look together carefully in the morning, and throughout the day I checked the neatness of my clothes and hair. Other than that, I never gave much thought to my body.
Brody reminded me that I was made of bones and skin and muscle. He was connecting my body back to my brain in a way I’d never experienced. I flattened my hand against the rough stucco wall. My palm turned sweaty. His fingertips felt so good stroking me in—let’s face it—a first-date, innocent way.
“Is everything okay, Harper? Now you seem tense again.” As Brody said this, he massaged my shoulder with a pressure so strong that it fell just short of hurting. It was intense enough, and good enough, that I wished he would do that to me everywhere.
But after a few strokes of his hand, his fingers followed the strap of my bikini, trailing fire, down to cup my breast. He wasn’t technically touching me anymore since my bathing suit top separated his skin from mine. But I could feel the pressure of his hand, and the heat of it. Never mind what I’d thought about the innocence of his touch. Electricity arced from his body to mine.
If he felt the same way I did as he slid his thumb back and forth across my breast, he didn’t let on. In the darkness of the pavilion, I couldn’t see the green of his eyes, but the shadows underneath were deep. He looked older than me, and serious.
I giggled.
“What’s so funny?” he whispered.
“Um, where do I start? Most guys, if they were touching a girl’s collarbone and noticed she was acting tense, would take their hands off her before asking after her health, rather than touching her breast.” The last word came out as a sigh. I was pretty proud that I’d produced a joke under the circumstances, but inwardly I cringed as I heard myself. I sounded like I wanted him to stop touching me. I didn’t.
Incredibly, he was unfazed. “Most guys?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “You do this enough to have a test group?”
“It’s all in the name of science,” I said faintly.
“No means no,” he said. “They lecture us about this endlessly in PE. Do you want me to stop?”
I shook my head.
“Me neither.” He moved toward me. He was about to kiss me.
The nearer he came, the more scrambled my brain got. His lips were so close to my ear that his breath feathered across my cheek.
Suddenly he’d backed away from me. No! I wanted him to kiss me. Hadn’t I made that clear?
He nodded toward the nearest arched doorway to the beach. Halfway understanding his message, I jerked my camera bag up by the strap just as Kennedy burst in.
“Harper!” Glancing from me to my camera bag and back to me, he let me hear all the accusation in his voice. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
I smiled. “Sorry. I was right here.”
His angry eyes cut to Brody. A breeze from outside caught his wet ponytail and flopped it forward over his shoulder.
Brody didn’t do much. He gave Kennedy a subtle look down and back up. I wasn’t sure, but I thought this meant, Come at me, bro, because I can take you.
Amazingly, I might have been right. Kennedy seemed to get the same message. He didn’t engage with Brody. He turned back to me and demanded, “What are you doing?”
I held up my camera bag. “The light’s bad, but we were attempting to get our yearbook Superlatives picture out of the way.”
“Because her deadline is coming up,” Brody chimed in. He said this without a trace of sarcasm. Brody didn’t really do sarcasm. But I heard the private joke in his words: Kennedyhad been on me to meet this deadline. In a roundabout way, he was the one who’d convinced us to stand in a shadowy beach pavilion alone together. So there .
Kennedy’s burst of anger seemed to have drained away. We’d managed to talk him down, just as I had in journalism class.
Except this time, he had reason to be jealous. Brody was toying with me.
Kennedy told me quietly, “Come on back.”
“I will.”
He paused a moment
Brody reminded me that I was made of bones and skin and muscle. He was connecting my body back to my brain in a way I’d never experienced. I flattened my hand against the rough stucco wall. My palm turned sweaty. His fingertips felt so good stroking me in—let’s face it—a first-date, innocent way.
“Is everything okay, Harper? Now you seem tense again.” As Brody said this, he massaged my shoulder with a pressure so strong that it fell just short of hurting. It was intense enough, and good enough, that I wished he would do that to me everywhere.
But after a few strokes of his hand, his fingers followed the strap of my bikini, trailing fire, down to cup my breast. He wasn’t technically touching me anymore since my bathing suit top separated his skin from mine. But I could feel the pressure of his hand, and the heat of it. Never mind what I’d thought about the innocence of his touch. Electricity arced from his body to mine.
If he felt the same way I did as he slid his thumb back and forth across my breast, he didn’t let on. In the darkness of the pavilion, I couldn’t see the green of his eyes, but the shadows underneath were deep. He looked older than me, and serious.
I giggled.
“What’s so funny?” he whispered.
“Um, where do I start? Most guys, if they were touching a girl’s collarbone and noticed she was acting tense, would take their hands off her before asking after her health, rather than touching her breast.” The last word came out as a sigh. I was pretty proud that I’d produced a joke under the circumstances, but inwardly I cringed as I heard myself. I sounded like I wanted him to stop touching me. I didn’t.
Incredibly, he was unfazed. “Most guys?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “You do this enough to have a test group?”
“It’s all in the name of science,” I said faintly.
“No means no,” he said. “They lecture us about this endlessly in PE. Do you want me to stop?”
I shook my head.
“Me neither.” He moved toward me. He was about to kiss me.
The nearer he came, the more scrambled my brain got. His lips were so close to my ear that his breath feathered across my cheek.
Suddenly he’d backed away from me. No! I wanted him to kiss me. Hadn’t I made that clear?
He nodded toward the nearest arched doorway to the beach. Halfway understanding his message, I jerked my camera bag up by the strap just as Kennedy burst in.
“Harper!” Glancing from me to my camera bag and back to me, he let me hear all the accusation in his voice. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
I smiled. “Sorry. I was right here.”
His angry eyes cut to Brody. A breeze from outside caught his wet ponytail and flopped it forward over his shoulder.
Brody didn’t do much. He gave Kennedy a subtle look down and back up. I wasn’t sure, but I thought this meant, Come at me, bro, because I can take you.
Amazingly, I might have been right. Kennedy seemed to get the same message. He didn’t engage with Brody. He turned back to me and demanded, “What are you doing?”
I held up my camera bag. “The light’s bad, but we were attempting to get our yearbook Superlatives picture out of the way.”
“Because her deadline is coming up,” Brody chimed in. He said this without a trace of sarcasm. Brody didn’t really do sarcasm. But I heard the private joke in his words: Kennedyhad been on me to meet this deadline. In a roundabout way, he was the one who’d convinced us to stand in a shadowy beach pavilion alone together. So there .
Kennedy’s burst of anger seemed to have drained away. We’d managed to talk him down, just as I had in journalism class.
Except this time, he had reason to be jealous. Brody was toying with me.
Kennedy told me quietly, “Come on back.”
“I will.”
He paused a moment
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