Page 85 of Promise Me Nothing
I reach out and trace the tattoo slightly. It says ‘free’ in script, and has a feather underneath. Suddenly, I realize what I’m doing and I yank my hand back.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have…” But I pause when I see the heated look in her eyes. That her breathing has picked up, her chest rising and falling with more effort than our earlier run had produced.
“It’s okay,” she says, her eyes locked with mine.
We stand there for a moment, just watching each other.
If she were a girl I’d invited over to party, I’d step into her space right now. Bring my mouth an inch from hers. Watch her lips part as I place a hand on her hip.
Then wait for her to step into me.
And I’d do what I’ve been imagining doing. Press all my hardness against her soft.
I’ve done it in the past, and it usually works. Whether it’s the seduction, the flirting, or just chemistry, I’ve never had an issue with getting a woman’s attention.
And I’m tempted. Especially when I see her eyes drop to my mouth, her tiny tongue peeking out to wet her lips, probably without her even realizing what she’s doing.
“Alright, who wants a margarita!”
Vicky’s voice has us both stepping apart and looking in her direction. Ivy comes running out behind her, a smile on her face.
I love seeing my sister’s energy up, when she’s overwhelmed with happiness because life is so good in the moment that she doesn’t think to care about the drama that her own circumstances is causing.
She’s a much younger twelve-year-old than I was.
When I was her age, I’d already had my first drink. Already made out with a few girls and got a handy from Rita Sholes at an overnight trip we went to as an eighth grade class. I was broody, rebellious and determined and always out doing something.
Ivy only has a handful of friends, a group of girls who are just as sheltered and protected as she is. She’s tutored privately and rarely goes anywhere without a family member present.
I’ve wondered a few times which one of us had it better. If the freedom to be a mess and fuck around and make mistakes is a better life than being protected from everything.
“I’ll take a margarita,” Hannah says, giving Vicky a smile and accepting a bottle of sunscreen handed to her by Ivy.
Your skin is pretty white like mine. Make sure to cover up or you’ll burn.
Hannah glances to me with a small smile, then looks back to Ivy.Thank you. I’ll make sure to do that.
I make a beeline for the kitchen, intent on helping Vicky with the drinks and avoiding the opportunity to watch Hannah rub her body in lotion.
Vicky eyes me when I come up behind her. “What’s up?”
“Just helping.”
She raises a brow, then pulls two margarita glasses out of the cabinet. When she turns back to look at me, I see skepticism.
“Since when?”
I roll my eyes. “You act like I never help with things.”
“That’s because you don’t.”
“Well, maybe I’ve changed since I moved to San Francisco.”
Vicky snorts. “Whatever, pumpkin. Go get the tequila.”
I spend a few minutes helping her make our drinks in silence, refusing to let myself peek out to the pool.
“So, who’s the girl?”
