urge to run my fingers through her hair is so strong that I have to shove my hands in my pockets, or if we’re on the dunes, I have to put them beneath my thighs. And when we’re at my place? That’s the most difficult, because while we’re watching movies orsitting on the balcony overlooking the ocean, all I can think about is taking her into my bedroom. It’s really bad. If I knew she was a lesbian, I’d feel better, because I’d just do all those things I want to do. Not knowing is killing me.
Ugh . I hate this feeling.
I gaze at the sketch and move from her delicate eyebrows to the shading around her expressive eyes—the eyes that I nearlyfell into yesterday morning. I tell myself the same thing I’ve been telling myself all summer. The next time she looks at me like that, I’m just going to kiss her.
Give up my fear of her being straight and just do it.
I look up at the sound of a motorcycle and see Brent’s twin brother, Jesse, parking in front of the shop. He’s good friends with Delilah, too, and very protective of her.I imagine myself kissing her and Delilah pushing away, her green eyes wide and appalled. And then I imagine Jesse’s thick dark brows lowering into an angry slash.
Okay, so I won’t kiss her .
It was a stupid idea anyway. You don’t just kiss a girl, especially if you aren’t sure if she’s straight or not. Been there, done that. It’s an embarrassing situation that there’s no easy way out of,like asking a woman if she’s pregnant when she’s not.
“Hey, Ash. Is my brother around?” Jesse’s tall and broad with shoulder-length dark hair, several tattoos, and a well-manicured beard and mustache. Although he and Brent are twins, Jesse’s face is harder, his expressions more serious than Brent’s. Jesse also always wears jeans and boots, which I don’t understand given that he lives at thebeach. But then again, I don’t understand the leather band he wears around his thick wrist or the chain that hooks to his wallet, either.
“He was in the back when I came outside.” I notice a guy heading for the shop and tuck my sketch pad and pencil into my backpack. “I’ll go in with you.”
“Are you going to Brandon’s party tonight?” I ask as he pulls the door open.
Jesse’s dark eyesrun over the racks of clothing and surfboards lined up against the far wall and finally land on his equally tall and long-haired brother helping a customer in the back of the shop.
“I wouldn’t miss it. You?” He’s watching Brent intently as he asks.
“Absolutely. See you there.”
He’s already on the move toward his brother.
The guy I noticed outside comes into the shop talking onhis cell phone. He’s tall, with sun-streaked blond hair, lean and muscular, and walks with a definite surfer swagger. He shoves his phone in the pocket of his board shorts, and I do my job.
“Hi. Is there anything I can help you find?”
“Nah, just checking out the longboards and some clothes.” His eyes take a slow roll over me, and then he turns toward the boards.
It never really bothersme when guys check me out. I think it’s the whole long blond hair and fit body thing they’re attracted to. Guys are so cursory. It’s like they have a mental checklist that can be marked off in three seconds: A face that doesn’t require too many beers to look good, boobs, nice ass. Whereas with girls, at least with me, when I check a girl out, it goes much deeper than looks. The first thing Inotice is a girl’s eyes. Are they cold and wary or intense and seductive? I like them to be somewhere in the middle. Wary enough to be careful, but sexy in the right moments.
Like Delilah’s.
Gaaaahhhhh! Stop!
I’ve never been interested in guys. Never even kissed a guy. I do like to look, though, from an artistic perspective. Sometimes that gets me in trouble and guys think I’m checkingthem out, so I’ve learned to be discreet about it. I can’t help it if I find the human body fascinating.
Ugh . I hate this feeling.
I gaze at the sketch and move from her delicate eyebrows to the shading around her expressive eyes—the eyes that I nearlyfell into yesterday morning. I tell myself the same thing I’ve been telling myself all summer. The next time she looks at me like that, I’m just going to kiss her.
Give up my fear of her being straight and just do it.
I look up at the sound of a motorcycle and see Brent’s twin brother, Jesse, parking in front of the shop. He’s good friends with Delilah, too, and very protective of her.I imagine myself kissing her and Delilah pushing away, her green eyes wide and appalled. And then I imagine Jesse’s thick dark brows lowering into an angry slash.
Okay, so I won’t kiss her .
It was a stupid idea anyway. You don’t just kiss a girl, especially if you aren’t sure if she’s straight or not. Been there, done that. It’s an embarrassing situation that there’s no easy way out of,like asking a woman if she’s pregnant when she’s not.
“Hey, Ash. Is my brother around?” Jesse’s tall and broad with shoulder-length dark hair, several tattoos, and a well-manicured beard and mustache. Although he and Brent are twins, Jesse’s face is harder, his expressions more serious than Brent’s. Jesse also always wears jeans and boots, which I don’t understand given that he lives at thebeach. But then again, I don’t understand the leather band he wears around his thick wrist or the chain that hooks to his wallet, either.
“He was in the back when I came outside.” I notice a guy heading for the shop and tuck my sketch pad and pencil into my backpack. “I’ll go in with you.”
“Are you going to Brandon’s party tonight?” I ask as he pulls the door open.
Jesse’s dark eyesrun over the racks of clothing and surfboards lined up against the far wall and finally land on his equally tall and long-haired brother helping a customer in the back of the shop.
“I wouldn’t miss it. You?” He’s watching Brent intently as he asks.
“Absolutely. See you there.”
He’s already on the move toward his brother.
The guy I noticed outside comes into the shop talking onhis cell phone. He’s tall, with sun-streaked blond hair, lean and muscular, and walks with a definite surfer swagger. He shoves his phone in the pocket of his board shorts, and I do my job.
“Hi. Is there anything I can help you find?”
“Nah, just checking out the longboards and some clothes.” His eyes take a slow roll over me, and then he turns toward the boards.
It never really bothersme when guys check me out. I think it’s the whole long blond hair and fit body thing they’re attracted to. Guys are so cursory. It’s like they have a mental checklist that can be marked off in three seconds: A face that doesn’t require too many beers to look good, boobs, nice ass. Whereas with girls, at least with me, when I check a girl out, it goes much deeper than looks. The first thing Inotice is a girl’s eyes. Are they cold and wary or intense and seductive? I like them to be somewhere in the middle. Wary enough to be careful, but sexy in the right moments.
Like Delilah’s.
Gaaaahhhhh! Stop!
I’ve never been interested in guys. Never even kissed a guy. I do like to look, though, from an artistic perspective. Sometimes that gets me in trouble and guys think I’m checkingthem out, so I’ve learned to be discreet about it. I can’t help it if I find the human body fascinating.
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