My favorite place in Wilde’s End? My immediate thought is home. My mine. Where everything feels right, and I don’t have to think about the outside world or force myself to act a certain way.
But I’m not taking Kennedy there.
Part of the reason is because it feels private, but the other part couldn’t handle it if he saw my home and didn’t like it. Kennedy’s opinion means more to me than it should, and since my home is the only place where I’ve ever felt safe, I can’t let anything disrupt that.
We finish cleaning the car, and even after polishing the tires, I still haven’t come to a decision. There’re only so many times I can check the window wipers are in good condition.
“So what are we doing?” Kennedy asks, dropping his rag back into the bucket with a splat. He’s filthy from a day’s work, hair a wild mess, but he’s smiling because he’s always smiling.
Without an answer for him, I want to turn and walk away, but that would mean not spending time with him, and after three days, I need this.
His presence pulls at me in a way no one else’s does.
There are so many places in Wilde’s End we could go; miles and miles of wilderness hide so many amazing things. The trails through the trees, the swimming hole, the jagged rocky outcrop by Hobby Straight that I like to watch the sunset from sometimes. Natural beauty is everywhere out here, but I want to hold Kennedy’s interest in the same way Rooney did, and unless I’m going to suddenly fuck off my anxiety and start talking, I need something else.
Something fun.
The tire swing down on a quiet stretch of river flitters through my memories, and excitement tickles me at the thought of showing it to him. It’s a hot day, and at least it should keep us entertained for a while.
I tap my temple and give his sleeve a tug. Whether he gets that I’ve had an idea or not, I have no clue, but he waves his hand ahead.
“Lead the way. After following you directly toward Lynx, I think I’ve proved that I’ll follow you anywhere.”
I muffle my laugh as I dig my elbow into his ribs, and Kennedy playfully grabs both my shoulders to shake me. We leave the road and walk past the old shops as we jostle and shove each other, and I’m almost able to get lost in the moment of being with a friend.
“Where are you taking me this time, huh? A cliff face to push me off? A sinkhole where no one will ever find my body.” His fingers squirm against my stomach, and a giggle slips out as I slap his hand away. “You’re so feisty. You’re going to kill me with your bare hands, aren’t you?”
If he doesn’t stop tickling me, I might. I hate being tickled, but for him to do it, he has to get close enough, touch me, and I can’t say I hate being touched. Still, I glare at him to show how stupid I think that comment is. He’s completely unaffected.
Just like he said though, he doesn’t question following me once. I lead him through narrow paths with sheer drops on one side, then through stretches of forest where there is no path, only knee-high, scratchy grass and speckled patches of sun that have to fight past the thick tree coverage.
We’re on a narrow, single-person track, and Kennedy’s close behind me, his whistle filling in the still day and bringing it alive.
I wish I knew how to be so perfectly content in every moment, but that will never be me.
We reach the stretch of river that I found by accident and like to come to when it’s hot as hell. Like today. There’s a large, flat rock overhanging the water that heats up in the sun and is perfect for lying on while I dry off. The huge oak on the other side has a tire swing that I’ve never used, and we’re sheltered in a small part of the river that dips inward, creating a secluded natural cove.
“This is pretty,” Kennedy says, stepping past me. “Wish I’d brought my swim shorts.”
Swim shorts. Fuck.
It isn’t something I thought of because I normally come here alone, so getting naked isn’t an issue. Getting naked in front of Kennedy? I might die. I run my tongue piercing behind my teeth, trying to convince myself that this is nothing. We’re friends. He won’t glance at me twice. It’s not like I have to get all the way naked either, but even contemplating it feels like a lot.
With nerves threatening to make me feel sick, I strip off my T-shirt and reach for my jeans. The denim is too hot anyway, but I like being covered. I like hiding in my clothes, and the way myheart is heavily thumping only reminds me of how exposed I’m about to be.
But even with how tense I am … I don’twantto hide from him.
When I’m down to my briefs, I pull my gaze away from the water and over to him, just in time to see his eyes drop to my chest and slowly run downward. My skin prickles under his attention.
As soon as he notices me watching, his eyes snap back to mine, and he grins. “Good idea.”
Then Kennedy strips off before I’m ready for it.
Lots and lots of golden skin, big shoulders, a soft belly, and strong legs. His briefs are tight, and I refuse to look at that area, or my face might actually catch fire.
A loud exhale leaves him. “I didn’t realize how hot today was.”
He means the weather, obviously. There’s no way his body is overheating the way mine is. I need a distraction, and fast, because if I stand here too much longer, my cock will definitely give me away.
