then looks back up at me, her eyes sparkling with a reassuring smile.
“It’s okay…really. My aunt has always been there for me.
” I pull my hand back, immediately regretting the gesture, yet longing to feel her soft skin against mine once more.
I clear my throat and ask, “What was your mother’s name?”
Raina lets out a soft sigh, her smile brightening. “Adele,” she replies. Now it makes sense where her middle name comes from. It’s a lovely name, but it doesn’t compare to her first name—Raina. She exhales deeply, stands up, and brushes off the back of her jeans.
“What are you doing?” I inquire.
She looks down at me, a playful glint in her eyes.
“Getting in the water, duh.” I watch as she peels off her thin mauve pullover, revealing the top of her bathing suit underneath.
In one fluid motion, she unbuttons her jeans and slides them down her waist and hips.
With a toss, she flings them aside with her backpack and top.
My gaze travels over her figure, and I notice her one-piece bathing suit, a rich magenta that hugs her frame perfectly.
It fits snug, cut low at the chest to reveal just a small amount of tasteful cleavage.
My eyes dance down to her waist, where a small cutout sits right above her belly button, partially hidden beneath the fabric.
In that moment, I realize how delicate her frame is.
And I can’t help but think about how easy it would be to lift her up and have her straddle my lap.
“Are you just going to gawk, or are you getting in with me?” Raina taunts, a playful laugh escaping her perfect lips.
I glance down, feeling a rush of adrenaline.
I crack my neck, the sound almost satisfying, before finally standing up.
I shift my leather jacket to the side, the cool fabric sliding off my arms. I then peel off my jeans, turning back to face her.
Raina stands there, arms crossed, a playful challenge etched on her face.
Her gaze quickly flits upward, almost like she’s scrutinizing me.
I can feel her eyes wandering along the lines of my neck, tracing the path down my arm to where my sleeve ends, revealing the tapestry of scars and tattoos.
As my gaze locks with her striking, green eyes, I notice the spark of curiosity igniting.
It’s a refreshing change. Throughout my years, I’ve encountered many reactions to my scars.
Some people react with palpable disgust, unable to mask their shock.
Others avert their gaze like I’m some sort of contagion, refusing to get too close.
As a teenager, their reactions stung. But as I grew older, I learned to push those feelings aside, burying them deep alongside the other ghosts from my past.
This situation is different with her. She doesn’t seem repulsed or uneasy around them.
Instead, her eyes reveal a deeper fascination, as if she’s imagining the stories behind each scar and tattoo.
Most women I’ve interacted with tend to avoid looking at them or drawing attention to them, including Beck.
Honestly, I’ve always appreciated that; I never wanted to discuss them.
I’ve accepted their existence, but it’s easier to pretend they don’t exist in the company of others.
With her, though, it’s different. I don’t feel uncomfortable or like I need to cover them up.
There’s a part of me that wants to take off my shirt and let her explore every inch of the turmoil that’s marked my body.
But doing that would reveal something deeper—the self-inflicted wounds that never truly heal.
I quickly snap out of my thoughts, a small grin forming on my lips.
“Are you just going to gawk, or are we getting in the water?” I notice her jerk a little, as if I’ve broken some kind of spell.
Instead of firing back with a witty comeback as I expect, she turns back towards the ledge, peering down.
She fidgets with her fingers, as if bracing herself for the jump. “When you jump, make sure to—” My words die as she leaps off the ledge mid-sentence. I step to the edge to look down, and Raina surfaces from the water with a shriek.
“Oh my gosh…the water is chilly!”
I brace myself, wishing I had smoked a cigarette before agreeing to get in.
I push the craving aside, and dive in. As I sink beneath the surface, the water grows colder the deeper I go.
For a brief moment, I hear nothing—not even the voices in my mind.
If I could hold my breath longer, I would linger down here a little while more.
It’s peaceful. Eventually, I swim back up, gasping for air.
Raina floats just a few feet away, staring at me.
“Did you get lost down there?” she teases.
I wipe my face with my hand. “Was I really under that long?”
She shifts a bit closer, pursing her lips. “I didn’t keep track, but it felt like ages.”
I squint at her, tilting my head. “Were you worried about me, Raina?” I murmur.
She splashes a bit of water at me. “Maybe…does that bother you?” I glide closer, closing the gap between us. Her wet, blonde hair sticks to her face and droplets run down her cheeks, kissing her freckles along the way. She’s captivating to watch.
“Does it bother you…that I think about you when you’re not near me?
” I confess, letting my thoughts spill out.
She inhales sharply before biting her bottom lip and shaking her head.
I can’t help but notice how her bottom lip pouts slightly.
Slowly, I run my index finger along it. She doesn’t pull away; instead, she shifts her gaze between my eyes, allowing me to feel the softness of her lips.
Everything around us falls silent, the only sound piercing the stillness is the heavy rhythm of our breathing.
I find myself imagining what it would be like to feel her lips pressed against mine, and for a short moment, I wonder if she’s thought about it, too.
My daydream is abruptly interrupted when Raina’s tongue brushes against my finger, causing me to jerk it back instinctively, jolting me back to reality.
“I-I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to,” she stammers.
Her cheeks flush pink as she looks away, embarrassment evident on her face.
What the hell am I doing? I know better than this.
Frustrated, I sweep my damp hair back from my forehead and turn my gaze away from her.
“I need a smoke,” I mutter, swimming toward the small area where we usually climb. Glancing over my shoulder, I gesture for her to follow. She remains silent, but obediently comes along.
As we reach the top, I head straight for my stuff lying on the ground.
I dig into my pockets for my Zippo and a cigarette, quickly lighting it and savoring the smoke as it fills my lungs before I exhale.
The anxiety I felt starts to fade, replaced by a sense of relief.
I turn my attention back to her, and I notice she’s absorbed in her phone—she might be texting Dipshit right now.
I take another drag and push the thought aside.
“Let’s dry off a bit, then I can get you home before dark,” I suggest. She nods, nervously chewing on the inside of her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” she suddenly blurts out. I focus on her again, shaking my head.
“No...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She brushes her hair back, staring down at the ground. “Why?” she asks.
I take a deep breath, feeling frustration build.
“What do you mean why, Raina? For one, I don’t date…
plus, whatever this is…it won’t work,” I snap, and immediately I can see the impact of my words in her eyes.
Damn it. It wasn’t that serious, and instead I let it spiral.
I reach out, ready to apologize again for being an idiot.
Suddenly, Raina’s head snaps toward the trail.
“Ezra…?” a familiar voice calls beside me. My heart races, and the hair on my neck stands on end. I turn to look, trying to keep my expression neutral.
“Beck…”