Page 14 of Shatter

"Oh, good idea," he replies, standing. He drops his hand to my hip intimately and drops a kiss to my temple. This kind of shared intimacy has always been easy with Parker. We've known each other since we were kids. But his kisses and touches have never made me giddy. They don't make my stomach swoop in excitement. They definitely have never turned me on.

Guilt snakes through me at the dejected look on Harrison's face.

"You coming, Hare-Bear?"

I hadn't considered his scars. He might not join us if he doesn't like to display them. I'm dying to see them, though, and when I lock eyes with him, I know I've won.

He nods, his face a stormy constellation of anger, pain, and confusion.

I really need to get him alone.

I rush to drop off the dishes in the sink and then to my room to change. Parker joins me, but we've seen each other naked dozens of times, so I didn't think anything of it, but if Harrison was getting naked with another woman? Right next door?

My gut sours as I think about this past month. Who's to say he hasn't? Who's to say he hasn't been with someone else? He owns a sex club for fucks' sake.

My stomach churns uncomfortably. I have no claim on him. He's not mine. I'm not sure he ever could be mine. But the thought of him with someone else? It makes me sick to my stomach.

I grab some towels from the linen closet and rush to the back patio. Parker follows me out, and we pose for a few selfies against the setting sun. Chris and Athena come out after, and for the first time I notice Athena's perky, fake tits, straining against a white one-piece. Anger flares bright in my chest. Whose fucking attention is she trying to get? Parker's? Harrison's?

How my mother has dressed has never bothered me before, but Harrison is closer to her age than mine. Is that his type?

"Jesus," Chris chokes out, coughing and sputtering. He'd taken a quick inhale while mid-sip of his beer and was choking on it.

I look up and let my gaze drink Harrison in - all his beautifully scarred glory.

"Oh... uh..." Parker says, averting his gaze.

Scar tissue runs up the complete left side of him. From just behind his ear, over one shoulder to his elbow, across his stomach and disappearing beneath swim trunks. He's stunning. He looks otherworldly, like some ancient, avenging God, fresh from battle. All he needs is a kilt and a battle-axe.

I lick my lips, my swim suit suddenly hotter than the hot tub we're sitting in.

He shrugs. "You guys wanted me here," he says, not apologetic in the least.

I know a little bit about what happened. There was a house fire when he was a child. His parents and sister were out of town when it happened, and there's some bad blood between Chris and him. He spent months in the ICU and burn units, multiple grafts, multiple surgeries.

Harrison climbs over the side of the tub, but all I can see is his wide feet, flexing muscles, and washboard abs.

My hands itch to touch him, to run my fingers over his scars. I want to crawl in his lap and ride him, fuck who's watching.

Now submerged, the only scarring visible is on his chest and shoulder.

Parker's the first to regain his composure. I'm sure he's pulling inspiration from his media training and fans interactions.

"Naw, man. I'm sorry. I just wasn't expecting it." Parker's a good guy, really. Maybe a little simple and naive. But he's a good man, and I appreciate him trying to make Harrison feel better.

Harry shrugs again. "I've gotten used to it. It's a lot at first. I understand."

Chris's face is red, but I can't tell if it's from the beer, the heat or from Harrison's scars. I couldn't care less.

When my parents joined us, I positioned us so the only place Harrison would fit was on my right. He's still staying as far away from me as he can, but any farther would put him inappropriately close to my mother.

My anger and jealousy subside when I realize Harrison hasn't looked at her once. He closes his eyes, resting his head back.

Under the harsh back patio lights, though, is when I notice the dark bags under his eyes. How his cheeks look just a little thinner than before.

I know I'm playing with fire. But I don't care.

The bubbles in the water hide anything beneath the surface as Parker picks back up the conversation about some director's creative vision and what our agent thinks is the next big thing. I couldn't care less.