Page 72 of Addicted

Stone leaned back against the counter, chewing slow. “Bet,” he said. “After you get back.”

Ish smirked. “Don’t back out.”

Stone gave him a look. “I ain’t backing out of shit.”

I stood there watching the exchange, thrown off by how normal it felt.

After Ish left for school, the house got quiet again. But not the heavy, suffocating kind of quiet I was used to when I was there by myself.

When we were done eating breakfast, Stone and I ended up outside by the pool. I dipped my foot in first, testing the temperature.

“It’s warm,” I said.

“Get in,” Stone said, already pulling his shirt off.

I slipped out of my clothes, walking down the steps into the water. The second I got fully in, I sighed.

“This is nice.”

I barely had time to get comfortable before Stone’s big ass jumped in next to me, sending water everywhere.

“Stone!” I snapped, wiping my face.

He smirked. Then before I could react, he grabbed me and dunked me under the water.

“You are so childish!” I said when I came up, laughing despite myself.

“You still smiling though,” he said.

He wasn’t wrong.

“Whatever, nigga,” I shot back.

“Come here,” Stone said, reaching for me.

I moved back before he could get to me. His dark eyes locked onto mine, tracking my movement.

“Come here, Indigo,” he repeated, his tone commanding.

Rolling my eyes, I went to him, and he pulled me into his strong arms. He stared into my eyes, pushing my wet curls behind my ears.

“You be smiling a lot more lately,” he murmured, his thumb brushing my cheek.

“I guess you’ve been giving me reasons to,” I replied, my voice softer than usual.

Then he kissed me. It was gentle and sweet, unlike our usual heated kisses.

We stayed out there for longer than I thought we would, just swimming around, laughing, talking about random shit.

Later, Brady pulled together lunch for us, and we ate out by the pool. There was no tension between us. No arguments. Just good food and easy conversation. Eventually, the sun got too hot, so we headed inside and went to the theater room. Stone sat back in one of the recliners and handed me the remote.

“Pick something,” he said.

“You trusting me?” I asked.

“I probably shouldn’t. You be watching some straight bullshit.”

“You just don’t have good taste.”