Beneath Your Beautiful

by Tamsyn Bester

  “Hi,” she whispers. Her musical voice moves through my body and jolts me from my daze.

  “What are you doing here?” The words are out of my mouth before I realize what I’m saying. Hurt flashes across her face at the sound of my accusatory tone and I want to kick myself in the nuts for being such an ass. It just goes to show what being around this gorgeous girl does to me.

  “This is my family,” she states matter-of-factly, “I was invited.”

  Of course she was invited. Coach Morgan is her uncle after all.

  Thank you Captain Obvious…

  Dumbass…

  “Sorry, of course, come in,” I barely choke the words out and gesture for her to come in. I catch a trace of her perfume and almost lose my mind. God, I love strawberries and vanilla. She giggles and I realize I said that out loud.

  Are you fucking kidding me? Could this get any worse?

  Huntley pauses in front of me and smiles. It’s enough to steal the air right out of my lungs.

  “Strawberries and vanilla are my favorite too,” she whispers. She stretches onto the balls of her feet to place a feather-light peck on my cheek. I can feel the heat surface in my cheeks and it’s the first time ever that a girl makes me blush.

  Luckily Huntley’s attention is drawn away from me when Hannah and Finley come darting down the hall. The girls squeal with unadulterated excitement when Huntley picks them up one-by-one. I watch in awe as Hannah and Finley launch into telling Huntley about their day, and what they did at school. The adoration on Huntleys’ face is unmistakable, as is the reverence on Hannah and Finley’s.

  “Ok girls, it’s time for dinner.” Hannah looks up at me, her chocolate brown curls falling in her face and says, “Grayson, can I ride on your shoulders please?” She gives me those puppy dog eyes that Coach is always carrying on about and for the first time I understand. How in the hell do you turn down a four year old with a face like hers?

  Simple. You just don’t.

  I bend my knees until I’m face-to-face with Hannah. “Sure thing darlin’, hop on.”

  She runs around me and hops onto my back, gripping her tiny little hands and fingers around my neck. Huntley is looking at me with a strange expression on her face but before I can say anything, Mrs. Coach calls us outside.

  Huntley takes Finley’s hand and follows me outside to where everyone else is seated. For some reason I feel nervous having her here, so much so that I can feel my hands getting sweaty.

  “Huntley, I’m so glad you could make it,” Mrs. Coach says as she hugs Huntley. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she replies. Coach Morgan pulls her in for a hug and I notice that the look on his face is the same one he gets when he’s looking at his wife and daughters.

  “Uh Mom,” I say, clearing my throat. Why am I so damn nervous to introduce Huntley to my mother? “This is Huntley Morgan.”

  Huntley steps up to my mother and sticks out her hand, “Mrs. Carter, it’s so nice to meet you.”

  Huntley’s surprised when my mother pulls her in for a hug rather than shaking her hand. “Sweetheart, call me May. Mrs. Carter is my mother-in-law.” The comment makes Huntley giggle. I want to bottle that sound and keep it all to myself.

  My mother turns around to introduce her to my father, “This is my husband, Richard.”

  “Mr. Carter it’s nice to meet you too.”

  “Call me Richard,” my father replies happily. I watch in silence as Huntley is received by my parents. I can barely hear their talking above the sound of my rushing heartbeat.

  We all take our seats and my nerves amplify when Huntley takes a seat next to me. Her warmth combined with her sweet scent is intoxicating and I can barely keep it together with her sitting so close. Coach Morgan says grace and we all start eating, quiet at first but then conversation soon flows amongst us.

  My parents start asking Huntley all sorts of questions, starting off with the most obvious. I remain quiet, afraid that I will be incapable of stringing a single coherent sentence together. No need to make myself look like a mumbling idiot.

  “So what is your major Huntley?” my father asks, genuinely interested by the look on his face. My father likes her. That much I can tell. It relaxes and terrifies me at the same time. She wipes her mouth before answering, “I’m starting off with a general Psychology degree but eventually hope to specialize in Child Psychology and Early Childhood Development.”

  That’s the last thing I expected her to say, although I’ve come to the conclusion that this girl is going to surprise me at every turn.

  “That’s very impressive,” my mother adds. “What would you like to do with that?”

  Huntley shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “I’d like to counsel children who have been through traumas. I’d like to open my own practice someday, maybe work with orphanages as well.”

  My parents are impressed and admittedly so I am too. I stare at her until our eyes meet. That familiar connection surges between us before I break it and look away.

  “We’re so proud of her,” Mrs. Coach croons, patting Huntley on the hand the way a mother would. Huntley has never mentioned her parents and I haven’t cared to know about them until now.

  “So Coach,” my father says, directing our conversation elsewhere. “How are we looking this season? Any chance we can get that championship title again this year?”

  Now this is the type of conversation I like. Football.

  “Well, if our boy over here keeps playing like he is, then there’s no way we won’t be in the finals this year.” Coach rubs his huge belly and smiles at his wife.

  “We’ll make it,” I say, opening my mouth for the first time since we sat down. “Have you spoken to the sports department yet Coach?”

  “I have indeed and they’re very interested in your proposal. They said as soon as you graduate then you’ll start off as my assistant coach while we work out the details of your proposal.”

  I can’t hide the grin on my face. Most people assume I want to play pro football after college but I don’t. It’s not the direction I see my life going in and I would rather choose a career that will not only benefit me but other people too.

  “What do you want to do?” Huntley asks next to me. I contemplate being vague but figure my parents will probably tell her anyway. I want her to know that I’m more than just the air-headed jock people think I am. It occurs to me that not only do I want to impress her, but I also want her to see the real me.

  “I want to open a sports rehabilitation center in partnership with the university’s sports department,” I reply. The lump in my throat is the size of a golf ball.

  Her eyebrows rise and she looks at me with those stormy blue eyes. “That’s impressive.”

  “Thank you.” I turn to face my parents and see that they’re all watching us. The only two people oblivious to my seemingly innocent exchange with Huntley are Hannah and Finley.

  “Who wants dessert?” Mrs. Coach pipes up, effectively ending the staring fest. I’m grateful for the subject change and visibly relax back into my seat.

  “Me!” Hannah and Finley shout in unison.

  Mrs. Coach looks at her daughters, “Girls, it’s time for your bath.” Their faces drop and they both sigh. Clearly not getting dessert is the end of their little worlds. I wish I was that age again, when everything was so uncomplicated and easy. And Emilie was still alive. My chest starts to ache at the thought of my twin sister. I miss her. Every day.

  “I’ll take you,” Huntley offers. This makes the girls forget all about missing dessert and they bounce off towards the house. Huntley sways her hips as she walks and I swear she’s doing it because she can feel me watching her.

  I help Mrs. Coach clear the table and take the dirty dishes inside. I’m about to step back out when the sound of laughter and splashing catches my attention. Hannah and Finley are laughing hysterically at something and I can only imagine what the three of them are getting up to up there.

  My mother brushes past me and pats
me on the shoulder. “She’s nice, I like her.” I blink. I was not expecting that. My mother leaves me standing at the bottom of the staircase completely dumbstruck.

  What?

  I look back up at the stairs in time to see Huntley standing on the top step. She shifts her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, twisting her fingers together. She’s nervous. That makes me grin.

  “Um, Hannah and Finley want you to come tuck them in,” she says.

  Without hesitation I bound up the stairs and walk into the girls’ bedroom. I brush my hand over Huntley’s arm and she shivers. Grayson 1 Huntley 0.

  “Good night girls,” I whisper, kissing each of them on the forehead. I turn to see Huntley leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest. She really shouldn’t do that, I don’t need any more reason to stare at her or her breasts.

  I wonder what it would be like if we had babies?

  Whoa, where the fuck did that come from?

  The thought comes to me as naturally as breathing.

  I switch the little nightlight off and close the bedroom door. Huntley stands in front of me, staring at me with those worldly eyes. We both say nothing for what feels like forever but that current hums between our bodies. I take a step closer, noticing how her chest visibly heaves. Inhale, exhale, stutter, inhale, exhale. I touch her arms with my hands and brush her skin lightly with my fingertips. She shivers and her lips part, begging me to kiss them. Oh sweet baby Jesus, I want to kiss them so badly, like I might die if I don’t taste them. Right. Now. I lower my head until our lips brush infinitesimally. The connection shocks both of us. Our breaths become shallow and labored and I decide that just this once it will be ok to give in. Just once will be enough.

  I close the tiny gap and gently place my lips on hers. At first she doesn’t respond but then she steps closer until her body is flush with mine. It’s my turn to shiver. She feels so damn good pressed up against me. My hands grip her small waist and she grasps my shirt in her hands. The feel of her so close to me is too much.

  Our kiss turns hungrier. Our mouths move together like they’ve done this before, only now they’re starving for the other. I trace my tongue along Huntley’s bottom lip and she eagerly takes me in. I explore the depths of her hot mouth, causing our tongues to engage in a wild ritual of song and dance. When I gently nibble her bottom lip she whimpers and that in itself is almost my undoing. I was so so so so wrong.

  Once isn’t enough. It will never be enough.

  “Grayson, are you up there? Your father and I are leaving,” The sound of my mothers’ voice startles us but not enough to break apart completely.

  “Shit,” I whisper, resting my forehead against Huntley’s while we catch our breath.

  “Yeah.”

  That was intense.

  “I have to go,” I do nothing to hide the disappointment in my voice. I don’t want to leave her, not after that kiss. “I’ll call you.” I place the lightest of kisses on her forehead and walk downstairs. I say goodbye to Coach and his wife and then my parents. I hurriedly jump into my truck and head home. The short drive is uncomfortable because I have a raging hard-on and the images of Huntley that flash in my mind aren’t making it easier. Or softer.

  After two cold showers, I lie awake staring at my ceiling. I have no idea what possessed me to kiss her and as much as I hate admitting it was a mistake, I’d do it all over again.

  Goddammit.

  I.AM.SCREWED.

  Chapter 7

  ~ Huntley ~

  I’m walking towards the cafeteria for lunch when I hear my name being called. I’ve been downright dreamy and inattentive today, completely preoccupied with what happened with Grayson last night. That kiss…

  “Huntley! Wait up!”

  I turn around and find Luke Bailey jogging towards me. He’s wearing his signature khaki slacks with another blue polo shirt tucked in. His hair is combed to the side and I’m sure he spent hours trying to get it to look that way. The sight of him makes me cringe.

  “Hi Luke.” I try my hardest to smile politely. This guy gives me the creeps, something about him screaming ‘Sexual Offender’.

  “Hi Huntley. So I wanted to make sure we’re still on for next Saturday?” He doesn’t waste time.

  I could come up with a pathetic excuse and not think twice about cancelling but I promised Demi I would go on one date with this schmuck, despite the bad feeling I get when I’m around him. The fact that he called me hours after meeting me to make arrangements should’ve been the first alarm bell. Clearly he doesn’t know the ‘bro code’, which stipulates a three day waiting period before you call the girl. I’m a girl and even I’m familiar with that little rule.

  “Uh,” I hesitate, “Sure.” I try to hide my displeasure with my own answer knowing full well that this is not what I want.

  Just one date, I remind myself.

  He grins wide and that’s when I notice his perfect, straight white teeth. They’re almost too perfect. His entire appearance, attitude included, exudes ‘pretentiousness’.

  “Great, I’ll pick you up at seven then.”

  I don’t think so. Getting in the same car as this guy is a terrible idea. “Actually, I’ll just meet you at the diner.”

  His face falls momentarily but he recovers quickly. “Ok, that’s fine. I’ll see you then.”

  I nod and he starts walking away. He shakes his head, muttering something to himself. Alarm bell number two.

  The cloud I’ve been walking on all day has dissipated and this feeling of dread and unease settles inside of me. My mother always told me to listen to my intuition because it will never lead me astray but for some reason when it comes to Luke Bailey, I’m ignoring the bright neon lights that are flashing ‘danger’. And all to please Demi. I shake my head and wonder when I started doing things to please others.

  My stomach growls. The sound reminds where I was going before Luke intersected my path. The cafeteria is full, flowing with students who gather here like animals at a watering hole. Everyone is doing something, creating the illusion that the cafeteria is a hive of consequential happenings. But in reality, it’s just a bunch of students eating, talking and messing around.

  I move towards the line and fill my tray with some fruit and a grilled chicken salad. After the conversation with Luke my appetite evaporated, taking with it the craving I had for fried buffalo wings. The table where Demi usually sits with Brody and the football team isn’t visible from the door so I have to snake my way through the crowded room to get to them.

  When their table comes into view, my feet stop dead before what my eyes are seeing registers with my brain. I blink, bringing everything around me into focus.

  Grayson is sitting at the table with a very voluptuous red-head on his lap. Rebecca. She’s straddling him and by the looks of it her tongue is deep sea fishing in his mouth. Demi looks like she wants to kill both Grayson and Rebecca while Brody stares like he can’t believe what’s going on. The bile surges up my throat. My heart slows until it feels like it has stopped beating altogether.

  My ‘fight or flight’ instincts kick in and like a coward, I opt for ‘flight’. I drop my tray on the closest table with a loud crack. Grayson pulls away from Rebecca and has the audacity to look surprised when his green eyes fall on me. Not too long ago it was my lips he was devouring. I want to gag. And then rinse my mouth out with pesticide.

  I turn and walk out, ignoring his pleas coming from behind me. How could I have been so stupid? Of course our kiss meant nothing. He sampled the goods and now he’s moving on. That’s the kind of game he plays. I can’t pretend that I didn’t see it coming but it brings back some feelings I’d rather not deal with again. Thanks but no thanks.

  “Huntley!”

  I walk a little faster and try ignoring whoever is calling me. A strong hand grips my arm and pulls me to a stop. I swallow once, willing the unwelcome tears to stay away. Why I have the urge to cry confuses me, it’s not like Grayson and I
are a couple or that he promised me anything after he kissed me. Except to call me. He said he would call me. I guess that’s not happening now.

  “Huntley, it’s not what you think.”

  I look up and find Brody’s concerned eyes staring back at me. My shoulders slump in relief. It’s not Grayson.

  “And what do I think?” I ask him, knowing how bad it must’ve looked when I stormed out like an irreverent teenager.

  “He wasn’t kissing her.”

  I snort. “Are you kidding me right now Brody? Do I have ‘idiot’ tattooed in bold letters on my forehead?”

  “No, that’s not what I mean.” He lets go of my arm and rubs the back of his neck. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Brody nervous.

  “Brody, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t owe me anything.” I don’t want to be right but I know I am. Why I thought our kiss meant something is beyond me. Stupid girl emotions. We get attached to anything with a heartbeat.

  “Look, you just walked in at the wrong time alright! Rebecca caught him off-guard and just came out of nowhere. Before any of us knew what was going on she had her tongue down this throat. I swear that’s what happened.”

  I shake my head muttering “Whatever.” I make a move to walk away but Brody stops me. “It meant something to him,” he whispers. For a second I’m confused, thinking that he’s talking about what I walked in on a few minutes ago between Rebecca and Grayson.

  I stare at him and he explains, “He told me about last night,” he pauses, “It meant something to him.”

  His words sink in. He’s talking about mine and Graysons’ kiss.

  “He told you?”

  “He’s my best friend, he tells me everything.”

  “It doesn’t matter now Brody.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I know him better than anyone and I’m telling you it meant something to him.”

  Despite what Brody is telling me, I don’t want to get caught up with these feelings. He could be right, maybe it did mean something to Grayson, but I can’t wait for him to figure it out for himself. I have to take care of my heart and Grayson Carter is no good for me.