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Tyler stands there, his shoulders hunched over. “You know this is a race, right?” His words are muffled by his awkward position.
I roll my eyes and take a step forward. My chest presses against the hard planes of his. It’s like I’ve just collided with a brick wall. I move my face slowly toward his, and my nose grazes the side of his cheek.
Wow, he smells good.
I close my eyes and breathe in.
It’s some kind of woodsy scent mixed with pure manliness. The name of his cologne is probably something likeLet Me Cradle You in My Arms and Show You All the Ways I’m a Man.
My arms are out to the side, hanging there like bird wings. We do an awkward two-step dance as we try to transfer the apple, but I can’t get it. Then his arms wrap around my back, and his body hunches over me like he’s giving me the biggest bear hug I’ve ever received. Heat spreads over my body, and my heart races as his warmth envelops me. My hands react, finding his firm shoulders.
Take the apple away, and we’re at stage one of foreplay, leading up to a make out.
Necking,as my dad would say.
I dip my head back farther as he leans in closer. His chin rests on the side of mycheek as he slowly rolls the apple into the crook of my neck. I know it’s supposed to be a game, but I’m going to need to fan myself after this encounter.
I have the apple now, but for some reason both of our arms are still wrapped around each other, and our bodies are pressed against one another.
I can hear the kids laughing in the crowd, and it’s not until one of them yells, “Mrs. Johnson, put the apple in the bucket!” that I realize I need to break apart from him. I rush to the bucket on the other end and drop it inside. When I turn around, Tyler is in the middle again with another apple.
For the love!
How many times do I have to do this?
I’m not sure my professional-teacher heart can handle it.
I run to him, and this time, we don’t even bother with the slow stuff. He wraps his arms around me, and I curl into him. My hands find the back of his neck and I try to tilt him to the spot I need so I can retrieve the goods. It doesn’t work. The apple pops out, rolling down to his chest, and now I’m using my chest to keep it pressed between our two bodies so it doesn’t fall to the ground.
It’s a good thing Bev didn’t play. The apple would have been lodged in her cleavage.
The sensual tension from our earlier pass is gone, replaced by humiliation and awkwardness as we roll our bodies together, trying to get the apple back to my neck.
I want to kill whoever made up this game—probably some horny teenager.
“I thought I’d be better at this.” Tyler laughs.
“Do you pass apples often?” The fruit is somewhere between my shoulder and his arm.
“No, but I am pretty skilled at using my body.” His smile turns devilish, and my insides flip over themselves.
I step back, letting the apple drop to the ground, and a group of children groan behind me.
“Atwork.” Tyler laughs. “I’m skilled at using my body atwork.”
I want to throw an apple at his smug smile.
“Okay! Okay!” The older gentleman waves his arms out. “That’s enough. Let’s see which team won.” He looks in our bucket first and shakes his head. “The adults only have one apple.”
“Boo!” the kids shout.
Tyler walks by me, whispering in my ear as he passes. “Don’t judge all of my talents based on this.”
His hot breath makes me shudder.
I’m never playing Pass the Appleagain.
Especially not with Tyler Dixon.
