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Mr. Stevens,
It has come to our attention that your physical therapy and MRI results, although promising...
And he will just stop right there, skimming the rest of the email. He clicks the link to register for an in-person meeting. He signs up for the furthest date out, which is actually next week.
Jesus. Is it really mid-July already?
He wanted to stay in his bubble forever.
But that was not realistic.
Life was calling, and it was angry.
No matter how much he wanted to share his life with Melody, he had to face the fact that he had failed. Just like his shoulder probably failed, fucking up his chances to swim this year.
She still couldn't touch him in public or even acknowledge what they shared. It was humiliating and getting hard for him to keep still.
He couldn’t understand how she compartmentalized their attraction so easily when he was just a few seconds from exploding.
The front door opens noisily. It needs some lube or something. Maybe he will head out to the shed in the back for some WD 40. Ha, Mami would kill him.
From this angle, he can see Melody's face and body. Her chair is facing the French doors, not sure if she did that on purpose when she realized he couldn't come outside or if it was just a coincidence. Unfortunately, Max is sitting beside her, but thankfully leaving a respectful distance between them, probably because Mami is there. His arm is stretched out on the backrest, right behind Melody.
Nash gives her a once-over to make sure she's ok and not uncomfortable. She is leaning forward, so he knows she is not particularly happy with Max's closeness, but there are no other red flags. Plus, with her leaning forward, he could see down her top, so he wasn't complaining.
He pulls out his phone because, apparently, he is a masochist.
Nash: Lean forward just a little more.
He rolls his eyes at himself. Oh yeah, real smooth.
Taking her phone off the coffee table, she reads the message discreetly. Covering her mouth to stifle a laugh, she searches for him through the French doors.
He can hear stuff happening inside the house, people talking, but everything he cares about is right outside.
When her eyes meet his, she reaches over to pick something off the floor. He smiles, getting more than eyeful of her cleavage. He snaps a picture. That one's a keeper.
Nash: Good girl.
She straightens up, phone in hand, and smiles softly, her cheeks turning pink.
He sends her the picture he just took. She looks down at her screen, eyes darkening and hooded. He knows that look quite well.
It’s need.
Before he could ask her to come inside so he could help her take the edge off in the half bathroom on the main floor, Marisol comes stomping down the stairs.
"Jesus!" She startles when she notices him on the couch. "Why are you skulking around inside, you jerk." She sits next to him.
"Mami said I can't go out there, that I have to stay inside so they can get to know Max." He rolls his eyes dramatically.
She looks out into the patio, tracing his line of sight.
"Is that all she said?" Marisol asks.
He laughs. "She also told me to put on a shirt. I compromised." He shrugs.
"Why?” Her face scrunches up. “Oh my Gawd, they didn't want you to distract Melody with all your musclesss." She teases.
