Since the day Jonas and I met, there has always been an easy way about us. Jonas is a great guy. Genuine and thoughtful and kindhearted. He knows how to have fun and make people laugh. And there is no denying I like him. But nothing more could ever happen between us. It wouldn’t be fair to him if I couldn’t be all in. That and his former relationship statuses.
“Yeah,” I mumble. “Gavin drove me home in my car.”
He nods, slow and steady, as his eyes stay fixed on his plate. Although his head is down, I notice the twitches in his expression. The flickers of emotion he doesn’t want on display. And it’s a stab to the heart that he doesn’t want me to know what he feels or thinks.
Please look at me. Don’t shut me out. That is what I want to say to him, but I stop myself. I don’t want to send him mixed messages. Say words that mean one thing but could be interpreted in some misconstrued way.
Jonas and I have been friends for years now. I don’t have many male friends or acquaintances—not on purpose—and I can’t imagine having a better guy friend than him. Things with Jonas… nothing is complicated or artificial. What you see is what you get. And that is not a bad thing. I never have to question our friendship or who he is or what his motives are.
He is sweet and funny and would go out of his way to help a stranger. Having him in my company has never been weird. And although I know things have shifted a little between us, he would do anything for me. As I would for him. Like a true friend.
“Can I ask you something?” Jonas asks. Erin and Shelly sit across from us, chatting separately.
“You know you can,” I tell him. Because it’s true. I don’t hide who I am from people I trust.
“What’s going on with you and Gavin?” His face serious. More serious than I have seen it over the years.
“Not sure what you mean. He’s the model I’m shooting right now.”
In actuality, I know exactly what he means. Where his question is directed. He wants to know the history between us, and how that affects things now. I have no intention of lying to Jonas, but I don’t want to spew word vomit and overshare information he doesn’t want to hear. There is no need to dredge up things better left behind.
He cocks his head and studies my face a moment. “You know that’s not what I mean. There’s something else going on between the two of you. Am I right?”
I have no clue. God, I wish I knew the answer. The seesaw of emotions makes me nauseous. “Maybe. But I don’t know,” I say with a shrug.
His bluish-hazel eyes bore into mine as he tries to read the words left unsaid. Under the table, his knee brushes against my leg and I close my eyes as the contact sends a rush of jitters through my chest. There is no use in denying my attraction to Jonas. After all, he is easy on the eyes and looks at me as if no other woman walks the earth.
What woman doesn’t want a man like that? Someone who only sees her.
The music fades into the background as his knee stays pressed against me. My eyes remain closed and my food forgotten. His weight shifts against me, his knee sliding higher up the outside of my thigh as I feel him lean into me. My breathing picks up as his rough stubble grazes against my cheek. What is he doing? I might just have a heart attack in the middle of the bar.
His breath is hot on my ear and I stop breathing altogether. “I hope not,” he whispers. “Because that wouldn’t bode well for me.” And then he kisses me below the ear, trailing two more below it before pulling away.
Damnit. I am so royally fucked.
My heart hammers against my rib cage while my lungs try to remember how to work. His knee slides back to where it was moments earlier, but still touches me. The three spots where his lips touched my skin singe and sting, as if branding me with his essence.
The idea of opening my eyes scares the hell out of me. I’m scared of what I will see and feel and possibly realize. The overwhelming sensation has crept into my veins many times, but I purposely shove it down. Emotions and thoughts that tell me it is okay to like Jonas more than a friend. That it’s okay to want someone other than the boy—now man—who holds my heart prisoner.
God, what do Shelly and Erin think of me right now? As I sit on this stool and fight the urge to kiss a man I have thought about kissing countless times, but stopped myself because my heart steps up to the plate.
I take a deep breath and harness every ounce of bravery inside me as I open my eyes. Jonas’s link to mine immediately. Something different resides within them, though. Fire. Passion. Desires he has kept smoldering for years. Has all this come to life because Gavin is here? Is he finally acting on how he feels for me because he fears his chances are fading?
Or has jealousy brought them to the forefront? I don’t want jealousy to be the reason he chooses to make a move. Jealousy isn’t the right reason to tell someone you care for them.
Looking across the table, I realize Erin and Shelly are absent. “Where are…” I trail off.
“They went to the bathroom before stepping outside to make a call,” he informs me.
“Together?” I ask, the absurdity of it layering my tone.
“I guess so. They got up at the same time and went the same way.” His eyes never leave me. “Does that bother you? That they left us alone.”
My eyes dart between his and I suddenly see him a little different than I did ten minutes ago. “No. Don’t be silly. Of course it doesn’t bother me.” I snatch an onion ring to occupy my mouth before I ramble any further.
“Good.” His arm inches closer to me and his warm hand rests atop my bopping knee. “Because I’d hate to think you’re nervous to be around me now.”
It is not that I’m nervous per se to be around Jonas. More like I don’t want history repeating itself. The last guy I loved—who had also been my best friend beforehand—moved across the country. Granted, it wasn’t his choice to do so, but he made zero effort to return. I put in all the effort and he just didn’t. The only reason Gavin is here now is because his work brought him here. Not me.
If this shoot hadn’t come up, would he have returned?
I have asked myself this question too many times this week. Have questioned if he ever had intentions of returning. Even if I ask Gavin, would he tell me the truth? Or only what I want to hear? Would he sugarcoat the reason it took him more than a decade to come back here? To me. If he is doing so well in his career, if he still loves me the way he claims, why didn’t he return sooner? This whole situation frustrates me on so many levels. I don’t know which way is up anymore.
God, it feels as if I’m in the middle of an epic battle. The battle for my affection. And somehow, I became the prize. Against my own volition. What if I want things to stay how they are? What if I don’t want a relationship—other than friendship—with either one of them? Do I get a say in the matter? Of all the people in this situation, I should get the biggest say in the outcome. My heart is the one on the line, after all.
“I’m not nervous to be around you,” I say after a long stretch of silence. “More worried, I guess.”
“Worried?” He is quick to ask.
“Yes. I don’t want things to change. And whether intentional or not, relationships change the dynamic between people and friendships. This” —I point between the two of us— “is perfect right now. What if us being more than what we are changes that? I can’t lose you as a friend, Jonas. It would crush me.”
Jonas’s fingers trace small circles above my knee, the gentle motion is soothing and worrisome. I have always enjoyed Jonas’s company. Always smiled and laughed and had a good time when we were together. A time here and there, I thought maybe he wanted more than friendship, but he never made a move or asked me on a date. So I brushed it off and assumed I read him wrong.
Ninety-nine percent of our outings include Shelly and/or Erin. It isn’t me not wanting to spend individual time with him. More like the thought never occurred to me for us to hang out alone. Jonas is my friend, and I usually do friend stuff in group settings. Things hav
e always been that way. And only occasionally veer off.
“Believe me, I know exactly where you’re coming from. That’s the reason I’ve never said anything. Never put myself out there to you. Because I’d be broken without you,” he confesses then pauses, taking a breath before locking eyes with me. “But now… it seems like if I wait to tell you how I feel, I’ll miss the opportunity. Or I could lose you. He’s had your heart once before. If he’s lucky enough to have it again, I…”
He doesn’t finish his thought as he drops his chin, but I know what he would have said. I wouldn’t stand a chance. Is he right? If Gavin somehow won my heart again, would I cave and be with him? Part of me instantly says yes—the part that has longed for him for years. Another part of me says no—that being the logical, rational side. The side that reminds me of the painful days, the loneliness and the heartache from before. All the tears and cold nights and nightmares.
I lay my hand over Jonas’s and his eyes jerk up to meet mine. “I know,” I tell him. “But no matter what, you’ll always be a part of me.”
Seconds later, Shelly and Erin plop back on their stools and look over at the woman singing karaoke. My thoughts run on high speed, and I have no clue what song is playing, nor do I care. All I know is, below the wooden grain of this tall tabletop, Jonas hasn’t removed his hand, and neither have I.
Chapter Twenty
Gavin
Fifteen years ago
One more hour and Thanksgiving break starts. Nine glorious days of not getting up before the sun. Of sleeping in and zero required reading or assignments. But those aren’t the best parts of time off school. Not by a long shot.
What I’m really over the moon about is having uninterrupted time with Cora.
Sure, I see her throughout the week at school. And sporadically we see each other on the weekend to “study.” But we are never really alone. When we are “studying,” it is in her living room or mine, our parents not far away. One of us on the couch, the other between their legs on the floor.
On occasion, I catch myself playing with a strand of her hair while she sits in front of me, arms warm against the inside of my calves. Or I lean into her legs when I’m cross-legged on the floor. She never brushes me off or acts as if the gesture makes her uncomfortable. And every once in a while, the light brushing of her fingertips draws on the skin of my neck. When she does this, I have to remember how to breathe. How to think.
We have preplanned a couple days of Thanksgiving break. Meeting with friends, hanging out and playing Putt-Putt or bowling. But I hope she will want to spend more time together, just the pair of us. Within a week of school starting, she easily slipped into friend—if not best friend—territory. A week after that, I craved to see her as much as possible and had an inkling she would always be more. At least to me. And I hope she reciprocates.
The bell rings and cheers can be heard throughout the school. Cheers of a week of freedom and sleep and no schedule. Cheers to less supervision and good times with friends. Closing my textbook, I stuff it and my notebook into my backpack. I slide out of my seat with a smile plastered on my face and head out the door. This week will be perfect.
Through the dark lenses on my sunglasses, I stare out at the water and watch Cora as she splashes Shelly in the shallows. Although it is late November, the sun beats down mild temperatures ranging from the low eighties to the high seventies in this part of Florida. The Gulf is still warm, but will cool in the next couple of weeks.
Micah, Shelly’s older brother and my best friend for the last few years, sits next to me and doesn’t hide the fact he ogles women ten-plus years his senior. But I’m cool with him being distracted. It disguises the fact I can’t seem to remove my eyes from Cora’s creamy white skin. The pallor similar to the snow I saw last winter when my parents took us on a road trip during winter break.
Hair black as coal, skin white as cotton, lips red as fresh cherries. Her smile bright as the sun on a summer day and her laugh a sound that sings to my heartstrings the moment I hear it.
Everything about her stunning. Spellbinding. Hypnotizing.
It’s not until Micah backhands my bicep that I realize he has been talking to me and I have no clue what he said. “Sorry, man. What?” And I will my eyes to leave Cora to look over at Micah.
“I said we picked the perfect day to come out here. Lots of oil-slicked beauties out today,” he states, brows waggling. Today is one of those days when Micah behaves like the typical horny teenage boy. Both annoying and not. But he is my best friend and I tolerate his ways.
There is only one person I have an interest in looking at, but for the sake of not being razzed, I nod and add, “Definitely a perfect day.” I leave my response generic, hoping he won’t press further.
But Micah isn’t the type of guy to leave things unsaid. I have only known him a short time, but it hasn’t taken long to learn how outgoing he is. “Anyone catching your eye? You’ve been a little zoned out.”
Only one person has caught my eye, but I have no intention of divulging this tidbit. Not now. “No one in particular. You?”
“There’s a trio of blondes at three o’clock I’ve been watching for a few. Think I might go say hello. You want to go with?”
“Nah. Think I’ll cool off in the water for a bit.”
I would rather be inches away from the magnetic girl sporting a black two-piece with curves in all the right places.
Micah rises from the blanket, brushes sand off his legs and board shorts, and straightens his spine. I’m half tempted to tell him it doesn’t matter if you have sand on you, dipshit, you’re at the beach. We are surrounded by sand. But I opt to refrain from jabbing him.
In a few quick strides, he walks away from me and makes a beeline for the females who I hope will occupy his time a while. After I’m certain he is not turning back, I scoot to the edge of the blanket and stare out at the water a moment. Cora and Shelly tread water just deep enough to reach the edge of their shoulders. They talk about something, Shelly’s hand animating above the water every five seconds. Cora watches her studiously behind the dark tint of her sunglasses and smiles here and there.
Deep breath in, I stand from our reserved spot on the beach and trek fifty feet toward the water’s edge. The small waves break over my shins as I shuffle into the water. Once I stand waist deep in the salty surf, I sink in the water, and wet my hair before swimming to Cora and Shelly.
As I approach them, I hear them talking about seeing a movie later. Intrigued, I wonder if I will be invited to said movie. Who cares what plays on the screen, I would love to just sit beside Cora for two hours in the dim-lit theater. Would I even be able to focus on the movie? Probably not.
“Hey,” Cora says, breathless. I tread water on her right until I realize I can reach the sand below, planting my feet but keeping my body the same height as the two of them. “Tired of tanning yourself.” A teasing smile lights her face.
“Ha-ha. Micah walked off to hit on some chicks and I was getting toasty on the blanket. Thought I’d see what you two were up to.”
“We were just talking about seeing a movie later,” Shelly chimes in. “Not sure what’s playing, but we could pick whatever. Usually, there’s always something good at the theater around the holidays.”
“I’m in, if that’s okay with you guys,” I tell them both.
“Cool,” Shelly pants, her body winded from treading water so long. “I’m gonna head back to the blanket, tan for a little, and see if anyone else wants to join us.”
Before either of us says another word, Shelly swims to shore and leaves me alone with Cora. Exactly what I was hoping for.
In the anonymity of the water, my hands itch to reach forward and grab hold of her waist. I stare at her dark lenses through mine, neither of us uttering a word. We have never needed to fill time with meaningless conversation. By some unknown universal connection, we can read each other without ever speaking a word.
As if she hears my thoughts, as if she kno
ws the urge building inside me, she swims closer and stops inches from my frame. The water surrounding me ebbs and flows with her arm and leg movements as she continues to tread. I stop fighting my instinct. Stop resisting what is in front of me.
The moment my hands grasp the curves of her waist, her arms and legs still. To anyone looking from the shore, nothing has changed except for her lack of distance. Our bodies hidden in the wide open. It is exhilarating. Not that I care if anyone sees us together. If anything, it would be heaven to tell the world my feelings for Cora. Feelings that have been growing stronger by the minute.
One hand holds her steady while the other begins to trace lines along the side of her torso. Up and down. Bikini top to bikini bottom. Her lips part just enough to see past the bold red rouge.
Under the water, her chest expands and contracts under my touch. She doesn’t stop me, but I have to know if she is okay with me touching her like this. As much as it would devastate me to hear her say no, I would never press her for something she had no desire to pursue. I don’t want to ruin what we have.
Leaning forward, my face an inch or two from hers, I whisper, “Is this okay?”
Her breath hitches, and I wonder if her eyes are closed behind her heavy-tinted lenses. She nods, her voice breathy when she speaks. “Yes.”
Her fingertips brush over my chest, startling me. “Sorry,” I mutter. “Just unexpected.”
She doesn’t say anything in response, her fingers exploring my chest as we bob in the water. Minutes pass, the sounds of other beachgoers fade away. All that exists is her and me and our bodies growing closer and closer as we explore each other’s skin.
My eyes drop from her frames, focusing on her lips and wondering what it would be like to kiss her. I have dreamed of kissing a few girls before, but that is all. Just dreams. But I think if I kiss Cora, I will never want to kiss another person in my life. My eyes pop back up to hers, wishing I could see her bold green irises. See what she is thinking. What she is feeling. If they hold the same questions or possibility mine do.
Through the Lens (Click Duet #1) (Bay Area Duet Series) Page 12