Page 21 of The Fall
He shifts closer. “All good. Nothing big, reviewing the call-ups.” He skims his hand along my hip.
The heat of his palm slips through my shorts. It could be now. My second first kiss. I could do it, lean in, tilt my chin up?—
Blair’s eyes darken. “Come here,” he says.
I’m moving before my mind catches up, leaning into his chest. He’s so solid, so real. I want this life, this man. I want to remember loving him, and I want to love him again. It’s going to happen, my second first kiss?—
But no. He brushes his lips against my forehead, an achingly gentle touch. I close my eyes.
“We should get ready.” I feel his lips move against my skin as he speaks.
I hum, nose at his jaw, bury my face in his throat. I can imagine him guiding me back, skimming his big hands under my shirt.
Blair tightens his hand on my hip. “Torey... Concussion protocol.”
“I know, I know.” Fuck. No strenuous activity.
He nods, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
“We can’t be late,” I say. “Hayes will eat everything.” The words come out from I don’t know where. Memory? Instinct? Pure guess?
Blair chuckles. “Fair point. He’s a human garbage disposal.”
Score one for me.
“But so are you. Don’t forget your suit. Last time we were there, you ended up swimming in your boxers.”
From victory to defeat.
He says it like an inside joke, a shared memory that should spark laughter and fond recollection.Last time.An innocuous throwaway phrase, but every “last time” is going to be like this.
Blair clambers over me to get off the bed, stopping to cage me and bury his face in my neck and nibble at my collarbone. I try to snake my arms around his neck, but he snags my wrists and kisses the inside of each before his feet hit the floor. I can’t fucking breathe.
Then he’s gone, padding into the master bath.
I push the heels of my palms into my eyes until stars flash behind my lids.
The shower starts. Blair reappears, holding out his hand.
Oh, shit. My heart launches into overdrive. I was ready for a kiss and ready to imagine a little bit more, but this? Showering together?
“Shower’s warming up,” he says, tugging me to my feet. “Take your time.”
He pulls me in, wraps his arms around me, breathes in my hair, and then pulls away. He shuts the bedroom door behind him on his way out. I blink.
The shower helps, the hot water and steam clearing some of the cobwebs. I let muscle memory take over, reaching for products without checking labels. The smells are comforting. His smells. Our smells.
Wrapped in a towel, I stare at myself in the foggy mirror. My reflection looks back, known and unknown. This is my face, my body, my life.
I dress fast, not overthinking it. My clothes in my drawers in this house are more evidence of my life.
Blair’s in the kitchen, packing a paper bag with chips, soda, and Key lime tarts. The house feels different with him here, warmer, more alive.
“Ready? You know how Lily gets when we’re late.”
Lily. The name sparks a flicker, a half-formed image of a little girl with a French braid and a gap-toothed smile. Hayes’s daughter? It feels right, but I’m not sure. It’s another piece of the puzzle I’m desperately trying to solve.
“Ready.” I join him at the island, and he looks me up and down. What a blast from the past to feel so fluttery and inexperienced again. He pulls me in, sliding his hand around my waist and curling it into the small of my back. I’m plastered to him, all of me up against all of him.
