I bite my lip, trembling and not trusting myself to even open my mouth in that moment.
His hand reaches out to the curtain, but I don’t shriek and I don’t move as he slowly draws it back. He’s naked; hard and ready for me, with his eyes blazing as he drinks me in; “Tell me you weren’t thinking of me just now, and I’ll leave it, for good.” My heart is roaring and racing like a river as he steps into the shower. My arms are still haphazardly covering myself, but it’s almost like his mere presence has me dropping them slowly to my side, baring myself to him. His eyes roam over my water-dappled skin, over the pink points of my nipples, down my body as I blush.
He steps into the shower with me, his voice dark and low; “But if even one of those things isn’t true,” He steps even closer, his body practically touching mine as his hand reaches out to cup my chin and lift it towards his face. It’s everything I have not to whimper or moan right then at the feeling of his touch; at the feeling of that spark that lights the fire; “If even one of those things isn’t true, Peyton,” He whispers deeply, leaning closer; “Then there’s no fucking way I’m letting another Goddamn second pass by without kissing you.”
“Looks like a storm’s coming,” My brother grumbles, looking up at the dark clouds rolling down over the New York skyline in the distance. He cracks his knuckles loudly and I wrinkle my nose.
“Gross, Logan.” I hate when he does that.
“Sorry,” He grins. Quinn rolls her eyes at me as if to say “yeah, tell me about it” and leans back into him.
The smile that crosses my face isn’t altogether dissimilar from his, which makes sense considering we had the same mother. The thought makes me smile even more, watching him and his soon-to-be bride snuggle against each other in the cold of the March afternoon.
Yeah, cold, slushy and grey, with rain on the horizon; heck of a day for a ground-breaking ceremony.
But for once, things are actually good. I mean, everyone’s here in Long Island City for the start of construction on the new headquarters for the Archer World Health Foundation, and we’re all, well, good. Hell, my brother and Javier are even talking, which is sort of mind-blowing given the history there.
“Hey.”
Well, everything is basically good.
I turn, keeping my face the neutral stoney blankness I always do around him; “Hey.”
Bryce nods, his chiseled jaw and his piercing blue eyes about as neutrally stoic as mine. Silence descends between us. This is pretty much about the extent of our conversations over the last year; ever since-
Well, since we stopped all that.
“You know,” He arches an eyebrow at me, as if reading my thoughts; “Someday we may even have a real conversation again.”
I want to grin. I want to crack a smile because that’s just what he does to me. But I can’t do that. I have to stay stoic and cold; I have to let this die, no matter how long it fucking takes.
“Yep, someday.”
Bryce nods again, his bright blue eyes looking right into mine; so deep that I wonder if he can tell how much effort it’s taking for me to keep up the bitch attitude I’ve kept around him for the past year. He clears his throat; “So, where’s, uh, what’s-his-fuckin-name.”
Don’t take the bait, he’s baiting you. And of course, it’s working.
“Hugh couldn’t make it.” I say icily, my mouth small and my eyes narrowing at him. He grins; of course he grins.
“He wanted to, really, he just had something come up.” I am not telling Bryce about my breakup. For one, because I’m over it anyways, but also because it’s got nothing to do with him.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that. I've been through this a hundred freaking times in my head, and we're past this. What happened was a long, long time-
Ugh. I need to extract myself from this conversation.
Bryce makes a fake-pout face; “Aww, shame. I really wanted to meet the guy.”
“No you didn't.”
“No, I didn’t.”
I set my jaw; “I have to go,” I say, turning to push away from him.
“Yeah, I hear three feet from wherever I’m standing is the best spot.”
I feel his hand on my elbow, and I whirl around, quickly pulling my arm back; “People are watching, Bryce,” I say quietly, my eyes looking everywhere but his.
He rolls his eyes; “They’re watching a backhoe dig frozen dirt, and besides, we’re just talking.”