He opened his eyes, ready to go inside, and there was Darla standing beside the pool. He yelped—he did. And he nearly fell off the damn pizza.
She stood with her arms crossed, and her lips moving, but no words came out. Like she was rehearsing.
Fuck, she was cute when she was figuring out what to say.
He pulled his bottom lip under his teeth because he didn’t need the sun when he had Darla.
The first thing out of his mouth probably should’ve been an apology for something. He wasn’t sure what exactly, but call it intuition.
But that’s not what he did. Instead, he lifted his palms behind his head, threading his fingers together like he didn’t have a care in the world before he said, "You figure out what to say to me yet?"
Darla stopped talking to herself and her expression went slack. "Are you for real?"
"Totally," he assured.
"Do you even understand what’s happening out there in the world?" She gestured to the world at large.
She was pretty. Like an angel, with the way the sun glowed behind her.
"Hans came over and gave me the rundown. We tried to reach out, but couldn’t get to you," he said.
That was the truth, but it wasn’tentirelythe truth. Hans had tried to reach out. Mach didn’t. He was too chicken-shit-scared that if he made the effort, Darla would shut him down. Crushing what was left of his ego.
"Everything’s a mess," she said, the words wobbly. Her expression crumbled in a way that had him sliding off of the pizza slice into the water so he could sidestroke over to her and figure out how to take that wobble out of her words.
He made it off the pizza, but he didn’t get to swim before she heaved a breath and clearly switched some kind of button when she announced, "If you hadn’t hit on me, then none of this would’ve happened."
He drew his eyebrows together. "There are only a few things I refuse to regret and one of them is shooting my shot."
Even on the few occasions when it fails.
"You didn’t even want to be with me. I was just in front of you." She swallowed hard, as though worried he would confirm this for her.
"You’re kidding me right now?" he asked. "She’s gotta be fucking kidding me," he said to the sky. "I asked you to relax a little and let yourself have fun. I did it because…" Because he could see who she was under all of that sass and uncertainty. "Because I wanted to spend time with you."
Instead of swimming her way, he stayed put for two very reasonable reasons.
One, he asked her to spend the evening with him so he could show her how fun it could be to relax, not because he was being a dick. And he took it personally that she didn’t get that. Resented that she figured he’d chase any tail as long as it was in front of him.
And the number two reason he would not swim to her was because, apparently, when she talked to him in that tone and got him all worked up with the waving of her finger like he was in trouble, well, he got hard.
Something unacceptable when the world was being a jerk, and he was in wet swimming trunks.
"Are you going to get out so we can talk?" she asked, eyes wide, gesturing to the side of the pool.
He pushed his sunglasses on the top of his head with one finger and willed himself to get a handle on the situation in his shorts.
"Well?" she asked.
"No." He preferred to keep his embarrassment below the surface,thanksverymuch.
"So, what, we’re just going to talk like this?" she asked.
He lifted a shoulder. "It’s working so far."
"Ugh. You are so frustrating." She pushed her palms into her hair.
He didn’t want to be frustrating. He also didn’t want to embarrass himself. So they were at a stalemate.
