Page 31 of I Choose You

Let’s just say there’s a lot of skin. Licking. Sucking.

When she repositions and looks at me again, the green in her hazel orbs sparkle. They’re more brilliant than the field we played soccer on in college. A mix between clover and ripe avocado with shades of honey intertwined. Our bed head competes with one another. Memories of studying too late when we were in college filter in, and thoughts of me sneaking into her room while she was asleep push forward. I used to do it often, especially when the stresses from my classes got to me. Back then, the charge between us wasn’t as palpable as it is now, so sharing a bed was nothing more than two people lying next to each other to sleep.

I wonder if she feels it too, this buzzing energy between us. If the charge is as palpable for her as it is for me.

She traces my face, skating over my cheek and down to the scar on the side of my jaw with her gaze. The shine in her eyes turns more magnetizing and—wait a minute, am I seeing what I think I’m seeing? Is that longing? My mind conjures up that Fish4U app again, and I assume the expression is because of that, with the yearning that must have guided her toward a site like that in the first place.

My voice is low, almost a whisper, when I say, “You don’t need to be on that app, you know.” All she needs to do is walk into any store, and she would steal enough stares to wake the raging, green-eyed monster inside of me.

She sure as shit would steal my stare.

She did steal mine.

“You check off all the boxes, Kenz. All of them. I hope whoever you meet sees that. Just in case they don’t, know it’s true. You’re smart, have a heart that’s big as fuck, and my fucking God…” My throat tightens, causing the words to cut off, and I’m thankful as hell for it because revealing as much as I want to wouldn’t be a smart idea. Biting my tongue is my best choice. The safest. No matter how much it fucking sucks. “Just…trust me.”

Her face flushes cherry red, causing her to resort to hiding her face by resting her cheek on me. I’m unsure if it’s due to embarrassment or something else altogether. “I—”

“You don’t have to say a word. Just know that what you think are your flaws make you who you are.” My hand grows a mind of its own, moving to her hair and running through it. I could shut the hell up, hide the sentiment I’m sure is lingering behind each word, but the hell with it. I want her to feel what I’m saying, and I want it to crack her chest wide open, so she realizes she doesn’t need a stupid ass dating site because she’s a fucking catch. “Truly, Mackenzie, you’re incredible. A guy’s an idiot if he doesn’t see it.”

14

Mackenzie

It’s Halloween, and I squeezed myself into a tight, leather Cat woman suit. It’s like a second skin. My dark hair is curled into ringlets that hang down past my shoulders, and my bangs are clipped back. Instead of a mask, I have cat whiskers drawn on my face with old eyeliner I found in my make-up bag.

I finally finished my profile on Fish4U and matched with a senior at the same college I went to a few miles away. It’s nerve-wracking thinking about how it’ll go, so I’ve been trying to distract myself. Nerves bloom in my belly when I think about it too much, and I don’t want the chance to convince myself what a bad idea it is.

I pull the pantry door open, wanting to eat something small before heading out. We’re meeting on campus, outside of a Halloween party he—Ben—invited me to. It was sort of last minute, but I figured it would be better to meet him around people than alone. My first instinct was to say no, and run in the opposite direction, but Nelly’s advice has been in my head ever since we were at the club. That, and Mason is invading my thoughts more and more.

I can’t get him the hell out of my head. It’s a real problem. One I’ll do just about anything to fix.

I’m biting into a chocolate chip cookie when Luke and Mason join me in the kitchen. Neither dress for the holiday but wear workout gear consisting of basketball shorts and t-shirts. I’m quick to zone in on Mason and watch him from the corner of my eye. His workout clothes cling to his lean body. Years of soccer, along with his and Luke’s daily workout sessions have kept him in shape all these years.

His skin is still wet with sweat, and I bet he has that salty aroma to match. The muscles in his arms tense and relax when he puts a hand on the counter and hops onto one of the island seats. Calf muscles the size of rocks puff off his legs when he positions them on the lower ring of the chair. I shouldn’t be checking him out when I’m about to meet another guy, but I do, and I am, and I like what I see.

“Whoa…” Luke catches sight of me as he makes his way to the fridge and tugs it open. His reaction makes me stuff a cookie straight into my mouth and look away because hello—I don’t want either of them catching the lingering glances I’m sending Mason’s way. “Where are you off to looking like that?”

“Halloween party.” Crumbs spray out of my mouth, and I’m quick to wipe them from my costume.

Luke digs around for food, his body hidden behind the door of the appliance. Crackling sounds before he walks out with the bags of lunch meat and cheese. These cookies will not keep me full all night, but my nerves are shot. I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep anything heavier down. Then again, I should eat something substantial in case I decide to have a few beers, something to absorb the alcohol and keep me from getting tipsy and tired after one.

Luke opens a bag of bread on the counter. “Where at?”

Mason reaches across the counter, pops open the meat container, and folds a piece into his mouth. Everything about him is so effortless. I can’t stand it, but I love it. I betray myself when I rake over him one last time before shifting to Luke. “Make me one?”

Luke nods. He doesn’t grab a plate. Just thwacks six slices of bread on the counter and starts smearing mayonnaise on them.

“It’s over on Charlestone Drive,” I tell them.

A wave of recognition passes over their near identical faces, and I take in the minute differences between them; two things that I used to decipher between them when we were young. Luke’s nose angles to the right, a centimeter more than Mason’s, and his forehead is longer, not by much, but it’s noticeable if you study their faces long enough.

“Why does that sound familiar?” Luke focuses on our food while he taps into his memory. On the other hand, Mason doesn’t spare a glance in my direction, and I don’t know why considering our coffee time together in this very kitchen after our morning showers. It almost makes me twitch with irritation.

He focuses on the marble countertop. From what I can see, he’s not angry. His brows don’t pinch together. There’s no crease between them, but that doesn’t mean he’s not working through a thought. Mason has always grown quiet at the first sight of discomfort. It’s not that he doesn’t like confrontation—I mean, who does, honestly—but it has to do with his thought process. He likes to assess and think before words come out that he could regret. He has always been calculated, but I can’t figure out why he’s in his head, not when I’m too busy in my own.

Luke’s busy snapping his fingers, trying to figure it out, when Mason interjects. “It’s where the frat houses are.”

Luke stops to slather mayonnaise on two more pieces of bread. “Huh?”

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