Page 70 of Lie for a Lie

“What about my whiskey?”

“Your drink of choice.”

Eyeing the bottle that he now has pressed against his lips, a tiny bit dribbles down his chin and his exposed chest. My core tightens, and I have to fight a moan from escaping my lips at the idea of slowly licking up the whiskey trail.

I clear my throat and adjust in the chair. Graham offers me the bottle, and without hesitation, I take a large swig that burns my lip, causing me to hiss slightly. Graham chuckles and takes the bottle from my outstretched hand.

“I was going to offer you a morphine pill I had in the boat, but I think we will hold off on that for now.”

His smile is warm, and it feels as if everything else has disappeared from around us. I can’t help it when my eyes linger on his lips more than I usually allow myself.

There is this growing need I have been fighting inside to take that next step with Graham.

“Not really into drugs except the occasional joint. Don’t tell Bre because she would freak out, but sometimes, after one of my rougher shifts, I need it to sleep. High school was a completely different story.”

Graham studies me a moment before smiling down towards his lap. I can hear laughter from down by the water.

“Did you do any sports?”

I linger on him again.

“Yes, I was on the dance team and ran track. I enjoyed more of the long-distance running. Most likely a trauma response.”

I shrug before asking.

“Can I see your phone?”

He doesn’t hesitate to hand it to me, and I pause when I see his lock screen. It is a picture taken at Clint’s of us from the last family dinner. It is almost candid.

“You changed your lock screen?” I say, not hiding my surprise.

“I update it occasionally, yes,” he says slightly insulted.

I can’t help the flirty laugh I respond with, and he notices the change in my tone.

“Why this picture?”

I grin, and Graham glares at me.

“Baby, you know exactly why that picture.”

“Who took it?”

I study the picture, noticing how I am looking at Graham.

“Chris.”

Once again, the air between us becomes thick. I focus on his phone, head to the camera, and turn it to face us.

“Smile, we can add to your collection.”

I pull him towards me slightly with a smile before taking a few pictures. His arm comes to rest on the back of my chair. Both of us seem to linger in the closeness, and I look up towards him, wanting to close any distance as I feel his hand touch my face.

I lean into it for a moment, letting my eyes fall to his lips forgetting everything. Both of us seem to be breathing heavily.

I clear my throat, pulling away from him and focusing on going through the pictures we just took. Deciding which is my favorite before assigning it my contact photo as his fingers begin to play with the ends of my braids.

I decided I want to dance with him and open his phone to the playlist he has had on shuffle most of the day. I see my favorite tragic country love song. As the notes of the opening piano keys of Garth Brooks’ “The Dance” play from the speakers, I hand him back his phone, and he smiles, looking down at it.

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