Old palms sway lazily in the coastal breeze like lovers dancing to a solemn hymn. Late afternoon rays of sunlight weave in and out of the fronds, creating shadows and lines across the white siding of a two-story home.
Win’s house.
“Ask him to join us on Friday,” Andrea murmurs, spinning on her heel and marching away.
There’s a full-blown tornado of conflicting thoughts wreaking havoc in my skull as I ascend the front steps, clinging to the painted wooden railing.
This shouldn’t be difficult.You’re terrified.It’s a simple invite.He doesn’t feel the same.It's no big deal.Unless…
Tentatively, I knock, digging the toe of my shoe into the edge of the navy blue welcome mat. The cacophony in my head rises in volume. I’ve only visited a handful of times when his mom and stepdad are out and have no idea what to expect. Is he going to be pissed I've shown up unannounced?
The thought-nado reaches breakneck speeds as the front door swings in to reveal a thin woman with black hair and fair skin.At first glance, she appears poised and youthful, but the mirage shifts. Hints of purple peek through the concealer under her eyes; fine worry lines burrow between her brows. There’s an aura of anxious energy humming around her like a halo.
“Um, hi, I'm Remy… is Win home?” I ask like a dumbass. (Of course he is. He leaves last period study hall thirty minutes early every Thursday for violin.)
Her concern instantly vanishes, replaced by a beaming smile.
“Oh, Remy, it's so lovely to finally meet you!” She gushes, stepping aside. “Come in! I’m Marceline, Winnie’s mom, but call me Marcy. He’s upstairs playing a game, I think.”
Winnie?
Why is that nickname so fucking adorable?
Struck by the drastic change in her demeanor, I follow in a daze as she leads me through a tastefully decorated foyer. There's so much white and beige, I'm scared breathing will dirty it. On one wall, seashells in frames flank a sepia photo of Win with V tucked under his chin, eyes closed and thick lashes splayed on his cheeks.
Not even Alyssa Mendes— voted the prettiest girl at Kingsbury— comes close to his otherworldly beauty.
“He’ll be thrilled you stopped by. He seemed a bit uptight after violin, but you always cheer him up,” she says as she guides me to the stairs. “Let me know if you boys need anything. I’ll be in the study.”
“Thank you.”
She gives me a wistful smile before disappearing down the hall. I grasp the banister, polished wood gliding under my sweaty palm as I take the steps at a measured pace despite the urge to move quicker. The menu music for one of Win’s favorite video games lures me to the landing, a grin overtaking my face at theidea of him unleashing his frustrations on grotesque animated monsters.
My hand wraps around the doorknob—
It doesn’t budge.
The music slows to a tinkling melody. I raise my fist to knock when a noise stops me.
It’s soft. Muffled. Like a sigh.
Panting.
Something stirs in my groin.
I’m frozen. I’m burning.
A groan.
An ache forms in my balls.
I should leave.
A sharp inhale.
Don't get hard, don't get hard.
A low, breathy moan.
