Evan’s acting weird. Okay, maybe I’m acting weird too. I could deal if one of us was freaking out, but now both of us are, it’s driving me mad. I’m trying to keep calm. I kiss dudes all the time. It’s what I do. But with Evan… That’s something different. The way he made me feel was not what I’m used to.
Kennedy is in her meddling era, meaning that she’s doing just about anything to make me spend more time with Evan than necessary. She doesn’t know about the kiss, but for some reason I’m convinced she’s telepathically been able to figure me out. After our very awkward goodbye after the kiss, he practically bolted out of my house, and I haven’t seen him since then.
Now, I’m sitting on an air mattress between Wren, Miles, and Kennedy on top of a tarp outside while we watch a show on the makeshift projector Miles bought for their backyard.
Kennedy planned yet another hang out session and Miles has been dying to try out the projector that Wren got him for his birthday. Xavier is sitting in front of us, lying on his stomach and Evan is next to him, off in the corner like a little hermit.
Why is he avoiding me like a fucking disease as if he isn’t the one that kissed me? Okay, maybe I had sort-of, kinda, definitely asked for it, but still. He shouldn’t be the one who’s embarrassed. It was a moment of weakness. We were in my room, he was wearing that fucking suit, looking angry and sexy at the same time, while I just looked like my usual gorgeous self. The amount of angry and sexual tension running through us finally burst into flames. It was bound to happen.
It was the best kiss of my life. That is what pisses me off the most. He shouldn’t be allowed to make me feel like that. He shouldn’t make me feel like I want more of him. So much fucking more.
I can still taste him. I can still feel him.
I should be the one that’s embarrassed. Especially after the dirty dream I had about him last night. That kiss has been all I’ve thought about for the last three nights. All I could imagine was him on top of me, his weight pressing into me, calling me a good girl, his face buried between my legs as I panted his name. I had to fuck myself with a toy to relieve the tension. I hate that I did that. Especially while thinking about him.
“How was your date?” Kennedy asks as the last episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine transitions into a new one. She’s at it again. Great. The date. Right. I almost forgot. It feels like everything that happened before that kiss doesn’t even exist anymore. As if he completely brought me alive from just one touch.
“Terrible,” he says. He turns around then, and I glare at him. “I thought we were-”
“It was fine,” I amend, cutting him off. Kennedy nods, throwing popcorn into her mouth. I know she’s not going to let me live it down. Telling either of them about the kiss would only prove their points and I am still so unsure as to what I want. All I know for certain is that I want to touch him again, in whatever way.
I need to feel him, and I need him to feel me.
Evan
I’ve not slept in three days.
Kissing Scarlett was a bad fucking idea. Not because it was a bad kiss. Not because of everything that’s going on with her family and my family’s pressure, but the fact that I enjoyed it so much that I want more. And more. And more.
My dad has been texting me non-stop, and calling me since then, asking for more updates. I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell him. I’ve started to get real feelings for this girl and she’s still unsure whether or not to trust her uncle or the Gerard dude. My money is still on her dad and Gio being involved in it. Sure, Gerard is sketchy, but what real motives would he have to want to take down Voss?
I couldn’t focus on that anyway. Not after feeling her body pressed against mine. The noises she made when I touched her. How responsive she was to every light brush of my mouth on her neck, my fingers in her hair, my hand over her breast, pinching her nipple, the way my cock swelled at the moan that left her mouth.
I’ve spent the last few days thinking about her and only her and it’s been absolute torture. It’s a problem, I know. But it’s not like my other obsessions or compulsions. This is something more.
She could have regretted it. She could have run to the bathroom, scrubbed her mouth clean to get rid of the taste of me. For someone who likes to run her mouth all the time, she doesn’t exactly talk much about her feelings and it’s driving me fucking crazy.
I try not to look at her while we watch the show, but it’s hard not to. Everyone’s wearing comfortable clothes today and seeing her in those baggy sweatpants, a crop top, her hair tied into a messy bun is not helping the thousands of thoughts running through my brain.
I steal glances at her while she watches the sitcom, snuggled between her friends. Her face is a little red and I can tell she’s forcing herself not to look at me. She’s twisting the ribbon around her wrists. Maybe she’s nervous too.
God, I hope she’s nervous too. It’ll make me feel better about this.
* * *
I’m actually so engrossed in the show that I don’t notice that it starts to rain. Hard. We’re covered by a plastic sheet on top of the waterproof gazebo, but the rain picks up and the roof starts to dip.
Miles jumps out of his seat, screaming expletives and Wren laughs at him as we all stand up, starting to pack things away. Most of the food was finished anyway, so I shove it into a plastic bag.
“Shit,” Miles groans. “I only planned on getting one thing wet tonight and it wasn’t my PlayStation.”
Everyone laughs at his joke as he rushes to get his wires and other equipment that we weaved through the kitchen window. Kennedy and Xavier rush out after him, their hands full of whatever they could pick up. A roar of thunder and another downpour of rain shakes the gazebo as Wren picks up the blankets, almost tripping over as she runs inside.
“Everyone with devices, go in first,” Miles shouts, his voice almost drowning out in the rain. “Can you guys take down the gazebo? My mom will kill me if it gets ruined and beat down by the rain.”
“Sure,” Scarlett grumbles. I turn and it’s just us two now, staring at each other. She rolls her eyes at me before walking through the gazebo. “You do that one. I’ll do this one.”
I move to the outside of it, instantly getting drenched with rain as I fumble to unpeg it. Why are we constantly getting caught in storms? The universe must be playing tricks on us. It’s hard to sort out the gazebo when the rain is making everything slippery and I’m already on edge as it is.
I’m still detangling the first peg when Scarlett comes around to my side. “You’re doing it wrong,” she chides.
“Do you want to do it, Angel?” I ask, looking up at her while the rain streams down my face like tears.
She rolls her eyes before bending down, slightly pushing me to the side as she unhooks it with ease. As she moves to the other one, I start packing up the other sticks into the bag they came in. She finishes it in a few seconds, and we silently work together to fold it up and shove it back into the bag.
sling the bag over my shoulder, running across the grass to the backdoor. I’m careful up the steps, glancing back at Scarlett making sure she doesn’t fall. I sigh when she gets to me unscathed, and I jiggle the handle. It’s locked. Of course, it’s locked because God likes to test us more and more every day.
I turn to her and she’s staring up at me, her eyes wide from a step below me. “It’s locked,” I tell her.
“This is your house too. Don’t you have a key?” she asks. I check my pockets and come up empty. I never use the backdoor anyways. She sighs, turning her back to me as she sits down on the step. “Of course, you don’t have a key.”
“Of course, it’s your friend that’s probably behind the reason we’re locked out here,” I say. Kennedy is sneaky. She has been since the day I met her, subtly trying to push me and Scarlett together. I pull out my phone to call Miles and it goes straight to voicemail. The same with Xavier.
“She becomes a Swiftie and suddenly she thinks she’s a mastermind,” she mutters. I have no idea what that means.
She looks up at me then, the rain soaking her face as she pulls her knees to her chest. I take a seat next to her, throwing the bag onto the ground. She rests her head on her arms across the top of her knees. She whispers, “We’re messing everything up, Branson.”
♫ The Beautiful Dream – George Ezra
Apart from when she cried in the museum, this is the most vulnerable I’ve ever seen her since then. She looks tired. Exhausted, actually. As if keeping this game is as tiring as it is for me.
She groans. “I mean you’re distracting me. You’re making me forget about what’s important. My family. I don’t want this to complicate things.”
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. Scarlett has always held her cards close to her chest. She’s never tried to let me in, but something has shifted between us. I want us to have better communication. To actually tell each other how we feel. We wasted so many days denying and ignoring it. I want it to keep going. To see how this plays out. I want her to fight me. To fight with me. I want anything she’s willing to give me at this point.
“So, you’re admitting there’s a ‘this?’” She turns to me.
“I’m admitting there’s a something,” she replies, rolling her eyes as if the thought is stupid. I’m full-on grinning now. God only knows how badly I want this girl. “Neither of us are stupid. There’s been sexual tension between us for years. We tried to ignore it, but…God, you’ve been making it really fucking difficult recently.”
I watch her take a survey of my outfit. My white cotton shirt is sticking to my chest. My hair is flopping in my forehead, heavy and wet with rain.
“Only you would try and blame me for finding me attractive,” I say, pushing a hand through my hair for extra emphasis. She groans, flickering her eyes to mine, studying me.
She barks out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re ridiculous, Branson. That’s why I don’t get it.”
“Get what?” I ask, tilting my head.
“That I want to slap you as much as I want to make out with you,” she admits. Her admission shocks me a little and I blink at her. She doesn’t seem embarrassed about what she wants. Sometimes, when we’re alone I think she puts all of her trust right into the palm of my hand, silently begging me to believe her.
“You can do whatever you want to me, Scarlett.”
“That’s a little terrifying,” she laughs.
“You’re a little terrifying,” I mutter.
She fists my shirt, pulling me into her and she crashes her mouth to mine. Is this a dream? I’m kissing Scarlett Voss in the rain and she’s kissing me back.
Her lips are so soft and careful at first, as if she’s testing how it feels. I let her take her time, waiting until she’s comfortable until she gives me everything.
Her tongue slips into my warm mouth and I groan happily, loving the taste of her. She tastes like that feeling you get when you just fall asleep. Just peace. Only she’s not peace. She’s a fucking hurricane and she knows it.
I need more of her, and I don’t know how to get it. My hands find their way in her hair, pulling and twisting as most of her hair falls out of her bun. As I do, she smiles against my mouth.
She fucking smiles.
I try to get closer to her, try to get anything she’ll give me, but it’s hard to do. Her hands have now found their way in my hair as she tugs onto it greedily. I let her. It’s hard to move when we’re just angrily, hornily, sweetly kissing each other. It’s a confusing combination. Everything about her feels so soft, she looks like a fucking daydream, but she makes me feel like I’m on fire.
“Jesus,” she mutters into my mouth. “It shouldn’t feel this good.”
“But it does,” I reply, kissing her deeply until all my thoughts become her.
Finally, I push back slightly onto the step, my back digging into the stone and she uses the opportunity to climb into my lap. She sits on me perfectly, our bodies practically moulding together.
I run my hands up and down her back, loving the way her body sags against mine, her tits pressing into my chest. My head lolls back as she kisses and sucks on my neck. I’ve not been this close to another girl in months and it’s fucking up my insides. She bites me softly and when I groan with pleasure, she bites me again. Harder.
“Fuck, Angel,” I say, basically whimpering. Then she bites me again as she starts to kiss across the base of my throat.
‘You good? Sounds like you want me to stop,’ she murmurs, her voice low and so insanely sexy.
‘No,’ I breathe out and she rolls her hips against me again. ‘Don’t fucking stop.’
As I’m hard as a fucking rock in my jeans when her lips start to travel down my neck and my hands move down to her ass, I realise that I don’t just want her sometimes. I want her all the time.
I want her to angrily kiss me like this whenever she wants. I don’t want to keep lying to her about why we became closer. Why I wanted to help her. Even if it started to become more than just helping my family, I want her to know the truth.
“Listen,” I say. Instantly groaning as she grinds herself against my crotch. That feels too good. Too much. If I’m not careful, I could finish like this. She starts to move across my jaw, one of her hands holding the other side of my face, carefully like she’s trying not to break me. “I have something I need to tell you.”
“Right now?” she asks, rolling over me again and I hiss. “I’m kinda busy.”
I’m interrupted by the loud buzzing of her phone against my hand in her back pocket. I pull it out for her, and it’s covered in rain splashes. I hand it to her, and she rolls her eyes at the contact.
“It’s Gio,” she explains. She tries to climb off me, but I wrap my arms around her back, keeping her close to me. Needing her close. She swipes the call button and answers it, holding it against her ear. “Gio. Cosa sta succedendo?”
She asks him what’s going on, but it’s hard to hear what he’s saying over the sound of the rain. She mumbles something back to him, her eyes widening with terror. My grip tightens on her back, trying to comfort her although I’m not sure what for. After a few seconds, she ends the call, standing up off me and heads towards the door banging on it.
“Kennedy, I swear to God, you better open this fucking door right now,” she shouts. I flinch at her biting tone. I stand up, turning to her, I place my hand on the small of her back. “We need to go,” she whispers. “Like, now.”
“Hey, what’s going on?” I ask.
“Gio said we need to meet him downtown. He thinks he’s got something tying someone to Tinzin,” she explains.
“Shouldn’t we go to the police? What if it’s dangerous?”
“Evan, he’s my uncle. If he says he needs me, I’m going to be there,” she challenges.
“Okay,” I say, nodding. She looks at me curiously, trying to make sure I’m okay with this. If anything happened to her, I’d never forgive myself. “Okay,” I say again.
