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Jonah laughs. “As inviting as that sounds, I think I’ve had enough disgusting beer for a—Wait. You play guitar?”
“Yep.” I wiggle my fingers for some dumbass reason. “Got the gift from my dear old dad, whose love for music died the second his love for the beach did. I actually play his old guitar, self-taught.”
“Oh, wow.” He glances over his shoulder at the house, hugs himself, then shrugs. “Well, maybe I can come in for, like … I dunno, maybe a song or two?”
I brighten up at once. “Yeah, sounds great.”
Jonah smiles. Just seeing that smile on his face is as effective as his touching the little scar on my arm. He has to be made of pure, infectious energy, because I see no other reason why he has such an effect on me.
Other than I’ve fucking lost it.
I bring Jonah inside, ready to have some meaningful one-on-one time with him, bare my soul, and do all the stuff that’s been living solely in my head.
Instead, what we get is Skip playing on his Xbox on the living room TV, feet kicked up, in his boxers.
Seriously, dude. “Why aren’t you at the bonfire, Skip?”
He frowns without taking his eyes off of the screen. “I thought you said I shouldn’t be at the bonfire?”
“I said you shouldn’t drink. And I said you should find better friends. I didn’t say—” The frustration is mounting. Can’t just one damned thing go right tonight? “I wanted to show Jonah the house and the—”
“Hi, Jonah,” says Skip, taking his eyes off the screen for half a second to acknowledge him. “Thanks again.”
“Oh, the Elysian thing? Seriously, nothing to thank me for.” Jonah shrugs as he takes a few steps inside, then thrusts his hands into his pockets and watches the TV with curiosity, squinting.
This wasn’t exactly the intimate one-on-one vibe I was going for. “Skip, do you mind?”
“I do. You got your bedroom to mess around in.”
I feel my face flush. “We’re not messing around in my bedroom. I was gonna play him my guitar a bit.”
“So play it here.”
“Where the hell’s Reef and Dwayne? I thought you guys always hang out Friday nights.”
“First, you tell me to stop hanging so much with them. Now you want me to? Make up your mind. Fuck, almost died.” He grunts as he jabs the controller with his thumbs.
I’m about to come back with something else when Jonah appears at my side. “Hey, it’s alright. Y’know what? I’m feeling kinda drained anyway. Long day and all. Maybe we can hang out tomorrow sometime.”
I lift an eyebrow. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Think I need a good night’s rest or something. I appreciate you showing me your place and … walking the beach with me and all that. It means a lot to me.”
“Sure, yeah. Meant a lot to me, too.” I put on a smile. I hope this fake-ass smile doesn’t show too much of my disappointment.
“Maybe we can, uh … grab some lunch tomorrow? Or we could—”
“I have work,” I say in the lamest, shittiest, dumbest voice in the world. I have never wanted to spontaneously quit a job faster than I do right now. “But maybe we can get together tomorrow night?”
“Yeah, great! Assuming … Rico hasn’t made some sort of weird plans for us or something.”
“Ah, okay. Well …” I clear my throat.
Jonah nods, plays an awkward sort of drum rhythm on his hips with his hands, then points at the door. “Guess I’ll see myself out.”
“I can walk you back,” I quickly volunteer. “It’s a long walk.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I like long walks on the beach.” He gives his words a second consideration. “I meant road. Long walks on the … road … since I won’t be walking on the beach. I sound like a bad dating profile. The Elysian’s just a few blocks and down a bit, anyway.” He clenches his eyes. “Which … obviously you know, since you live here. Sorry. Long day.”
“It’s no big deal.”
He stammers out a few unintelligible syllables and noises, then finally settles on, “Well, see ya around,” then leaves. I watch him through the window as his sexy shape in that yellow tank top disappears down the uneven road, out of sight.
Skipper chuckles. “Wow, you’re so smitten.”
I scowl at my brother. “Shut up, you big cock block.” I drop onto the couch next to him, grab the other controller, and dive in.
Chapter 9 - Jonah
I probably should’ve hung out longer with Kent, even with his brother there. We could’ve played games. Maybe I would have heard Kent strum a few songs on the guitar.
Damn, I really should have stayed.
But the trade-off isn’t so bad.
The trade-off being: me, right the fuck now, soaking in a bathtub the size of Jupiter, full of bubbles, with soft and relaxing music on in the background. It’s some kind of spa mix, I think; I just let Spotify decide for me.
