When Everything Is Blue(52)

I have no idea what he’s talking about. Easy? Like, she’s a slut and I’m not? “What does that even mean?”

He shakes his head and smiles at me with brotherly affection, like he does whenever I say something completely dweeby or weird.

“You’re a little clueless sometimes, T.”

“I’m clueless?” I point to myself, completely baffled and indignant. He’s the clueless one as far as I’m concerned.

“Yeah, I’ve been making moves on you for years.”

“You have?” I ask incredulously. There’s absolutely no proof of that. I mean, I would know. “When?”

“My whole eighth-grade year. All we ever did was wrestle here on my bedroom floor.”

I glance down at the carpet. Chris did go through a phase where he wanted to show me all these wrestling moves. I had an awful lot of rug burns that year. I thought he’d go out for the high school team, but he never did.

“I thought you were just trying to prove how much stronger than me you were.”

Chris gives me a hard look. “By pinning you against the ground over and over?”

It did take an awful long time for him to count to three. How could I not have noticed that? But straight guys do that sort of thing all the time. There’s no way I could have known there was anything behind it.

“Shit.” I look at him. “So, are you gay?”

He shrugs and goes wide-eyed. “I don’t know. All I know is I think about you all the time. Dirty thoughts, T. Really filthy. Like, pornographic. That night in Sebastian….” He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “All I’ve wanted since then is to get you alone in my tent. I have these schemes to kidnap you and….” He shakes his head, a small smile curving his pink lips. His face looks a little flushed. “You don’t want to know.”

I probably do, in fact. I can’t believe he’s had feelings for me all this time and hasn’t said anything. He tells me everything. “You should have said something,” I reiterate.

“I tried. I mean, I thought you’d pick up on it. Then after that night in Sebastian, you said it was a mistake. I saw you giving your number to Ryanne on the beach and thought there might be something there. Then you started hooking up with Dave.” He shakes his head and facepalms. “What a mess.”

I cannot believe we were both struggling with the same exact thing, in silence, for so long. In fact, I’m a little bitter. The whole Dave fiasco could have been avoided if we’d just manned up.

“So, what do we do now?” I ask him.

“I don’t know. I still don’t want to screw this up.” He lifts his eyes to stare at me, and my gaze drifts to his mouth, thinking about how long I’ve wanted to kiss those lips, how many girls have straddled his lap, draped over him like a flesh Snuggie, how badly I’ve wanted that permission to touch him myself.

“Maybe the reality won’t match up to the fantasy,” I tell him. “Then we could just, you know, move on.”

“You think we should test it?” Chris asks in a deep, gruff voice.

I scoot toward him so I’m kneeling in front of him with my knees spread wide. I reach down and cup his face in my hands while leaning in. Our mouths knock together somewhat awkwardly. His top teeth scrape against my bottom lip. I don’t think he was expecting my advance. Instead of pulling away, Chris grips the back of my head so it’s solidly in his grasp. Our mouths meet again, softly this time. I part my lips a little and his tongue slides across my own, like licking an ice cream cone, then curls inside my mouth. Chris’s tongue is inside my mouth. My brain shoots off a string of fireworks, and I force myself to relax and let him show me what to do. My hands migrate to the back of his neck, where my fingers get tangled in the soft curls of his hair. I forget for a minute that it’s Chris and think Wow, he’s a good kisser, then wonder if I’m moving my tongue at the right speed or opening my mouth wide enough, if I’m being too slobbery or eager.

Just shut up and enjoy it.

“Come here.” Chris shifts so he’s on his knees with our chests pressed together. His body radiates heat and his chest so fits nicely against my own. My mouth opens wider as our tongues find their groove, making sweet, sucking noises as we kiss. It could be only seconds or several minutes—I lose track of time and my thoughts drift away. There’s only room for the soft press of Chris’s lips against mine, the slow give and take of our tongues as they become better acquainted, and the flame of desire he ignites in my belly.

The rest of me gets all gooey and bendy except for my lone soldier, at full attention and nudging Chris’s thigh somewhat obscenely.

Chris pushes me back roughly, and I think it might be to make me stop, but then my back is flat on the carpet and he’s on top of me, grinding against me. His hands grip my wrists so they’re pinned above my head, his mouth mashed with mine while he makes his little humming noises. He positions himself so his hips are between my thighs, and I spread my legs wider to make room for him.

“Unghh.” I mutter something unintelligible and arch my back as my cock strains painfully against him like an arrow seeking release. Chris’s mouth latches on to my neck while he props himself on either side of me on his elbows like he’s doing push-ups, still thrusting against me.

“Take it off,” he orders and backs off for a moment. I can only assume he means my clothes. I rip off my shirt like Superman, and Chris does the same. His physique is decidedly more in the vein of an actual superhero. I almost come right then at the sight of him, his broad tanned chest and pink, rubbery nipples, his smell flooding my senses like a tantalizing mist. “Everything,” he commands, “take everything off.”