Page 40 of Reckless Roses
I pull back, my hands running rampant through his hair, twisting in the soft curls I’ve always loved so much. My face is still between his hands as I tilt his up to mine. His eyes are cascading shades of emerald, reflecting the glow of the night sky, matching the glimmer left by our kiss on his full lips.
His beautiful eyes fall closed, his hold on me tightening, like he’s trying to grasp it before it disappears. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for that.” His words catch on a tortured breath.
“I hope I lived up to expectations.” I laugh hoarsely, still lost in the feel of us.
He drops an arm to my waist, dragging me against him. “You are the embodiment of all my dreams, Elena.” His mouth moves against my throat as he speaks, the words stitching themselves into the fabric of my soul.
He looks up as I look down, our lips a hairsbreadth apart. I close my eyes in anticipation, but August surprises me as he says, “I can’t do that again until you’re sure.” He tucks a stray curl behind my ear. “I can’t have your bits and pieces. Not these ones. I don’t want your body if I can’t have your heart too. I don’t want your heart if I’m not the only one holding it.” He swallows hard, like the words are thick, stuck inside his throat. “I can’t bear anything less.”
I don’t open my eyes, too afraid of what I’ll find staring back at me if I do. Instead, I press my forehead against his. I want to tell him I’m ready to give him everything—but I know I can’t make promises I won’t keep. Not with August. He’s too important, and whatever just happened between us is far too real. Our past, and the people in it, is far too complicated not to consider.
I nod, and he sighs against my lips.
“You were in love with me?” I find myself asking for—needing—the confirmation. Confirmation that someone could’ve ever yearned for me like that, because a small part of me has always wondered if it was me, if I was the problem, the reason he couldn’t call it that.
My eyes are still closed as he pulls away, shuffling with movement before he nudges something sharp against my hand. When I open them, I drop my gaze to his sketchbook propped between us. I take it between my hands, slipping my thumb through the cover before lifting my eyes to search his for permission. He offers a shallow nod, and as I flip through the book, I find page after page of…me. In black and white, drawings of myself stretch across the canvas paper, images of me reading, laughing, even working—curled on my couch, brow furrowed in concentration with my computer on my lap.
For years, August and I have spent our days and nights in peaceful silence—me reading or writing, and him drawing. He’s always been private about his pieces, but I never could’ve imagined he was spending his time studying me.
Shocked tears drip down my cheeks, emotion lodged inside my throat and rendering me speechless. I softly close the book, setting it on the ground beside us before surging forward and taking his face between my hands, pressing my lips to his. He said he wouldn’t kiss me again, but I don’t have words to expressthe feeling coursing through my veins, I can only attempt to show him.
“I’ve always been in love with you,” August whispers, kissing away the moisture beneath my eyes.
I shiver as his words move through me, planting themselves inside my chest. For the first time in my life, I feel capable of being loved—I’d just been asking for it from the wrong person.
I open my eyes, taking in the sight of the man below me. I’ve always felt like he was the most beautiful person I’d ever known, but looking at him now, it all feels heightened.
“I think I could fall in love with you, too.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t say that again until you’re sure.”
15
ELENA
“HEAVENLY” - CIGARETTES AFTER SEX
AGE TWENTY-FOUR - FEBRUARY
Rain peltsthe pavement as I jog across the street, its scent overpowering the smell of the ocean in a surprisingly pleasant way.
I run around the backside of the Boardwalk, careful not to catch the attention of my brothers through the window of their soon-to-be surf shop. I might stop in and check out their progress when I’m done, but speaking with August is my priority right now.
We haven’t talked since we kissed in the dark two weeks ago. Since he told me he’s in love with me. That he has always been in love with me.
I wanted to take more time to grieve my relationship with Zach, to consider what it would mean to take things with August to the next level. He has been my best friend my entire life, and I’m not sure who I would be if not for him, and regardless of anything else, I can’t lose that. I also can’t ignore the repercussions of jumping from the arms of one brother toanother, but I was clear with Zach that I wouldn’t wait for him, that I’d move on if he left.
Sure, moving on with his brother might make me kind of an asshole, but it’s clear Zach has known the way August has felt about me all this time, and he continued keeping me on his hook anyway. He dangled me in front of his brother like I was something to show off, something to possess just because he could, even if he didn’t really want me.
Knowing that should make me feel bitter. It should break my heart and make me rage, but it doesn’t. Honestly, it just makes me feel tired—tired of wasting so much of my life, all of my energy, on someone who never truly saw me. All I want now is to turn that energy toward the one person who has always looked at me clearly, who never tried to change my colors or pluck my petals. The person who has loved me all along.
Since that kiss, I see it—see him—every time I close my eyes. I feel him when I touch my lips, when my hand slips between my legs in the middle of the night. I’ve always known I had an attraction to August, one I refused to explore, but now, it’s like something inside me has been awakened, and I’m consumed by him entirely.
It was for the sake of our friendship, and both of our hearts, that I’ve stayed away the last two weeks, thinking and overthinking every scenario and outcome of the predicament we’ve found ourselves in. I’ve realized there is no part of me that doesn’t want to take this risk and explore whatever has bloomed between us. There are only parts of me that know I’d regret it if I never tried.
The back door to the last suite on the Boardwalk is unlocked, and I slip inside quietly, wiping my feet on the welcome mat before following the narrow hallway that leads to the front of what will soon become his tattoo parlor.
The open space is nearly empty, save for a few tray tables, two benches, a chair, and a reception desk near the front. There isn’t any art on the walls or decor up yet. There also isn’t any August, though I was sure I saw his Bronco parked behind the building.
