by Lane Hart
“Maybe so. Thanks for checking,” I tell her, but I don’t thank her for the Sophie and Royal info, because now there’s nothing left to do but spend the next few days wondering if something is going on between them.
Why else would he spend the night with her?
Chapter 25
Royal
“Thanks for the ride,” I tell Sophie when she pulls up at the camp’s drop off, bringing back memories of two years ago when I refused to get out of my dad’s car.
Thank fuck I did, or I would’ve missed out on getting to know Hannah…
“Are you sure you don’t need me to pick you up and drive you home when it’s over?” Soph asks as I open the door and climb out with my bag.
“Nah. Hannah will give me a ride back,” I tell her.
“Awfully confident, aren’t you?”
“I’ve got this,” I reply. “But if things fall through with Hannah, I’ll give you a call.”
“All right then. Have fun!”
“Yes, mother,” I tease before I shut the door on her.
At check-in, I looked for Hannah but didn’t see her.
So, after dropping my things off in my room, a single because I’m a counselor this year, thank fuck, I take a chance and sneak up through the back entrance of Hannah’s old dorm and knock on the first door.
Thankfully, it is Hannah who answers.
“You’re here,” she says, sounding surprised and not exactly thrilled. And somehow, even after two years, she looks exactly the same. Well, except her hazel eyes are a little more cynical and less optimistic. I hate that I probably had something to do with that change.
“I’m here. I told you I would be,” I remind her when I stop staring at her face long enough to slip inside her room.
Hannah closes the door behind me and says, “Well, I wasn’t sure if you might have changed your mind over the last few weeks.”
There it is. Her uncertainty whenever I’m concerned.
“Why do you think I might have changed my mind?” I ask.
“Oh, no reason,” she says, leaning her back against the door. I take the rest of her in, the sexy, black, cotton shorts that should be outlawed by the camp, and a red tank top with her usual braid draped lazily over her shoulder.
“Are you sure there’s no particular reason why you thought I wouldn’t show?” I ask again. I’m not stupid. I figured Aric or Maddie would’ve seen me at Sophie’s and ran their mouths without knowing a goddamn thing about why I was staying with her. They just assume the worst about me like everyone else.
“Well,” Hannah starts. “I did sort of hear about you spending a few nights with Sophie after graduation.”
“That’s not true,” I tell her. “I spent every night after graduation with Sophie before coming here today.”
Hannah’s jaw drops comically before I continue explaining. “Sophie offered to let me stay with her after my dad kicked me out of the house.”
“Oh,” she mutters, finally closing her gaping jaw. “And did you and she…”
“Did we what?” I ask with a grin, wanting to hear her say it, to acknowledge that she thought about it and cared.
“Did you…sleep together?”
Grinning wider, I lean in and kiss her parted lips once before pulling away, mostly just because I can’t resist. It’s been too fucking long since I’ve kissed her. I barely remember the one at homecoming before we started going at it. And at prom, after one dance with me, Hannah said goodbye and disappeared.
“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” I tell her. “And no, I haven’t slept in the same bed or even the same room with Sophie. And I definitely didn’t fuck her.”
“You didn’t?”
“Hell no. Sophie’s like a little sister or an annoying monkey that never gets off my back. But she’s been cool, letting me crash with her since Aric is living with Maddie now and Blake had to leave for football camp at Duke.”
“So, she was your only option?”
“Pretty much.”
“And you don’t think she’s pretty or hot or whatever?” Hannah asks, making me kiss her lips again.
“Sophie is trying to bring us together, not break us apart, that I’m absolutely certain of. I won’t be staying with her again, so you don’t need to worry about that.”
“I wasn’t worried…” Hannah trails off, unable to finish that untrue statement. “What about when you leave camp, though? Where will you stay if your dad kicked you out? I’m sorry about that, by the way…”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got it all figured out, baby.”
When I lean in to kiss her again, her palms slap against my chest to stop me when I’m just an inch away from her lips. “I thought we agreed to no sex.”
“Is kissing now considered a form of sex?” I tease her.
“No, but…”
“I agreed to no sex, but I didn’t agree to keep my hands or mouth off of you. Any objections?”
“Only that the kissing could lead to more, and more could lead to sex,” she explains.
“It won’t. I promise, okay?” I assure her, because no matter how much I want to be inside of her again, I know it’ll just make it that much harder to leave her in a month. So, we can do other things and keep the line drawn there, refusing to cross it. The next four weeks are about making up for being a dick to her for the past few years. Nothing else. The truth is, we never should’ve crossed that line before when we were here and only sixteen. I know Hannah regrets giving me her virginity, so all I want is to try and lessen that disappointment as much as I can.
“Okay,” Hannah eventually agrees to my amendment. Grabbing the sides of my face, she pulls my mouth down to hers and finally kisses me back.
And fuck, if I don’t nearly break down and try to cross our line within the first ten minutes of drawing it.
Hannah
I just might be the most naïve girl in the world for believing Royal. If I had my phone, I would call Maddie and ask her opinion about whether or not he’s lying about not sleeping with Sophie.
Since I can’t, I’m going to go with my gut and trust him. And kiss him. A lot.
In fact, we’ve been plastered together against the door for so long, I’m probably leaving an ass imprint.
But being on the receiving end of Royal’s hot, demanding kiss feels too good to stop. And god knows I wish we could do more. I want to do more with Royal, even if it’s stupid.
Ironically enough, he’s the one who eventually steps back, taking his talented tongue away, along with his rock-hard cock from where it was trying to penetrate its way through my stomach.
“I better go,” he says breathlessly, which sucks.
“So soon?”
“We’ve got a busy day of doing good tomorrow, right?” he asks with a grin.
“Right,” I agree. “I made sure we’re put in charge of the same group.”
“Good. Otherwise I would’ve had to bail on mine to find yours.”
“So, I’ll see you in the morning?” I ask.
“Yeah. How about we meet for breakfast at six-fifteen?” he suggests.
“No hiding this time?”
“No hiding,” he replies. “Good night.”
“Night,” I tell him before he places a kiss on my cheek and then peels me away from the door so he can escape.
As soon as he’s gone, all the usual doubts return in the silence no matter how hard I try to push them aside.
The next day is a hotter than hell July scorcher with record-breaking temperatures. And what is our group assigned to do? Work outside in the midday sun, planting flowers and trees around a hospice center.
It’s impossible to be annoyed about being close to heatstroke when I know the people inside are barely clinging to life, about to leave this world and their loved ones forever.
At some point, though, I get so weak that I have to go inside to cool off before I pass out in the soil.
“Break time! Everyone take ten in the shade!” I tel
l our crew of six, who all drop down and sit where they were standing.
As I hand out water to each of them, I look for Royal, but he’s no longer on my side of the building with our campers, who have been taking turns planting and visiting patients to get out of the sun. Since I’ve been outside the entire four hours, until I take a few minutes to recover, I’m not physically capable of going to look for him. For all I know, Royal’s been inside all along, lying on an empty bed with his feet up, watching gameshows and soap operas while the rest of us bust our butts. That’s what the old Royal of two years ago would be doing.
Inside the facility, I wash my gritty hands in the bathroom sink, trying to remove as much soil from underneath my fingernails as I can, then splash some cold water on my face before drying off some of the sweat underneath my shirt with a paper towel. I’m already feeling better when I walk out into the lobby to guzzle my water. That’s when I notice at least four nurses crowded around one of the bay windows.
“Yum-mee,” one of the women drawls.
“I swear I’ve never been bi-curious before now,” a male nurse tells the rest of the group of ladies, making them all giggle.
“If anyone could turn a man gay, it would be him.”
“Mmm, mmm, mmm,” another mutters.
And finally my exhausted brain clicks, and I realize that they must be looking at Royal working or possibly just suntanning on the other side of the building.
Once I’m able to walk on my wobbly legs again, I ease over and take in the view over their shoulders.
Much to my surprise, I find Royal is actually working. At the moment, he’s hauling a bag of mulch over his broad, muscular shoulder, shirtless, in just his athletic shoes and his black nylon shorts riding low on his indented hips. His sculpted abs and pecs are on full display with sweat glistening down them like tiny waterfalls. His biceps strain as he carefully pours out and spreads the mulch with a rake and then goes over to grab another bag.
Not only am I impressed with his surprising work ethic, but he looks downright delicious. I don’t think sweat has ever been more appetizing on a man as it is in this moment. But there’s something else…
“Oh great! He’s going to get sunburnt to a crisp again,” I remark aloud, causing the nurses to all startle before turning around to look at me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your ogling.”
“That man wouldn’t happen to be yours, would he?” the “yummy” woman asks.
“No. I mean, yeah, I guess you could say he’s sort of mine,” I reply with the most wishy-washiest of answers. “And now I better go find some sunscreen to slather all over him.”
“You lucky, lucky girl,” the “mmm-mmm” lady tells me. “Don’t you dare miss a single inch of his fine-looking body!”
“I won’t!” I promise them with a smile on the way out.
Grabbing up the sunscreen from my tote bag I left underneath a tree in the shade, I go around and offer it to the campers who touch up their faces and arms before making my way around the other side of the building to where Royal is pouring the last bag of mulch.
Holy crap! He’s almost finished redoing all of the plant beds on this side when it’s taken me and six campers combined to complete the other.
“How’s it going on your side?” he asks when he looks up and sees me watching him. “I’m almost finished.”
“It’s not a race,” I joke with him. “And if you don’t get some sunscreen on, you’re gonna be a lobster tonight.”
“Oh shit,” he says as he tosses the empty mulch bag to the ground and looks down at his arms and then his stomach. “I didn’t even think about that. I was just so hot I had to ditch my shirt to get some relief.”
Relief. The word instantly invokes a certain kind of relief that I’ve always associated with the mostly naked man standing in front of me. Long gone is the lean sixteen-year-old boy who was so lazy he wouldn’t lift a finger the first week of camp.
“Everyone inside noticed your obvious lack of a shirt,” I remark.
“What?” he asks.
“Just come here and put on some SPF fifty,” I tell him.
“My hands are dirty, so you’ll have to rub it in for me,” he remarks as he strolls up to me with a grin. An actual grin, not his usual evil smirk, making his face even more handsome than usual.
“I suppose I can handle touching your hard, sweaty body.”
“Once you start touching me, I’ll probably get hard somewhere else,” he warns with an arched eyebrow.
“You better not,” I warn him. “You have a rather large audience.”
“Huh?” he asks.
“Over on your left, first window,” I say before I squeeze a palmful of sunscreen into my hand and then slap it on his broad chest to start rubbing it in. He even has a smattering of reddish-brown chest hair now! When did that happen?
“Wow. How long have they been watching?” Royal asks when he gives them a big smile and a wave of his hand.
“For a while now.”
“And they don’t seem to be embarrassed enough at getting caught to actually stop either.”
His head stays turned in the direction of the window until my fingertips move lower, rubbing the lotion over his abs and around the waistband of his shorts. That’s when his head whips around to look down at what I’m doing.
“I really wish you would keep going a little lower.”
“In front of witnesses? No way,” I tell him.
“I’m pretty sure it’s too late. I’m sunburnt,” Royal informs me. “Maybe you could come to my room tonight and rub lotion on my dick to take my mind off the burning.”
“Nice try, but hand jobs are considered a form of sex,” I remind him.
“What if you just come to my room and watch me rub one out myself? Is that sex?”
“N-no, I don’t think so,” I stammer at the sudden mental image of him getting himself off. I still haven’t forgotten the first of many times he did it in my dorm room and how hot it was.
“So, it’s a date?” Royal asks.
“It’s a date,” I agree. “Now turn around, so I can get your shoulders and back.”
“Yes, ma’am. Take your time,” he says over his shoulder when he spins around.
If my panties weren’t wringing wet with sweat, they would be dripping now, that’s the reaction I have to just touching this man. If his hands were on me in the same way, I would probably orgasm without any direct contact to my clit.
I am in soooo much trouble this summer.
Chapter 26
Royal
I work out regularly, can run several miles without getting winded; but for some reason, doing actual physical labor is brutal.
It could also be the hot sun, lack of proper hydration, and getting a little sunburnt that’s contributed to the fact that, after my shower, I put on a pair of white boxer briefs and then flopped down on my bed and haven’t moved an inch since except to breathe.
When there’s a soft knock on my door, I simply say, “Come in. It’s open.”
Thankfully, Hannah heard me and lets herself into my room a moment later.
“Hey,” I say in greeting, rolling my neck toward the door to see her but unable to lift it.
“Hey. You exhausted too?”
“Yes,” I answer, too tired to even feel ashamed of admitting that weakness. “I don’t think I’ve ever been too wiped out to jerk off before, but here we are.” I pat the mattress lightly where my palm is flattened next to me. “Take a load off. You must be as beat as I am.”
“I am. And I just spent half an hour checking dorm rooms for boys.” With a groan, Hannah stretches out beside me on the bed, laying on her side, her head on one half of my pillow.
“I’m glad we finished the gardening today, because otherwise I would’ve been MIA tomorrow,” I tell her. “What’s in store for us, anyway?”
“Not sure,” Hannah says as she closes her eyes and yawns, not bothering to cover her mouth. “All I know is that, if it’s
something outdoors, I’m going to demand we have a transfer.”
“Good. Indoors is good.”
“Yeah,” she agrees as my eyelids drift closed. “At least you don’t look too red. Got the sunscreen on just in time.”
“Thank fuck,” I reply, remembering how miserable I was with the sunburn for days last time. “Mind if we just talk and not lift a finger tonight?”
“Fine by me.”
“You’ve barely talked to me in two years,” I point out.
“Water under the bridge,” Hannah says. Then, “What do you want to talk about?”
“You. What are your plans for the fall? You got into Madison, right?”
“Yep. Full scholarship too,” she says. And when I open my eyes to see her face, she’s smiling and looking right at me.
“That’s great,” I tell her. “You gonna study art?”
“Art education is the plan right now.”
“So you want to teach?” I say. “I thought you wanted to, like, create it or whatever you call it.”
“I do, but being an artist is not exactly practical or a reliable form of income.”
“Why can’t you teach and try to sell your own work?” I ask her.
“That’s possible, I guess. One thing at a time, though, and that’s getting through the next four years. Besides, I thought you said my drawings were boring.”
“I just said that to be a dick. Most things I say is just to be a dick,” I admit to her. “You’ve got more talent in your pinkie than I have in my whole body.”
“That’s not true!” Hannah exclaims.
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not. What are your plans for the future anyway?” she asks.
While I hate keeping secrets from her, I don’t want to tell her and ruin the short month we have together. Besides, I’m not exactly lying when I say, “I want to sleep until next week. That’s as far into the future as I want to think about.”
“Me too,” she agrees. “Don’t you need to do a room check before we pass out?”