“Oh yeah, a laugh riot,” I chuckle, beckoning her to follow me toward the kitchen with a flick of my head. “You hungry at all? I made us a snack, but please don’t judge it by the way it looks. I was trying to copy this picture I found to make it all neatand shit, but instead it’s just kind of a mess.” I gesture to the charcuterie board sitting on the island with a wince, a flush of embarrassment heating my cheeks.
“So what? We’re just gonna eat it anyways, right?” she scoffs.
“Right,” I agree, my shoulders slumping in relief. At least she’s chill. I’ve never tried this hard with a girl before, but Chey also seems refreshingly easy to please.
Leading her over to the kitchen island, I gesture to the charcuterie board resting upon it with a wince, a flush of embarrassment heating my cheeks. She stifles a giggle when she sees the haphazard piles of meat and cheese stacked on the plank, shaking her head as she looks up at me.
“What was it supposed to look like?”
I slip my phone out of my pocket, pulling up the photo and turning the screen her way.
She snorts a laugh, eyes bouncing between the picture on my phone and my failed attempt at mimicking it. “Hey, it’s better than I could’ve done,” she remarks, plucking a cube of cheese off the corner of the board and popping it in her mouth. She smiles as she chews, then swallows. “Tastes great.”
“Guess that’s all that matters,” I reply with a bashful shrug, stepping around the island to the vodka bottle and glasses of ice waiting on the counter. “Want a drink?”
“Yes please,” she sighs, picking up another piece of cheese and nibbling on the corner.
“Coming right up,” I quip as I open the fridge and take out a bottle of cranberry juice. There’s no way we’re running out tonight– I stocked up after last time. Four bottles might’ve been overkill, but I’d rather be prepared. Don’t want her to think I can’t take care of my woman.
I mix up the drinks and carry them back over, handing Chey’s to her before taking a sip of my own. “So, you think they’ll merge tonight?” I ask as I set it back down on the counter.
“Doubt it,” she murmurs as she stacks a cracker with meat and cheese. “The tribes think they’re heading into the merge, so that means it’s the perfect time for Jeff to throw a twist.”
“True, but in past seasons, they’ve merged by now,” I murmur contemplatively.
“Exactly, they’re trying to throw them off!” she exclaims.
As if I wasn’t already ridiculously attracted to Chey, the fact that I can nerd out with her about Survivor is like the icing on the cake.
We debate the topic a little more, each hedging our bets on how the episode is going to play out, then load up a couple small plates with charcuterie and head into the living room, eager to settle in before it starts. Not only have we graduated to greeting each other with hugs, but she also sits nice and close when she sinks down beside me on the couch. I toss an arm over the sofa cushions behind her, and it isn’t long before she’s leaning against me, snuggling in as the show starts to play on the large flatscreen TV.
I won’t admit to how much I sniff her hair through the duration of the episode. Not my fault it smells so damn good.
I swear everything in life is better with Cheyenne, and watching my favorite TV show is no exception. We toss snarky commentary back and forth throughout, poking fun at the drama brewing between the contestants, and when the credits roll, I’m bummed it’s over. We’ll have to wait another week for the next installment, but with any luck, we’ll be watching together.
“You were right,” I sigh, turning to look at her as a commercial starts to play. “No merge.”
She lifts her chin, a smug grin creasing her lips. “Told ya.”
“You won the bet, so name your prize,” I say, smiling back at her.
We hold eye contact for a long moment as she contemplates it, my pulse kicking up a notch when I realize how close our faces are right now. All it’d take is a dip of my chin to press my lips to hers. Iwantto, but I also don’t wanna push my luck when it comes to her boundaries. I’m willing to take this as slow as she needs me to.
Clearly we’re on the same page, because Chey’s gaze flickers down to my lips as she wets hers with her tongue, drawing a shallow breath. “How about a kiss?”
Fuck yes.
I can’t contain my responding grin as I lift a hand to cup her face, tilting her chin up further and leaning down to capture her lips. I plant soft kisses against them, slowly warming her up as she relaxes into it, completely attuned to the signals she’s putting off. Her tongue glides against the seam of my lips, letting me know she wants more, and I’m all too eager to give it to her.
Up on that mountain, our kisses were tentative and exploratory. This one may have started out that way, but it rapidly turns hot and heavy as we lose ourselves in the moment, completely consumed by one another. Our lips glide, tongues tangling. She fists the front of my t-shirt as if she can’t get me close enough, and I start to get carried away myself, my hands wandering. One grips her waist while the other slides up her arm, the ridges of the scars on her bicep rough beneath my fingertips. I feel her muscles tense the moment I touch them and immediately ease off, but the moment’s ruined.
Chey breaks the kiss by pulling back, her lashes fluttering as she blinks her eyes open.
“Sorry,” I pant. “I…”
“No, it’s fine,” she interrupts, reaching out to cup my jaw with a soft smile. “I know this isn’t easy, but I appreciate how amazing you’ve been about it. More than I can even say.” Her smile fades as her hand slides away from my face, reaching overto tug up the sleeve of her t-shirt and show me her scar. “I got this one the same night as my mark,” she quietly admits.
I furrow my brow, glancing down at the scar, then back up into her eyes. “How?”
