checking him out. It had never occurred to me before that moment that I thought of James as anything more than a friend, my brother’s friend. I even had a boyfriend, Liam. Sure, I didn’t much like him, just one of those “we have classes together so let’s go out” type of relationships. But still, Lacey told me it’d be weird if I said no to Liam. I hadn’t even let him hold my hand in the two months we were together—and believe me, that counted as pretty weird in everyone’s book. And yet, there I was checking out James Murphy.
I sat on the sand embankment and bent my knees, resting my elbows on them. James had lots of girlfriends, never any serious. And now that I thought about it, James dating other girls twisted my stomach. I groaned out loud, wondering how I could have let myself be so stupid.
“God, Sloane” I heard. “I was only kidding.”
I straightened my back, unable to turn to face James. But I knew him, and there was no way he’d leave me without finding out what was going on. Then, sure enough, he was standing over me. “You okay?” he asked. His voice held no hint as to what he was thinking; whether he was embarrassed for me, whether he had even noticed that he was right about the way I’d been looking at him.
I nodded, but he just chuckled. He tossed a tent pole on thesand in front of us and dropped down next me, bumping me as he did. James was big, and I fell to my side, catching myself with my hands. Normally I would have pushed him back, but I didn’t want to touch him. I wanted to figure out how to make my feelings go away. Me, James, and Brady were a team. I didn’t want to mess it up.
“Holy hell,” he said, sounding amused. “You really were checking me out.”
“I wasn’t,” I said quickly, turning to him. But it was too late. James read the truth all over my face. His easy smile slid away from his lips.
“Sloane,” he whined my name. “You don’t get to do that. This can’t . . . We can’t . . .” He stopped, his beautiful eyes holding nothing but pity for me. So I did the only thing I could. I punched him in the chest, making him gasp, and got up and walked away.
And here we are, over two years later. Once again I’m watching James build a tent, but this time my brother’s dead. James’s hair isn’t in his eyes, but he brushes at his forehead absently anyway. At one point, he looks sideways at me, but he doesn’t smile like he did that day. Instead his eyes are weary from putting up the tent by himself. He presses his lips together in an “I miss him too” sort of expression and I look away.
The team broke up, but it wasn’t me who did it. It was Brady.
• • •
The fire crackles, the heat licking out toward my boots. The sun set a few hours ago, but neither of us said much throughout the day. It was nice that we didn’t have to.
James taps my leg with a thin stick and I take it from him, looking next to me. “Marshmallow?” he asks, holding one out between his thumb and finger. I watch as the amber light plays off his features: his strong jaw, his golden hair. I smile.
“You’re beautiful,” I say.
“I look good naked too,” he adds. “You didn’t mention that.”
“I forgot.”
“You forgot?” He pretends to be offended, and then takes a bite out of the marshmallow before tossing the rest into the fire. James immediately drops out of his chair, crawling over to mine and grabbing me, pulling me down into the dirt with him.
“James . . . ,” I start to say, laughing. But his lips are on mine, tasting sticky and sweet. He lays me back, his knee nudging my legs apart as he starts kissing my neck. “James,” I murmur again, only this time it’s with longing.
I love this—this moment. Because as we roll on the ground, the fire burning hot as James peels off my clothes, I can block out everything else. I can focus on how good I feel right now. I can pretend that there is nothing else but us.
And when we’re
I sat on the sand embankment and bent my knees, resting my elbows on them. James had lots of girlfriends, never any serious. And now that I thought about it, James dating other girls twisted my stomach. I groaned out loud, wondering how I could have let myself be so stupid.
“God, Sloane” I heard. “I was only kidding.”
I straightened my back, unable to turn to face James. But I knew him, and there was no way he’d leave me without finding out what was going on. Then, sure enough, he was standing over me. “You okay?” he asked. His voice held no hint as to what he was thinking; whether he was embarrassed for me, whether he had even noticed that he was right about the way I’d been looking at him.
I nodded, but he just chuckled. He tossed a tent pole on thesand in front of us and dropped down next me, bumping me as he did. James was big, and I fell to my side, catching myself with my hands. Normally I would have pushed him back, but I didn’t want to touch him. I wanted to figure out how to make my feelings go away. Me, James, and Brady were a team. I didn’t want to mess it up.
“Holy hell,” he said, sounding amused. “You really were checking me out.”
“I wasn’t,” I said quickly, turning to him. But it was too late. James read the truth all over my face. His easy smile slid away from his lips.
“Sloane,” he whined my name. “You don’t get to do that. This can’t . . . We can’t . . .” He stopped, his beautiful eyes holding nothing but pity for me. So I did the only thing I could. I punched him in the chest, making him gasp, and got up and walked away.
And here we are, over two years later. Once again I’m watching James build a tent, but this time my brother’s dead. James’s hair isn’t in his eyes, but he brushes at his forehead absently anyway. At one point, he looks sideways at me, but he doesn’t smile like he did that day. Instead his eyes are weary from putting up the tent by himself. He presses his lips together in an “I miss him too” sort of expression and I look away.
The team broke up, but it wasn’t me who did it. It was Brady.
• • •
The fire crackles, the heat licking out toward my boots. The sun set a few hours ago, but neither of us said much throughout the day. It was nice that we didn’t have to.
James taps my leg with a thin stick and I take it from him, looking next to me. “Marshmallow?” he asks, holding one out between his thumb and finger. I watch as the amber light plays off his features: his strong jaw, his golden hair. I smile.
“You’re beautiful,” I say.
“I look good naked too,” he adds. “You didn’t mention that.”
“I forgot.”
“You forgot?” He pretends to be offended, and then takes a bite out of the marshmallow before tossing the rest into the fire. James immediately drops out of his chair, crawling over to mine and grabbing me, pulling me down into the dirt with him.
“James . . . ,” I start to say, laughing. But his lips are on mine, tasting sticky and sweet. He lays me back, his knee nudging my legs apart as he starts kissing my neck. “James,” I murmur again, only this time it’s with longing.
I love this—this moment. Because as we roll on the ground, the fire burning hot as James peels off my clothes, I can block out everything else. I can focus on how good I feel right now. I can pretend that there is nothing else but us.
And when we’re
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