Page 9 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

Brenna rushes to me, helping me up. I huff out a breath, ready to thank her. As if this wasn’t embarrassing enough.

That is, until I look up and am face-to-face with her breasts, which are still calling my name. It’s taking everything I have in me not to reach out and swipe one with my tongue. But that would be wrong. So, so wrong.

My dick surges, a whole new rush of lust coursing through me. Fuck, is she stunning. Has she always looked this good?

“Oh, shit!” Brenna exclaims, letting go of me. She must have realized where my face is and that she’s still just as naked. Hopefully she didn’t also realize I was half a second away from motorboating her.

The two of us scurry away from each other, Brenna landing back on the bed, hastily wrapping the covers around her. I watch her out of the corner of my eye, simultaneously thankful that she’s covered and disappointed that I can’t get an up close look.

Seriously, I need to go.

“I’ll…I’ll catch you later!”

This time I make it out the bedroom door without tripping, moving down the stairs faster than I've ever moved before. I don’t bother looking at the time, knowing that I’m late. But there’s nothing I can do about that now. Because on top of smelling like mash, I’m hard as fucking granite and worried that no amount of jacking off is going to change that.

Worse than that, I’m sure not anything will ever erase from my mind just how magnificent Brenna looked in that moment. That no matter what, I’ll always see her, hear her, when I close my eyes. That I’ll never be able to forget the way she’s making me feel right now.

Or that I don’t want to forget.

4

BRENNA

I think I’ll die now.

Pulling the covers tighter around me, I remind myself to breathe, even as my lungs burn from holding on to my last inhale. I just can’t seem to let go. Death really does seem like the better option.

Maybe even the only option. Because really, where does one go from here? It’s certainly not looking Milo in the eye. Not after he just saw me like that.

And now I have to live with him for the rest of the summer. Fuck me.

I crash backward, the mattress swaying under the force of me, dread surrounding me. I don’t know that I’ve ever been this embarrassed in my entire life. And that’s saying something, because I have done some seriously dumb shit.

The chirp of my phone cuts through my pity party, and I blindly reach for it, my heart racing. Chances are it’s Brandt, letting me know he’s on the plane and headed west. No, he would have texted me for that. It’s probably my mom, making sure that everything is good.

But there’s also the possibility that it’s Milo. Telling me…I don’t even know. There are all sorts of things he could probably say—and nothing that I can come up with in this moment is good. All of it is awkward or mean or lands me living back at my parents’ this summer.

Still, I need to answer. So here goes.

I glance down, and the whole world settles as my best friend’s face flashes across the small screen. Just Mell. Thank God.

“Hi!” I greet, maybe a little too cheerfully.

“Hi,” she answers back skeptically. “What’s wrong?”

I sigh, finally exhaling fully, my muscles thankful for the release. Rolling off the bed, I grab Sherlock off the floor, holding down the power button until the little LED shuts off, hoping like hell the sound of him doesn’t travel through the phone. Let’s not add to the awkward.

Sorry, Sherlock, you might be furloughed for a bit…

“Nothing. Why would anything be wrong?”

Shit…

“You sound weird.”

“Nope, all good here!”

“Bren…”