“Oh, Gee. Don’t cry. It’s natural you’d be excited. It’s your first solo project.”
“Yeah. It’s not just that, though. It’s because it’s Josh. I keep seeing myself … with him. You know?” I ferret around in my bag for tissue to sniffle into.
“Yeah, I know. And I know I told you to give him time for his brain to catch up with his dick, but maybe it’s time to think about taking a bit of a step back. Protect yourself.”
“I don’t know if I can, Jess. There’s such a mismatch between his words and his actions.” Of course, I told Jessie we slept together. And what happened after. No surprise, she was unimpressed. I know she’s worried for me. I’m starting to be worried for me.
“You’re right. There is. But he’s told you in no uncertain terms there’s no hope of a romantic relationship. I think you need to start taking him at his word.”
She’s right. But I don’t feel ready to wave the white flag quite yet.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Josh
Greerissoexcitedabout the landscaping concepts she and Matt came up with that I can’t resist her insistence I come to dinner on Sunday night, even though I’m still trying my hardest to limit contact. It’s the only way I can think of to stay sane. Maybe what they used to say about too much jerking off is true—it does send you insane.
I’ve spent the day with Ty, helping him with some English homework, and dropped him back at school before I head over to the Carters’ place. Ty gave me grief over having to work with Matt, but there was no real heat in it. Despite his complaining, I think he’s secretly happy someone is giving a crap about what happens to him.
I can hear splashing and laughing as I make my way down the side path, a welcome sound after the early heat we’ve had this week. The pool comes into view, and the air gets even hotter when Greer rises from the water and stands poised on the sandstone edging, like something out of a 007 movie. Water cascades from her hair, rivulets flowing down her body. The tiny swatch of fabric she’s wearing can hardly be called a bikini and gives me a real-time replay of what I was lucky enough to experience once and can never have again.
Any man with a pulse would want to lick every drop of water from her skin. I bite down hard on my bottom lip and try to concentrate on keeping the blood, which is now on a fast simmer, from draining straight out of my head and into the board shorts I wore, knowing we’d probably be swimming.
“Hi Josh,” she calls as she saunters towards me. “Are you up for a swim?”
Cursing her choice of words—up is not a word I want to hear right now—I clear my throat. “Sure, why not?”
Stripping off my shirt, I slide out of my thongs and dive into the pool as quickly as possible, hoping nobody has noticed the situation brewing in my board shorts.
“Hey, how about a game of Marco Polo, for old time’s sake?” Will suggests. We played it all the time when we were in high school, generally as an excuse to feel up whatever girls happened to be around.
“Aren’t we a bit old for that now?” Chasing Greer round the pool seems like a very bad idea.
“Scared you’ll get your arse handed to you, old man?” asks Ethan, who has made it to family dinner this week, and is floating around the shallows with Jess, who gives me the stink eye. Great. She knows. Which doesn’t surprise me. She and Greer are tight.
I can’t let Ethan’s challenge go, I’m afraid, so I make a bad decision. “Bring it, kid.” Ethan is only a couple of years younger than me and, more often than not, acts older, but I’ve always teased him about being a kid.
“You’re it Greer,” calls Will, bombing into the centre of the pool in preparation for battle.
It’s a frantic round. Greer is like a mermaid underwater, and it’s only strength that saves Will, Ethan and me more than once. Finally, Ethan gets caught, and the game turns rough as he uses strength and speed to try and exhaust us. Nothing can save me when Greer’s legs brush my thighs. I’m completely distracted, and Ethan goes in for the kill.
“Marco …” I call and close my eyes, listening intently to the sounds of water lapping.
“Polo,” come the laughing replies from around the pool. It seems like I’m lunging after them for ages as they duck and dive. Finally, I sense movement in the water to my left. With a quick dive, I clamp my hands around a slender thigh.
Even before I open my eyes, I know it’s Greer twisting in my grasp. I won’t forget the feel of her skin in a hurry. By which I mean ever. Her red hair is floating about her face and shoulders, huge silver bubbles rising from her mouth, her blues eyes laughing at me, even underwater.
Why do I forget to breathe every time I look at her? I really have to get this raging case of lust—and whatever else this is—under control. Fast.
Releasing her leg as if she stung me, I kick to the surface. The way my blood is bubbling, I’m surprised there isn’t steam rising off the water.
“That’s it for me, I think.” I swim to the side and boost myself out.
Greer floats to the surface, and I can feel her eyes on me as I towel off.
“Chicken,” she calls quietly. And as our eyes meet across the water, I know she’s not referring to the game.
“Yeah, spoilsport,” mutters Will, hoisting himself onto a raft and closing his eyes.
