Page 6 of Until We Kiss

Five days.

Hopefully, one of those days will include a huge mouthful of dick for me. That’s what I’m supposed to be doing. Focus on goal. That’s how I got so good at football.

“We’re finally here!” Carter extends his arms, like he’s giving the ocean a hug. “This is so fuckinggolden.”

On the other side of him, Rory stoops to grab a handful of sand, letting it stream through his fingers. Dorian’s smiling, too, black hair tangling across his forehead.

This is the place I learn now to bemeagain. The place I can let go and…

And…fuck it.

I grab the back of my shirt and rip it over my head. Then I’m moving, toes sinking into the sand as I run, knee hurting like hell, pain aching down to my toes, but I keep going. Like I’m sprinting away from cold Indigo Falls. Away from empty days and rehab, from the guy I used to be, lost scholarships and thoselooksI get—the ones full of pity or disappointment.

I let out a whoop, echoing over the empty beach as I sprint into the water, the cold spray shocking me and dragging down my sweats.

A shout echoes behind me, and then Carter’s bulk crashes in at my side. Of course he follows. He always follows, and I get that zip of lightning over my shoulders as he careens into me—shoulders only though, he never unbalances my knee. He laughs as I splash him, then he flips me off, and I leap onto him.

He shouts in my ear before we sink under the salt water, our legs tangling, a wave dragging us out. We sputter for air, finding our footing in the waist deep water, the sand being towed out from under our feet by the undercurrent.

Carter wipes off his face, then shakes off his hair. “Don’t want to hurt your knee.”

“I’m good.”

Shit, I am.

For this moment, at least. Yeah, it hurts, but the water swirls around my hips, cooling my joints, cold relief.

Sand stretches out behind us, glowing in the moon. Dorian’s shin-deep, his arms locked over his chest. “It’scold.”

Carter splashes water toward him. “You’re missing out, dude.”

Rory’s firmly on the shore too. “Matter of opinion.”

“Your choice.” Carter turns toward me. “Wanna?—‍”

“Get ready.” I jump on him, taking us both under the water.

We push, we splash, we dunk, we laugh like we used to. Carter’s always careful of my knee, even after I tell him not to hold back. We keep going, playing,messing around until we’re breathing hard and shivering, and then somehow, he’s holding me up in a piggyback. My legs are around his hips, my hands gripping his shoulders. He’s so big and solid, skin slick with salty water, heat everywhere he’s against me, and cold where he isn’t.

Shit, I don’t know how we got like this.

“We should probably get out,” I say.

But I don’t move. I feel normal for a moment. It’s the closest I’ve been to football-Theo in months.

“Alright.” He twists his head, speaking closer to my ear. My heart thumps, my skin prickling awake.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing every part of my body to relax, and focus on the lap of the water, not the soft press of my crotch against his lower back. Not the ebb of that darkness out there, hovering over the water, seeming to get closer and closer.

“Give me another,” he says.

I clear my throat. “A fact?”

“Yep.” He squeezes his forearms lightly against my thighs. He’s a pretty big dude, too. Not as focused on the gym as I was, but we’re nearly the same height.

“A blue whale's blowhole can spray water thirty feet in the air,” I say.

“That sounds like a challenge,” he says

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