Morning comes quickly and early, as it always does out here. Late fall or not, the sun beams against the mesh of tents, demanding your eyes open to appreciate the space around you.
Thankfully, last night wasn’t too late of one and that’s because pretty much every single person here plays on the team—minus the girls—so they were barely hanging on when they first arrived. The mountains, though, always offer a second wind, which they ate up, only to crash twice as hard once their buzzes wore down.
“Thank god Brady is smart and only put out half the beer last night.” Cameron yawns, flicking on the generator.
“You mean thankfully he learned from experience to hide alcohol or be ready for a sober night two?” I laugh, arranging a few logs into the dead firepit.
“That is exactly what I mean.”
Cameron gets the coffee going while I take an empty Corona box over to the pile of brush, scooping some up and tossing it over the logs to help kickstart it.
“Smart.”
I look up and over my shoulder, smiling at Noah. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He grins, looking around and coming back with the long-wicked lighter.
He crouches beside me, but hands it over, and I glide it beneath the brush, between the logs.
“Camp a lot, huh?” He watches.
“Four or five times a year, yeah. More if you count all the times we put up a tent on the sand at the beach house,” I share. “It was always funny when we’d head to the mountains because my dad would have me help him collect wood or climb the ladder to hang the towel line while Mason would be cracking eggs for my mom or helping her peel potatoes.” I pause, chuckling as I look at Noah. “Now that I think about it, they were probably afraid I’d somehow burn the forest down if I helped with the cooking.”
Pushing to his feet, he tugs me with him. “Good thing you’re learning your way around a stove then, huh?”
“Fantastic thing.” I go for the dramatics, fluttering my lashes.
Noah shakes his head with a grin, and heads for Cam. “Can I help?”
“You can.” She pushes him a few feet left, dropping a couple of Ziploc bags of already cut potatoes in front of him. “Toss them in some oil and—”
“Season them?” he cuts her off.
Cameron smiles, digging the creamer out of the ice chest. “I forgot. Bobby Flay is boning my bestie.”
“Cameron!” I laugh, and while Noah’s doesn’t reach my ears, his shoulders shake slightly, giving him away.
“Sorry, I meant dreaming of boning my bestie. Better?”
“Oh my god.” I cover my face.
“I bet that’s exactly what you’ll say.”
This time, Noah’s head falls back with his laugh and all I can do is flip her off when she turns my way. The only reason I don’t cuss her out is because she’s bringing me a Styrofoam cup of steaming coffee.
“Asshole,” I whisper.
“Love you, too.” She does not whisper.
A tent’s zipper opening sounds around us and a few stragglers tumble out with wild hair and sleepy eyes, the smell of hot coffee likely the only reason they didn’t roll back over.
“Noah, my man,” a big, burly guy steps up, snagging a water from one of the ice chests. “You a jack-of-all-trades, or what?”
“He is, Georgie,” Cameron calls him by what must be his name. “The C isn’t only for captain. It’s for capable cook and considerable—”
“Cameron!” I warn and then large arms are around me.
I look up to find Brady.
He kisses my hair and finishes Cameron’s sentence like the shithead he is. “Cock.”
“Don’t encourage her.”
“I’m just speaking truths, Ari Baby. I’ve seen it in the showers,” he teases, laughing when Noah’s head snaps our way.
“That’s it, Lancaster, you’re last to hit the locker room,” Noah jokes.
“I’m good with that, brother. I love to be the last thing them reporter girls see. Makes it easier to remind them who I am when they show up ready to party later that night.”
I roll my eyes, saying hello to the guys who start to pile around the morning fire.
A few others fire up grills of their own, some passing off breakfast items to Cameron and Noah to contribute to the meal they’ve got going.
Chase and Mason emerge from their tents then, and neither climb out alone.
A small frown builds along my brow before I can help it, and I look away, confused by the numbness the sight offers.
Facing the fire, I taking small sips of my coffee, and Mason squeezes his chair between me and a guy named Hector. My brother drops his head back, giving me a pouty lip.
My sigh is playful as I climb to my feet.
Noah’s eyes flick my way, watching as I grab two cups, filling them with coffee, one with a splash of creamer, the other with a spoonful of sugar. I toss a grape at him, and he grins, going back to mixing pancake batter.
I move toward Mason, passing his off first before walking over to where Chase sits on Brady’s tailgate. He runs his fingers through his brown hair, nodding at something the guy to his right says.
As I approach, he looks up, and a grin pulls at his lips. “A spoonful of sugar…”
“Helps the nasty shit go down,” I finish his sentence, and he chuckles, slowly taking it from my hands. “Thanks, gorgeous.”
I freeze a moment, but quickly force a tight smile as I turn away. “Yep.”
With slow-paced steps, I find my cup and retake my seat, not looking up from the fire again after that, so as soon as Cameron announces the food is ready, I pop up, eager to help get paper products set up for everyone. Standing at the backside of the table, I adjust the trays as people shuffle down the length of it, loading their plates. I figure I’ll wait until everyone else is settled before I snag my own, but then Noah’s arms are coming around me from behind, and a plate is held out in front of me, the stack of mini pancakes steaming and fresh off the grill.
I peer up at him and he nods toward the plate, pressing into me slightly to grab a fork from beside me. He stabs it into the top one and leaves the fork there for me to grab.
“Taste.”
I do as he says, not taking my eyes off his as I bring it to my lips for a bite. The buttermilk flavor hits my tastebuds, and they come alive when a hint of something sweet follows.
My expression must give away my mouthgasm, because he grins.
“If you add a little shake of brown sugar into the batter, you don’t have to drown it with syrup.”
“Maybe I like to drown it with syrup.”
“Says the girl who likes her pot pies nice and flaky, her chicken breaded, and her cornbread with a crisp.”
I laugh, my hand coming up to cover the large bite I’ve yet to swallow. “Okay, fine. You’re right, I hate soggy food.”
“I know.”
“Just like you know you’ve hit the spot yet again. So good.”
“Good. Maybe we’ll have to add a breakfast into our menu somewhere.”
I spin, whispering, “Would this be a breakfast for dinner kind of thing or…”
His smirk is slow. “Or…”
I swat him in the chest. “Don’t make me say it.”
He chuckles and turns to help Cam when she calls him over to the stove.
After eating, everyone hangs around and chats until some people head back in their tents for a nap while the rest of us play a couple games of cards, as another handful of guys begin tossing the football around.
We spend a few hours out on a hike, showing everyone the rock pathways and the small bridge that leads to the opposite side of the mountain.
The rest of the day plays out the same, and only when the sun begins to set, Mason now on the grill, do I bend down behind Noah, who sits sipping on a beer and chatting to a group of guys.
I bring my lips to his ear, so only he can hear. “There’s a path I purposely avoided today.”
Noah tips his head a little, so he can see me, and I drape one arm over him, my fingers tapping along his chest.
“Oh, yeah?” he drawls quietly, his hand coming up to grab mine.
“Mm-hm.” I nod, pressing my forehead to his temple. “What do you say, you up for a little walk in the dark?”
Noah answers by setting his water bottle down and pushing to his feet. He slips his hand in mine, and I smile, leading our way.
We curl around the campsite, dropping lower into the trees, and weave around a small trail of rocks. Large bushes block the view, but as we get a little farther, pushing past the thin branches, there it is.
The waterfall, leading into a small pool of water, rock walls curling from left to right, closing it off from everything around it.
“Man,” Noah says, and I nod, moving closer.
This being the only area around not overlaid with treetops, the stars are visible, creating a glow around us, allowing us to trust our eyes among the darkness.
I slip my shoes and socks off, dipping my toes in the water. It’s cold, but not nearly as cold as the ocean, since we’ve only just come off of summer. A moment later, Noah’s at my side.
He steps in a little farther. “I was expecting it to be freezing.”
“Not so bad, huh?” I grin, and when he faces away, I shove him a bit, but he’s a quarterback and quick on his feet.
No more than his ankle dips in before he’s circled me completely, now positioned at my back with his arms locked tightly around my abdomen.
“What was that Ms. Johnson?” He smiles against my ear. “Your way of telling me you want to go for a swim?”
I tense, squirming in his hold as he inches me forward. “No, no, no!” I laugh. “Hell no.”
“But I thought you loved the water?” he teases.
I squeal, my calves now wet. “Oh my god, Noah, I can’t!”
“Why not?”
I push into him, trying to find some ground to use as leverage. “I don’t do water where I can’t see the bottom!”
He buries his face in my neck, and my muscles settle the slightest bit. “What if your feet don’t touch the ground?”
“What—”
Noah spins me, bends and lifts me up. In the next second, we’re waist-deep in the chilled water, clothes and all.
I scream with a laugh, hiding my eyes in his chest, my arms and legs clenching around him. Something brushes my thigh and I scream again, holding on impossibly tight.
“You are so dead. Wait until I get you in the ocean. I’m sticking crabs down your trunks!”
His soft chuckle wafts over my skin, his arms gliding along my back and keeping me close. “I’ve got you.”
“You better.”
His lips curve against my neck, and then they press there. Lightly at first but growing firmer by the second.
My legs tighten around him, my toes curling behind his back as he sucks the sensitive skin there, and just like that, the dark waters are forgotten.
My head lifts, and it’s only a moment before his follows.
His eyes, a deep midnight blue tonight, are teeming with desire, and behind that, a hopeful tenderness that reaches deep within me.
I feel it too, the invisible pull from my body to his.
My mind to his.
My heart to his?
I lean forward, taking his lips with my own.
He kisses me back with the same vigor. Our tongues tying, our deep, full breaths turning to quick, short pants, and my body begins to roll.
Noah groans, lifting us a few inches out of the water as he fights to bring us closer, his eagerness in line with my own.
“Careful, Juliet,” he warns, steeling my hips with his large, firm hands. “I’m about to lose my gentleman’s card here.”
“Could you hurry up with that?”
He chuckles into my mouth, and I push my tongue inside his, swallowing the rumble that follows. He whips us around, splashing through the water until we’re at the edge of a rock. He presses my ass against it, his hands leaving my body so he can grab hold of my cheeks, making me dizzy with his kiss.
I lean back, taking him with me, and then something glides along the bottom of my foot, and I squeal, jumping backward.
Noah tears back, eyes wide and flying across my face
“Oh my god, a fish is trying to eat me!” I yelp, scurrying farther up the rock, and as I plant my hand down once more, something tickles the tips of my knuckles. I yelp again, jumping down, only to sink up to my neck.
Noah starts busting up laughing, turns, and hauls me up on his back as he takes us to the edge.
It’s only seconds before I’m laughing uncontrollably, and as we hit the cold, dry ground, I drop back onto a tree log, my face falling into my hands.
“Ugh!” I can’t simmer myself down and Noah’s as entertained as I am. “I swear a fish sucked my toe!”
He rubs his mouth to quiet his laughter. “And your hand?”
“Okay, that might have been a leaf or something.” His head falls back with laughter. “In the moment, I was positive it was the loch ness monster!” I grin, shaking my head.
“She swims in shark waters with ease, but a tiny tadpole? Forget about it.”
I scowl at him playfully, and a small chill runs over me, the mountain breeze having rolled up over the rocks.
“We should head back, get changed.” Noah slips his shoes on, stuffing his socks into his pockets, and picks up mine.
He spins again, reaching over his shoulder for my hand, so I stand, giving it to him. Once again, he hauls me onto his back and carries me all the way back to camp.
As we step into the clearing, a few people glance our way.
“What in the actual hell?” Brady shouts, his beer frozen at his lips.
“We fell in a pond,” I joke.
“Uh-huh, vagina first or what?” He pops a brow.
Mason slaps the back of his head. “What the fuck, bro?” He glares from him to us, but Brady simply laughs and goes back to his conversation.
Mason’s glare deepens, but I too look away, and Noah keeps moving toward the row of tents.
“Cameron is going to kill me if I get our beds wet.” I grin, tightening my hold around his neck.
“Wanna change in my truck? It’s blocked by Brady’s.” He stops walking, glancing over his shoulder. “We can walk back, ask her to get you some clothes really fast?”
My teeth clatter. “Okay.”
Despite my response, Noah keeps moving straight, his pace picked up a little more. Thirty seconds later, I’m sitting on his tailgate and he’s tearing into the cab of his truck, coming back with a pile of clothes in his hands.
“These are compression pants. I wear them under my gear when it’s cold. They might be a little loose, but they’ll fit you better than my sweats.” He sets a T-shirt and hoodie beside me, a pile of dry clothes for himself bunched under his arm.
He pushes his shoes to the side, doing a double take when I lift my arms and wait.
His brows draw together slightly, the items in his arms quickly forgotten. He lets them fall to the ground and steps toward me.
He starts at the cuff of my sleeves, gently tugging them over my wrists, and moves to the hem next. The wet material has molded to my T-shirt beneath it, so as he slowly lifts it up and over my head, it takes it with it.
My wet hair falls to my bare back then, sending a shiver down my spine, or maybe it’s the beaming approval in Noah’s gaze that does it. He doesn’t look away as he hangs my wet items over the side of his truck, nor when I lean back, my palms pressing into the tailgate, my torso stretching.
He understands, his jaw flexing with his heavy inhale as his hands find the button of my jeans.
My pulse pounds as it’s popped open, the soft hum of my zipper creating goosebumps along my legs. He waits, eyes on me, so I lift my hips in request, and he answers, cautiously freeing me of them altogether.
His arms fall to his sides, his body going still as he peers at me, his expression a pensive mix of uncertainty and conviction.
I push up into a sitting position, scooting closer to the edge once more, and grab a handful of his soiled sweatshirt. My legs part, and he steps in until his thighs meet the cool metal. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move, other than the way my freeing him of his clothes requires.
My lungs swell as his body comes into view, his chest on full display for me for the very first time. Even on the beach, he wore a shirt that hid it.
“You should take your shirt off more often.” My breath is a throaty, desire-filled mess, and I’m pleased when his chuckle sounds just the same.
My eyes fly straight for the tattoo I’ve admittedly fantasized about.
I wondered how it would curve, what it would hold and how far it reached, but seeing it along his skin is like nothing I could have cooked up.
It’s fascinating, dark and defined.
It spans from his upper arm and stretches along his left peck. There’s a goal line, and a football that looks as if it’s tearing through from inside his skin, but it’s the script curved along the threading of the ball that calls to me. It’s foreign, Latin maybe, and beautifully scrolled.
“What does this mean?” I wonder, hesitantly lowering the pads of my fingers to his skin, tracing over the words in slow motion.
“Can’t tell you.” He shivers, and my lips twitch, my palms flattening over him as I lean closer.
“Can’t or won’t?” I peek up at him as I press my lips to his chest, scooting more to the edge so I can skate them higher.
I glide along his collarbone, to his neck, pausing when I reach his ear. I take a deep breath and Noah’s forehead falls to my shoulder, his hands finding the space at my sides.
I don’t say anything, just breathe against him as my touch dares to go lower. I trace the ridges of his abs, getting acquainted with every cut of his masterfully constructed muscles.
He’s hard in all the right places, and I’d bet if I went lower, I’d find him hard there too.
I can sense it in the way his abdomen clenches, in the short puffs breaking along my bare chest.
My nipples harden in my bra and now I’m the one shivering.
That gains Noah’s attention, and his head lifts, the heat in his eyes almost unbearable. “It’s getting colder.”
“I don’t feel cold.”
His nostrils flare, and he dips down, gripping my hair in his hands and twisting it over his fist, water dripping down his forearm and splattering onto my spine. I jolt forward, and Noah twists to catch my lips with his own. He kisses me hard this time. It’s almost in punishment, and completely fucking addicting.
“It’ll be my fault if you get sick.” He speaks between swipes of his tongue. “I can’t have that.” He reaches for the hoodie beside us, the one he brought out for me, but I dart my hand over his to pause his movements and snag the one he intends to wear first.
He gives a small warning glare, but when my husky chuckle follows, his need to know what comes next has him relenting. With a tight frown, he allows me to pull his over him.
He quickly shoves his arms inside, swiping mine up and preparing to do the same, but I drop my palms onto the tailgate once more, and begin scooting backward. I don’t stop until my fingers scratch against the nylon of his tent.
His brows dip low as I blindly find the zipper, my hand gliding along until it’s over my head, the opening falling against my back.
Noah’s jaw ticks as he kicks out of his wet bottoms, quickly stepping into his dry pair. He fists the clothes he has for me and then he’s crawling over me, with me, as I guide us into his tent completely.
Still slightly uncertain, he’s slow to close us inside, and I want to erase his hesitation that I know only stems from his concern for me, because I somehow feel none.
I’m not embarrassed, unsure or anxious.
I don’t have that twist in my gut that’s warning me away as if afraid he’ll push me away.
He would never.
Looking at him, into his blue eyes, my mind isn’t muddled.
It’s calling his name.
There’s something about Noah that frees me. With a single look or unspoken notion, he settles parts of me I don’t know need settling, and while I don’t fully understand it yet, I know I want to.
And right now, I want to get to know him a little better. A little… differently.
I fall back onto his pillow, and he follows. While his body hovers over mine, no part of our skin is touching, but the heat of him is present, and a ripple of anticipation works its way through me.
“What are you doing, Juliet?” he murmurs, his eyes falling to my breasts, half spilling over, free from my wet bra.
Tension knots inside me, creating an ache in my chest, and instead of answering with words, I slip a hand behind my back, and unclasp it, but I don’t take it off. I pull my hand out, letting him decide what to do next.
Noah shifts his weight to one side, his knuckles coming up to glide along my shoulder, as his finger hooks under my strap.
“You want me to touch you?” He slides lower.
A small moan works its way up my throat, and Noah pulls the garment from my body, my hands coming back down to grip the sleeping bag beneath me.
My breasts are bared to him, and he takes his time raking his gaze over every inch of me, his attention serving as a heated caress, as do the slow, deliberate exhales fanning along my skin.
His mouth meets my breastbone then and I pull in a harsh breath.
“Tell me where.” His command is gentle, and my nipples turn to sharp points.
My body heats, skin flushing, and Noah peeks at me through his full, dark lashes.
My lips part and his pull to one side.
“There it is,” he rasps. “That’s what I was waiting for. The blush.” His touch creates a fiery path up my stomach and doesn’t stop there. It trails higher, until his hand is gently stretched along my throat. I swallow against him and his fingers twitch in response.
His eyes snap to mine, and he repeats himself. “Tell me where.”
I play our game. “You already know the answer to that.”
“But…” He bites at my stomach, and I squirm.
But he wants me to say it.
Empowered by his mischievous way, I do him one better.
I guide his hand down my torso, in an unhurried fashion, and I don’t stop the tips of his fingers dipping beneath the hem of my underwear.
That’s where I leave him, because while I might not know Noah in this way… I know Noah.
His eyes snap to mine, narrowing, and I can’t suppress the giggle working its way up my throat.
“There.”
His features flash with praise and with that one look, the spark in my core grows to a full-fledged flame. He knows it and fuels the fire, his mouth coming down on my right nipple, clamping over me in retaliation. His lips begin to vibrate, and I squirm.
My legs come up, rubbing together in an attempt to ease the ache, and the move has his hand slipping farther south. That does it.
Noah drives his touch lower, his fingers coming together so he doesn’t miss a single sliver of skin on his way down. He cups me first, applying a teasing amount of pressure with his palm.
My eyes close, his tongue now swirling around my hard peaks as he pushes up onto his knees. He drags his wet lips across my skin, giving equal attention to my left nipple.
His hand skates lower, his chest rumbling as the tip of his pointer finger meets my slit.
“Fuck,” he croaks. “Open.”
My legs fall instantly.
His touch is hot and strong. I need—
His mouth crashes mine, cutting off my thoughts, yet answering it as he rasps, “I’m about to feel you. I’m gonna find out how warm you are, how soft…”
No sooner than he says it, he’s there, pushing into me with slow precision.
My moan is instant.
“So fucking soft.” He bites my lip. “So wet.” My jaw.
When his hand retracts, my eyes fly open, my core straining from the loss, but then his finger disappears between his lips.
His eyes flare, and I nearly choke on air. “So fucking sweet.”
I need to come.
His mouth moves back to mine, and he whispers, “You’re about to.”
His fingers drive back inside, dipping in and out as his thumb presses at my clit, his lips playing like a rake against my body. He’s on my chest, my ribs.
He’s everywhere.
I need more.
I whimper, lifting my hips, willing him deeper, and my god, does Noah give me what I want.
He pushes in until the pressure of his hand is hard against my entrance.
“Kiss me,” I murmur, my eyes pinching shut. I moan again, blindly seeking out the warmth of his skin. My hands glide up his pecs, and I start to shake. “Now, Noah.”
He groans, giving me what I want, working my clit over and over, squeezing, pressing, and then holding as my body writhes beneath him, swallowing the sounds coming up from my throat. Sounds I’ve never heard myself make.
Sounds that drive him mad, creating fireworks between my legs.
Noah’s hand leaves me, but his kiss doesn’t.
It deepens, hardens until I cry into his mouth, and then it slows, as if in tune with my orgasm, as if he knew the high my body would reach, and the slow, sated come down it would bring me to.
That he would bring me to.
Noah lies down beside me, but I don’t open my eyes, not yet, and it’s only moments later that he begins playing with the wet strands of my hair.
The need to see him becomes too strong, and as if he senses the second I look at him, his eyes slowly lift to mine.
I blush like crazy and the man smirks, a low chuckle slipping from his swollen lips.
He sits up then, grabbing the long-forgotten clothes he brought me, and he tugs me into a sitting position, pulling the hoodie over my head. His fingers skim along my neck until he’s gathered all of my hair, and he frees it from the thick cotton.
“Should I help with these too?” he jokes, and I snag the bottoms he holds out for me.
“I mean, I don’t know. I still can’t feel my legs so…” I play along, not missing the grin he points at his feet as he slips on dry socks.
Noah climbs out of the tent to put his shoes on, and when I work my way out, zipping up the tent door, he’s coming back from the cab of his truck.
“Here.” He hands me a pair of long socks, and I pull them on over the ‘compression pants,’ which is nothing more than a fancy word for man leggings.
I slip my shoes on next and turn to face him.
His eyes flick over my body, cloaked in his clothes, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip. He yanks me to him, presses his lips to mine, but then tears them away before my hands have a chance to wrap around him.
“Come on, if I don’t get people around you—”
“If this ends with we’ll end up back in the tent … it’s crap for motivating me to move.”
Noah drops his head back, cursing into the air, and I laugh, squealing when he grabs my hand, tugging me toward camp.
When we reach the clearing, he grins at me, squeezing my hand before letting it go.
He cuts left for the ice chests and I head right for the fire, snagging a chair along the way. Cam sits at the edge of the group, circling the bonfire, so I take the empty space beside her.
She’s listening to whatever the boys around are saying, but when she glances my way, she does a double take and spins her entire body to face me. Her head cocks to one side, a single blonde brow lifting as she readies to speak, but her words freeze on her lips when a beer is lowered in front of me.
I drop my head back, looking up at Noah. “Why thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I forget to look away, and his water bottle comes up to hide the grin sneaking over his lips. He begins to walk off, and my gaze travels with him.
Cameron claws at my thighs, so I turn to her. Only then does she realize I’m swallowed by clothes that aren’t mine and my hair is a wet, soppy mess. “Bitch.” She grips the back of her chair, leaning closer. “Did you hump the humble hottie?” she hisses.
I smile, folding my legs up beneath me, and shake my head.
Her eyes narrow. “He played puppet with your puss, didn’t he?”
My head falls back, and I laugh into the air.
Her gasp has my head snapping in her direction again, and I nearly fall over when she yanks at the collar of my hoodie.
“You got a hickey from Kenickie,” she jokes, quoting Grease.
My hand flies to my neck, my fingertips pressing over the spot it must be, the memory of his lips replaying in my mind.
Peeking at Cam, I bring my beer to my lips, and my girl lifts her hands in a praising motion, holding hers out.
“Way to go, sister.”
A calming sense of happiness washes over me and I turn to my friend.
“Tell me all about the kids from your child development class.”
Cam beams, shifts as I had, and starts talking. We stay in our chairs for well over an hour, laughing and joking about everything and nothing.
A little while after that, Mason drops a chair beside us, joining in on our conversation, and of course, Brady and Chase follow as soon as they spot the three of us together.
We share some of the stories our parents have told us about their group trip overseas, since we’ve all gotten different ones, and make plans to spend Thanksgiving at the beach house with our cousin and friends.
Mason busts out the marshmallows, so Brady and I sharpen some sticks into clean points for roasting.
After eating my first one, I put on another, finding my favorite shade of blue across the bonfire.
Noah stares, his friends all around him, mine all around me.
Never taking my eyes off his, I let the treat hit the flame before bringing it to my mouth, but I don’t blow.
I let the blaze grow bolder, brighter.
I let the heat take over until it’s nothing but a ball of fire.
And in one quick breath, blow it out.
He’s too far for me to hear his chuckle, but I know it’s there.
He winks, and this time, I feel it in my soul.
