Chapter 11
dirks
“Papaya on the left,” I grumbled, brushing a rogue blonde curl out of my face.
I’d gotten sick of rotting on the couch, so I decided to organize my fridge by color and type of fruit and vegetable, because obviously, that was productive.
What I didn’t account for was the fact that vegetables come in every awkward size and shape imaginable, and suddenly, my perfect rainbow system looked like a chaotic produceTetris.
I’d worked out earlier in the apartment complex’s gym, so I was still in my sweat shorts, shirtless, and slightly damp from a half-assed shower that turned into me standing under hot water. It was then I decided to alphabetize and reorganize my fridge.
When a knock came at the door, I considered grabbing a shirt, but whoever it was, probably one of the guys from the team, didn’t matter enough to bother.
“Dude.” I complained as I walked over, pulling the door open with zero enthusiasm—
And froze. It wasn’t one of the guys.
It was her.
She was wearing a leopard print shirt that clung to her curves.
A black leather mini skirt hugged her hips—hips I remembered gripping, worshipping.
Her platinum blonde hair was loose and wavy, cascading past her shoulders like she hadn’t been caught in the wind or worried about the way she looked, even though she never had to.
Her tits, full, heavy, barely contained by the low neckline as her chest rose and fell with each breath. Red lipstick painted her mouth, and her blue eyes locked onto mine with something between challenge and hesitation.
I couldn’t speak. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I was breathing.
“Are you a ghost?”
She laughed, and before I could process the sound of it, her arms were around me.
It was like coming home after a long day .
. . no, after years of feeling empty. Years of waiting for something I couldn’t name until it was standing in front of me, wrapped in leopard print and smelling like strawberries.
“You’re here,” I murmured into her hair, the familiar scent of her shampoo hitting me like a sucker punch. “You’re here.”
She leaned back and smirked up at me. “You sound surprised.”
I huffed a laugh, but it cracked on the way out.
“You called,” she said softly. “So I came.”
I pulled back enough to look at her, really look at her, and it was hard not to fall back into old patterns. Into the warmth of her, the sharpness, the ache that somehow always felt good.
My hands stayed on her hips. I hadn’t realized I’d even put them there.
“You came? Like . . . you’re here to visit?”
She shook her head. “No, you big dummy. I moved back.”
I blinked. “You what?”
“I missed home. I missed—”
Her arms tightened around my neck, cutting off the rest, but I felt it.
Felt the way her body folded into mine like it never forgot how.
We were still standing in the stupid front hallway, door wide open, but I didn’t dare move.
I was scared that if I shifted even an inch, she’d vanish, and I’d realize my mind had finally broken.
“I missed you so much, Dirks,” she murmured, head dropping into the crook of my neck.
“You left Nova . . . your life.”
She didn’t say anything, and I knew I wasn’t getting the full story yet, but at the moment, I didn’t care. I tugged her fully inside, shutting the door with my foot. I kept my hands on her waist, grounding myself in the fact that this was real.
“You came here for me?”
Her eyes met mine. “Of course I did.”
“We have so much to talk about,” I said, and she nodded, lips parting like she might finally explain everything.
But before she could, I murmured, “You look beautiful, Luna girl.”
Then her hands were on me, tentative at first, brushing up the sides of my jaw, fingertips ghosting over the stubble.
“You don’t have a shirt on,” she murmured as her palms drifted down to the center of my chest.
“You’re right.”
Her hands didn’t stop. They moved deliberately. Her fingers dragged across my skin, a whisper of contact, enough to make my heart pound like I’d skated a full three periods.
Her eyes lifted, those bright, wicked blue eyes, and the air between us snapped tight.
“Dirks,” she breathed.
I nodded, jaw clenched, completely undone by her touch.
“Kiss me.”
I didn’t hesitate. The moment the words left her lips, I leaned in and met her mouth with mine, and everything else fell away.
Her lips were soft, yet her kiss was anything but.
It was hungry and aching and tender all at once, like she was pouring years of silence into every brush of her mouth against mine.
I gripped her waist, but she was already in control.
She tangled her fingers in my hair and pressed her body into mine.
She tasted like strawberries and trouble and every damn thing I’d been missing. Our mouths moved together slowly. We had time to savor this because we both knew how fragile it was to touch something we’d almost lost forever.
By the time I pulled away, I realized she’d backed me up against the wall. Pinned me there with nothing but her mouth and her hands.
“I don’t want to make this all physical,” she whispered as her fingers lingered on my chest.
I nodded, mostly because my breath had been stolen, and because if I opened my mouth, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to speak at all.
“C-Can I make you food?” I finally managed.
She smiled, a soft curve of her lips that made my chest ache. “Lunch would be nice.”
I nodded even though my brain was still trying to reboot. She walked farther into the apartment while I turned toward the kitchen.
“Looks the same as the last time I was here,” she said, glancing around.
The last time she was here . . . .
Her curls bounced against her shoulders as she stirred something in the pan, humming along, toes tapping on the tile. She reached up to grab a spice from the cabinet, stretching onto her tiptoes, the soft arch of her spine knocking the breath out of me.
“Jesus, Lune,” I murmured from the doorway. “You’re trying to kill me.”
She startled, then laughed. “You scared me.”
“You’re walking around my apartment naked,” I said, pushing off the frame and crossing to her. “I think that’s fair warning.”
She shot me a grin over her shoulder. “You complaining?”
“Not even a little.”
I slid my hands around her waist, pulling her back into me. She melted instantly, leaning her head against my chest as she kept stirring whatever was in the pan. I kissed the spot behind her ear, the one that always made her shiver.
“Smells good,” I murmured.
“So do you,” she said, nudging me with her hip. “Now stop distracting me.”
I didn’t. I kissed down her neck, feeling her smile against the air even though I couldn’t see it. She set the spoon down and turned in my arms, hooking her fingers into the waistband of my shorts.
“You cooking with me or just staring at my ass all morning?” she asked.
“I can multitask.”
She laughed again, and reached up to kiss me. Her hands slid up my chest.
We finished breakfast like that—touching, drifting around each other, nudging shoulders and hips as we moved about the kitchen. She fed me a bite straight from her fingers, licking the sauce from her thumb with a grin that nearly ruined me.
It was nothing dramatic, but a morning where everything felt right. The kind of moment you don’t realize is a memory until it’s gone.