Page 27 of Was I Ever Here


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Or, I hope it’s a couple of months.

Sunny has walls higher than Mount Everest. Can I blame her? She might be a closed book but I’m privy to the lifetimes of reasons why she shouldn’t trust me. And maybe she feels that. But it only makes me want her more.

I just have to convince her I’m not such a piece of shit. Which is proving harder than expected.

Fucking Gary.

Why did he have to lead me to her? Why couldn’t I have bumped into her in the streets? I’m not ashamed of who I am but as far as first impressions go, mine has been far from stellar. And now I can’t stop fucking stalking her.

I bought a bar, for fuck’s sake.

You’d think after my near-death experience I’d be a changed man. I’d hear the angels sing and come back saved or some shit. That’s just not how it works. I’m still me. I just have more insight now—a larger idea of what’s to come when I do die. It’s rid me of the fear of dying.

Could be considered a leg up in my line of work.

A lot of the in-between has faded. Those timeless pockets of existence before I’m birthed into yet another life are fuzzy and unclear. But the lives I’ve spent loving Sunny over and over again? Those burn bright like the force of a thousand suns. And yet…our demise was just as inevitable as our love.

Existing in different bodies, different personalities. Still, it was alwaysus. The same souls forever bound. Forever cursed. Betrayal. Suicide. Murder. You name it we’ve done it to one another. Our paths always destined to cross. But maybe this time we can finally do better. Maybe this time we can succeed, finally learn our lesson and stop hurting each other.

That will be the fucking day.

How can I even begin to explain this to Sunny? Especially now when she doesn’t even trust me. Her fear of me lingers and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t turn me on. I'd be lying if I said I didn’t try to instigate the feeling once or twice before just to watch her flush and her pupils dilate. Her body’s reaction similar to what it could feel like to be buried deep inside of her.

Fuck.

I take a deep breath while I watch her walk out of the surf, her curves trickled with water. Her yellow bikini doing nothing to help suppress the growing erection pressing against the zipper of my jeans. I readjust myself and school my expression, my legs bent up towards my chest, my arms resting over them while I sit in the sand near the shit she left on the beach.

She walks up, pulling her hair on one side to squeeze the sea water out of her curls. Her face remains serious as she looks down at me, leaning over to grab her towel.

She quickly dries herself off and lays her towel flat beside me, plopping herself on top. Her body stretches out like a cat in the sun, her skin still dewy from the water.

Fucking kill me.

“What’s your excuse this time?” she sighs.

Her eyes are closed, arms laid straight beside her as her toes burrow into the sand.

I clear my throat. “My excuse for what?”

She scoffs—she does that a lot—and looks over at me with one eye open.

“For you being here,” she clarifies, lazily waving her arm in my general direction before continuing. “Your all black outfit doesn’t strike me as beach attire.”

I stifle a grin as I rub my hand across the stubble on my face.

“No excuse this time, little sun. I just knew you’d be here.”

I knew she’d be here because she’s here almost every single morning, rain or shine.

She stays silent for a while and then finally replies, “You’re fucking creepy, Byzantine, you know that?”

I glance over, the sounds of the waves crashing close by, her eyes are closed to keep from the glaring rays, a small smile curling her lips.

“You shouldn’t leave your shit unattended like that,” is my only answer.

My ass is sore from sitting on the ground watching her swim for the past half hour, but I refuse to move an inch. Not with Sunny’s body so close to mine. Not with her so relaxed. I need to soak up every second I can when she’s like this. It never lasts. But it doesn’t stop me from imagining what I’d do to her if she would only let me. If only she’d let me in.

The fantasy is easy to conjure up, even now—the tug of her bikini top as I push it aside. Her skin still cold to the touch as I’d glide my hand against her breast. Her pebbled nipple hard between my fingers, pinching it just to hear her moan.

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