Page 18 of Embody

I don’t speak, slowly shaking my head to answer, then let my eyes run the length of her, soaking in every delectable inch.

“W…why not?” she asks on a shaky wisp.

I force my gaze back up to lock on hers and move forward, a slow, subtle inch, until our bodies touch. “Belle, I…”

“Call me Bellamy,” she sweetly interrupts. “I’m named after my two aunts, Isabelle and Amy. If you shorten it, we leave one of them out and I feel bad. Silly, I know,” she rolls her eyes, “but I’m a sappy, sentimental kinda girl.”

Sappy. Sentimental. In girl language, they bothactuallymean romantic, hearts and flowers, hold me while I cry through movies, a rainstorm means stop and kiss me. Those kind of things. Because I have so many in my family, I speak “female” fluently.

The “why” of which I have yet to figure out myself, I think I really do want to get to know this girl, do more than just sleep with her, but I’m not sure I’m ready forall that. And this beauty, looking at me with the hope of a tender, meaningful kiss glazing over her big green eyes, deserves everything her heart desires.

I know next to nothing about her, but I’m sure of it.

So, for the right reasons and not because of the “sister stipulation”,” I remove my hand from her hip, back up and yell, “I found Bellamy.”

She searches my stare for the answer to her question ‘what changed and why’ asked in her eyes, but I say nothing. Leaving her to unfairly have to wonder, I turn and walk away, forcing my shoulders not to droop with disappointment.

I bow out of playing another round and go to bed, disgusted with myself to realize…they’re right. Brynn and Judd have me pegged. I’m not quite the man whore my sister thinks I am, but I’m not exactly chivalrous either. And Bellamy—like Brynn, Skylar, and every other woman in my family—is more than worthy ofnothingless than the romantic fairytale I now know she wants.

Girls don’t abstain from dating and frat parties for some half-ass effort made by punks such as myself in hopes of eventually getting them into bed. No, they hold out for the whole, sincere package.

And that’s that.

Or so I thought.

Just as I roll over to try and fall asleep, not picturing Bellamy, my phone pings with a text.

 

Brynn: You ass! I ignored poor Ryder all night for nothing. I almost cried from the sad, confused look on his face and why? I know it was you who bought her that bikini and stuff, and Lord only knows what you tried when you found her in the game…after walking right by me! Deal’s off cheater!

 

Me: You’re right, I did buy her that stuff. So yes, I cheated. But for the record, I only touched her hip when I found her. Doesn’t matter though. I agree, deal’s off. You be happy with Ryder. He’s a great guy. And I’ll stay away from your friend. Night, I love you Brynny.

 

Brynn: I love you too. And seriously, you’ll stay away from her AND let me date Ryder? What changed your mind?

 

Me: Seriously. Go for it. Ryder adores you and I want you to be happy. As for changing my mind, I just came to my senses. She and I are too different, not my type.

 

Brynn: Thank you.

 

Me: No problem. It was shitty of me to suggest playing games with people’s emotions in the first place. Night.

 

 

THE NEXT MORNING, I trudge downstairs, planning to grab something quick for breakfast and head back to my own apartment. What I get, however, is a chorus of “good mornings” and a table obviously set for one big ole ‘everybody join in’ brunch.

Just fucking awesome. I can hardly wait.

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