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Nash: I will have the sweetest dreams.
It’s well after midnight when she hears her parents come in. Her mom’s heels clinking across the hallway and the low murmur of conversation as the microwave door slams shut. She pulls the covers off and makes her way to the kitchen. Both are still fully dressed in business attire. Mom’s pencil skirt and blouse are still perfectly starched. No wrinkles on that woman, not on her clothes or her face. She looks fantastic, considering how stressful their jobs are. They are both senior partners in some fancy law firm or another.
“Oh no, Melody! Did we wake you, honey?” Her mother rushes over to her, cradling Melody’s face in her hands. Her mother loves her; she knows that. However, she also knows that she will always play second fiddle to her one true love: work.
“Nah, I was still awake, Mom, don’t worry.”
“Reading into the night again?” Her dad comes up behind them, embracing her in a bear hug. “I remember when you were ten years old and caught you reading at 2 am! Imagine that.” His laugh rumbles through her as she smiles back at him fondly.
“Yep. The one good thing about being a grown-up is that no one can tell me when to stop reading!” Melody counters, sticking her tongue out at her dad.
She sits with her parents while they eat leftovers and discuss the case they are working on. It is not the most exciting of conversations, but she enjoys sitting in their company while they chatter.
Chapter Four
Nash
Those legs. The image she sent last night is seared into his brain, his imagination conjuring up all sorts of things he would do to them. Those thoughts have hijacked his entire day. He can barely function, constantly checking his phone. It’s almost noon and she hasn't responded to his earlier messages. To be fair, she hasn't read them either, but that doesn't mean he hasn't checked a few times or a hundred.
Sitting on the bleachers waiting for his next class, he decides to send another one because has zero self-control. He takes a selfie and sends it to her; shirtless, of course, because he knows what she likes. He noticed her attention stray to his chest and shoulders while they were talking. So, really, Nash was just giving his woman what she wanted.
Ok, so she wasn't his woman yet, but things were definitely headed in the right direction.
He looked up to see his class getting their gear ready. These kids were fast as hell, keeping him on his toes. Rising up from the bleachers, he met them at the starting blocks. “Ready to swim, guys? Let's start with a 200 free. Nice and easy.”
This group was composed of primarily advanced kids. He was coaching the summer swim league this year, Goooo Nashville Narwhals. Taking a break from his training after a shoulder injury, however, he hasn't told his mom the latter because she would freak. It really hasn’t come up, all he said to her was that he was coming home this summer to help the local league for community service credits. That was the end of it. That’s all she wanted to hear anyway. She had been busting his balls about not coming down enough.
The truth was, he may not be able to swim competitively anymore. That last month of school was tough, finding out his physical therapy wasn't going quite as they had planned right in the middle of finals week. Thankfully, he was a pretty big nerd and actually got a full ride to UCLA academically, despite looking like a dumb jock as Melody so eloquently stereotyped him. He had been putting most of his efforts into a career in Sports Medicine anyway. He is on the swim team only because he loves it, and he is pretty damn good at it, well, was. Shaking out his shoulder before it becomes tight, he glances at his phone again.
Melody: Nice abs.
Melody: I just woke up.
A picture of a bowl of cereal pops up on his screen.
Melody: I need your help.
Melody: Black or white?
Two dresses lay on rumpled bed sheets; one black strapless and another white with little straps. They look the same to him, just a different color, so he just picks one randomly.
Nash: Definitely white.
Melody: Yeah? Ok.
Melody: Since you have been, oh so, helpful, I need your assistance again.
Melody: Black lace or red?
An image of two different sets of panties rolls up his screen. Startled, but in a very good way, he moves further away from the pool. Hand coming up to scratch his eyebrow shielding the image before him from prying eyes.
Nash: This is a hard choice. Is none an option?
Nash: Would you go without panties for me, Melody?
Melody: That depends on two things.
Nash: What two things?
