Page 16 of Until We Kiss

I shake my head, leaning away, when a shadow crosses over the top of us.

Yellow bikini girl is here. Perfect. And Carter’s suddenly laughing loudly and standing, dusting off the sand on his arms. Dorian’s there too, saying something about volleyball, and then Carter’s asking about the pink monstrosities before heading off toward the tents.

He doesn’t ask me to go.

I don’t want to fucking go.

I don’t know how to stop these thoughts. I can’t handle those fucking bananas on his shorts. Can’t handle that dimple. Can’t handle myself.

I half-avoid him for the rest of the day. Like an asshole. More like the guy I used to be—too cocky, too focused on himself. The guy who didn’t get what life was actually about.

But since he’s Carter, Ihearhim everywhere he goes. It’s impossible not to. He never once leaves my thoughts, no matter how many of those fucking drinks I suck down.

And when his arm loops over my shoulder later, smelling like sunblock and rum, and asks in my ear, “Are we good?”

I say, “Yes.”

Because it’s true.

No matter what I have to hide, or what I have to do, it’ll always be true.

4

“Theeeooo.”Carter’s voice is gravelly and low. Close.

My eyes flick open.

Shit, where are we?

A bed.

Specifically, I’m clinging to the edge of the mattress in our room, burrioted up in the sheet, skin clammy. My throat is dry, and I cough as I squint at him, contacts inagain.

What happened last night?

My memories are annoyingly fuzzy.

Carter’s manspreading next to me, legs wide, one arm flung out, no sheet, and a sleepy grin on his face.

Why does he look sohappythis early in the morning? At least that’s good—I must not have done anything weird.

Although… I slept in the bed with him. I dig through my memories, trying to latch onto last night. Fragments, drinks, stumbling. Laughing so loud someone yelled at us to be quiet. Carter tripping, and me helping him up.

Talking. His amber eyes as we laid here, white sheet between us, his toes brushing mine when he spread out his legs.

What did we talk about?

Why didn’t I stumble over to the ballsack couch?

I swallow hard, blinking to clear my eyes.

Jesus, I hope I didn’t?—

“You look cute bundled like that.” His smile extends—still sleepy but so sweet somehow. “Like a big pink worm. Except with blue eyes. Do worms have eyes?”

“Not really,” I say distractedly. “They have receptors.”

What did we talk about last night?It’s all jumbled together. I remember… football. I remember… him listening. Jesus, I hope I didn't cry.

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