Page 30 of Cross the Line
‘I think I like it when you threaten me.’ His grin widens a fraction more. ‘And that wasn’t flirting. Just a fact.’
Shaking my head, I fight to keep from grinning along with him. The butterflies that once took up residence in my stomach make a triumphant return. ‘I can’t with you.’
‘You better manage, because you’re stuck with me for a while.’
I can certainly think of worse ways to spend my time.
‘Come on.’ He springs up and extends a hand, the top half of his wetsuit still swinging down by his hips. ‘Your turn to get in the water.’
‘Yeah, no.’ I brace myself, sinking my fingers into the warm sand. ‘I’m good here on land.’
‘I’ll let you paddle around on my board,’ he cajoles. ‘Remember how you used to beg Oak to let you?’
Oh, I remember. No matter what my brother was doing, I wanted to do it too, from soccer to karting to learning how to surf. Except, unlike Oakley, who could do it all without a worry, I’d usually end up hurt. Even low-level physical challenges were a risk to my health. As I got older, I drew in on myself, tried fewer new things, telling myself I was content to stay in my own bubble. Content to just stay safe.
But Dev has never treated me like a glass figurine. While Oakley banned me from joining them out of worry, Dev almost always convinced him to let me try. Of course, I knew my own limits, but witnessing the way he’d go to bat for me melted my heart time and again.
‘The water’s too cold,’ I decline once more, even if I do appreciate the offer – that he remembered a small but important detail about me. ‘And I didn’t bring a wetsuit.’
He points at me, staring hard. ‘I’m getting you in that water. Mark my words.’
‘Uh-huh, sure.’ I reach into my crossbody bag to check the time on my phone, but I forget my task when I spot my brother’s name multiple times on the screen.
Oakley:Hope you haven’t fucked up the new job!!!! (jk I know you haven’t, Chava would have ratted on you already if you had)
Oakley:But he did say you guys are back home for the week, tell Mom and Dad hi for me
Oakley:And tell Mom to stop sending me all those recipes, I swear that woman thinks I only survive on takeout
Oakley:Don’t you dare tell her that I do
Oakley:Things going okay with Dev though? You good?
Seeing his texts after exchanging undeniably flirty banter with Dev almost makes me feel like I’ve been caught doing something bad. Not to mention I’ve spent hours drooling over the guy, something I never would have gotten away with had Oakley been here. My chest may be tightening with anxiety now, but my brother’s messages are a much-needed reminder of why I need to keep my feelings locked down.
Willow:All good, haven’t gotten fired yet!! I should have some stuff for Dev to post soon, keep an eye out for it
I clear my throat after I send the text, trying to recentre myself as I look back up at Dev. ‘We should probably head home,’ I tell him, slipping my phone back into my bag. ‘I want to get started on editing these photos so we can get that first post up.’
There’s a beat of hesitation, like he’s sensed something has changed for me, before he nods and turns his hand over again, offering to help me up. This time I take it, and the sensation of his palm meeting mine sends heat shooting up my arm. He’s careful with how he pulls me up, closing his other hand around my elbow to keep from yanking too hard on my wrist. It’s a move I taught him a long time ago, and one that’s necessary in order to make sure the delicate joint doesn’t slide out of place.
It’s things like that, these details he’s remembered for all these years, that weaken the resolve I’ve put in place to keep things between us platonic. Honestly, if this is what I’m acting like after three hours with him, what will I be like after three days, let alone threeweeks?
I thank him quickly and slip my arm from his grasp so I can lift my camera again. ‘Mind if I get a couple more shots of you walking away?’ I need a minute to get ahold of myself again. ‘Kind of as anI’m coming back; you better watch outmessage.’
Dev smirks but picks up his board and walks away from me, calling over his shoulder, ‘I know you hate to see me go, but you love to watch me walk away!’
——
We’re back in Dev’s mom’s SUV a little later. He’s changed into shorts and a T-shirt, the kind of outfit I’m most used to seeing him in. Dev in a tux is a wonder, and Dev in a race suit is impressive, but Dev dressed down? That’s my favourite version.
‘Can we make a stop on the way home?’ I ask once we’re pulling back onto the road.
‘Sure.’ He’s relaxed in his seat, hands resting at the bottom of the steering wheel like driving a three-ton road car barely requires his attention. It’s hotter than I’d prefer to admit. ‘Where?’
‘Stella Margaux’s,’ I answer, dipping my chin in embarrassment. But I’m desperate for a little treat to inhale while I’m editing photos for the rest of the evening.
He glances my way, his brow furrowed. ‘The macaron place?’
