Page 39 of Was I Ever Here

The scar on my wrist suddenly itchy at the thought.

The crunch of tires on gravel snaps me out of my gloomy thoughts as Byzantine parks the car. A small alcove faces us, the beach deserted and tucked out of sight from the road. I look over to him, sporting an air of victory as if he knew I’d love this place.

I grin. “Good thing I’m already wearing a bathing suit.”

He lets out a throaty chuckle while giving me a once over.

“Wouldn't mind if you weren’t.”

I ignore the way my body flushes at the implication and playfully shove his shoulder. “Perv,” I volley back.

He laughs as he opens his door and climbs out. Weeks of Byzantine giving me a ride home has trained me into knowing there’s no use fighting his overbearing need to open my car door for me, so I sit and watch him walk around to the passenger side.

He opens the door, offering his hand and I take it. He winks at me when I step out, letting go of my hand as he turns towards the back of the car. He pops the trunk and pulls out a blanket for us to sit on and a small picnic basket.

A fuckingpicnic basket.

I blink back at him and then raise my brow in slight surprise. “Came prepared, I see.”

He shrugs, looking sheepish as his eyes catch the light. “Maybe just hoping,” he says.

I pretend not to hear the intent behind his tone and look over to the waves crashing on the rocks further out to sea.

Then, I follow him down the small trail and flip off my slides as soon as we hit the sand. I wiggle my toes and smile. The sand and water, the cure for most of my problems.

Although one of my problems is currently staring at me with a pleased smile on his face as I glance over at him. The blanket and basket still tucked under his arms as if he stopped in his tracks just to watch me dig my toes in the sand. I blush and hurry along, letting him pick a spot for us to sit.

As soon as we’re settled, I take my clothes off and drop them beside a gaping Byzantine. I’m wearing the same yellow bikini he last saw me in.

“What?” I stare back at him, popping my hands on my hips like I have absolutely no idea why he’s gone slack-jawed.

He seems to realize he’s staring at me like a horny teenager and shakes it off.

“Nothing,” he mutters, looking away towards the ocean, green eyes squinting against the sun.

“You just look good in yellow,” he adds, before looking back up at me.

A deep pang of want overcomes me. I swallow hard trying to shake off the flush I can feel tingling across my skin. I watch Byzantine notice it, along with the small rise of my chest, his eyes darkening as he follows the blush up to my cheeks.

“Anyway,” I say almost shyly, clearing my throat. “Aren’t you coming in?”

He looks down at his black jeans and Doc Martens and then grins. “I'd rather watch.”

I respond with a small shrug. “Suit yourself.” Turning around, I jog into the warm afternoon waves.

Chapter 23

Byzantine

“So…”Sunnytrailsoff,I can hear the tremble of uncertainty in the tone of her voice. “Should we talk about what happened earlier?”

She’s laying on her stomach beside me, her legs raised up, slightly swaying them back and forth as if trying to unconsciously self-soothe. Her bathing suit is slowly drying on her smooth sun-kissed skin, the book she just bought flipped over and resting in front of her. She’s chewing on the skin of her thumb and I reach over to swat at her hand.

“Stop that, you’ll chew your arm off at this rate.”

She laughs, full of nerves. “Nervous habit.”

She flips her wet hair from one shoulder to the other while still looking at me with a searching gaze. “Well? Should we?”

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