Page 18 of The Forever Formula
“You did not. You probably pictured me in a G-string.”
I didn’t know why I’d said those words; they just came out like that. Maybe I did like the way he looked at me, like I was unobtainable. I wanted to flirt back with him. Dish it out just as much as he did.
After that, he splashed water at me, I splashed him back, and the fight devolved into us wrestling around in the water.
When Noah and I were younger, it was something we’d done often. But now, touching him like this ... after all that muscle he’d put on during two years of football ... I felt myself reacting to his closeness. The way his skin felt, the way his ab muscles tightened to hold me off.
Before I knew it, we just stopped and gazed at each other as his arms wrapped around me. And in an instant, our touch had changed from playful wrestling to intimate touching.
He’d loosened his grip and slid his arms around my back. My arms reached up and wrapped around his shoulders. We both breathed heavily as we leaned in close to each other.
Then he leaned in and kissed me.
I was shocked that Noah was kissing me. It wasn’t something I’d thought about before, but as soon as our lips touched, I felt my entire body tingle to life. It was electric, like every molecule in my body was suddenly pulsing in time with his.
When I parted my lips, his tongue met mine, so smooth and in perfect harmony with mine. I’d had a few awkward make-out sessions by that time, so it stood out to me how good a kisser he was.
It was Austen who’d caught us that night. I don’t know how long we’d stayed there like that, kissing. But as soon as he saw, he shouted to get everyone’s attention.
“Rachel’s making out with little Noah!”
Noah wasn’t little, for the record. But maybe through the eyes of an older brother, he was.
We broke apart in an instant, and like an asshole, I jumped from the pool, grabbed my clothes, and walked off.
It wasn’t the last time, though. Noah didn’t hold a grudge.
I laughed about the memory as I lay in bed.
Of course he didn’t ... he was a sophomore kissing a senior. That meant something back in the day. Not that the age gap mattered at all anymore.
I fell asleep that night wondering if Noah was still a good kisser.
8
MANSCAPING
Noah
Austen had been pestering me nonstop for three days straight about Rachel.
I had tried to talk to her a few days ago under the guise of sharing fried chicken, which my mom was all too happy to make when I told her I wanted to bring some by to be a good neighbor. But when I saw her putting in the work to the house, and I noticed the urn on the mantel, I couldn’t do it. It felt too slimy. I’d just shoved the plate of chicken at her and left like a coward.
Who was I to put ideas into Rachel’s head about selling? If she was fixing the cabin up to stay there, then that’s what Austen would have to accept.
Then again, maybe she was fixing it up to sell it. When Austen looked it up, it was worth almost a million dollars. I never seriously thought the bank would loan us the money. I knew he had a decent savings account, though, and our business was starting to earn a steady five figures.
Anyway, I had to at least make a little progress toward seeing Rachel, if only so Austen would think I was trying. So I headed back over to her place.
I knocked on her door, and it quickly swung open.
Today, Rachel was dressed in a pair of jeans and a fitted pink T-shirt. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she looked good enough to eat.
If the teenage me had thought Rachel was pretty back then ... well, grown-up me was having a hard time keeping his thoughts clean.
Her eyes had always been her best feature—gray in color and inquisitive—fringed with black lashes. And while that hadn’t changed, the rest of her was every bit as beautiful. Full lips. Small, up-turned nose. High cheekbones. Her curves were perfection, but I fought with myself to keep my eyes on hers.
“You know, some people call before they stop by,” she said with a bit of snark.
