Page 69 of Fake As Puck
“Go. I’ll find the girls.”
I watch her walk toward where Chelsea and the other girlfriends and wives are setting up chairs on the deck, and I try not tonotice the way her shorts fit or how her legs look in the afternoon sun.
This is going to be a very long day.
By noon, everyone’s three beers in and the energy is exactly what I expected. It’s loud, relaxed, the kind of chaotic fun that happens when a bunch of athletes get together with no responsibilities and unlimited alcohol.
Liv has changed into her swimsuit. It’s a simple black bikini that’s more devastating than anything else would be. She’s been circulating between conversations, charming everyone she talks to, fitting in like she’s been part of this group for years instead of hours.
I’m standing by the grill with Reed, trying to focus on his story about some ridiculous thing that happened during his honeymoon, when Liv appears at my side.
“Hey,” she says, sliding her arm around my waist.
“Hi,” I smile down at her. Hell, she’s cute. She’s absolutely adorable.
She’s close enough that I can smell her sunscreen and the faint scent of whatever shampoo she used this morning. Close enough that I can see the water droplets still clinging to her collarbone from the swim she just took.
“Having fun?” I ask.
“The best. Your friends are great.”
“They like you too.”
“Come sit with me,” she says, tugging on my hand. “I need someone to help me drink this beer.”
“You need help drinking beer?”
“I need someone to keep me company while I drink this beer.”
I smirk. “That’s different.”
She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Completely different.”
She leads me over to where a group is sitting in a circle of deck chairs, talking and laughing. But instead of sitting in an empty chair, Liv settles into my lap.
No hesitation. No asking if it’s okay.
Just sits down, adjusts herself so she’s comfortable, and continues the conversation like nothing happened.
Meanwhile, I’m trying not to have a complete mental breakdown.
Because she’s in my lap. Her back is against my chest, her legs are draped over mine, and one of her hands is resting on my thigh like we do this all the time. Do I need to mention that we don’t? Being this close to her is making me feel… things.
“You okay?” she asks quietly, turning her head so only I can hear.
“Yeah.” I nod.
“You sure? You look tense.”
I shake my head. “I’m not tense.”
She leans her forehead on mine. “You’re definitely tense.”
She shifts slightly, getting more comfortable, and I have to bite back a groan.
“Is that better?” she asks.
I hold her thigh and nod, “Yeah. Better.”
