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Chapter Ten
Finley
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“What’s this from?”I trail my fingers across a jagged scar that runs along the front of Abel’s shin. We’re sitting opposite each other on the couch; his legs stretched out next to me and mine next to him as we both sit propped up against the arm rests facing each other.
“Skiing accident when I was ten.” His eyes go to his leg before coming back up to my face.
“Ouch. What happened?”
“My family all loves to ski. Me, not so much. Normally whenever we’d go to the slopes I’d go tubing or hiking. I’m shit on skis.” He chuckles to himself. “But on this particular day, Adam was being overly obnoxious, teasing me relentlessly about being the only one in the family who couldn’t ski. So, in true brotherly fashion, I set out to prove him wrong. Only problem, wanting to prove him wrong and actually being able to are two very different things. Of course, that thought never crossed my mind until I was already on the hill, by which point it was too late.”
“Oh no.” I cover my mouth with my hand and try not to laugh.
“I don’t even know what happened. One minute I was on my feet, the next I was tumbling down the hill. By the time I reached the bottom, I had a dislocated shoulder, two cracked ribs, and had one healthy gash in my leg.” He gestures to the scar.
“How awful.”
“Yeah, it was bad. On the plus side, when my parents found out that the reason I was on that hill to begin with was because of Adam, they grounded him for a month. So I guess in the end I came out victorious.”
“Not sure I would call that victorious.” I shake my head. “Have you suffered any other injuries I should know about?”
“Well, let’s see.” He taps his chin dramatically. “There was the time when my buddy Chris and I went cliff diving and I got a pretty gnarly gash taken out of my foot.” He holds up his left leg to show me the scar that runs the length of the side of his foot.
“Dear god.”
“Ended up with quite a few stitches over that one.” He drops his leg back down. “Oh, and this one.” He lifts up his right arm and points to another scar along his triceps. This one is a straight white line I’d say is no more than three inches in length. “This one I got jumping off a roof into a swimming pool. Snagged my arm on the edge of the ladder as I hit the water.”
“Wait, how close to the edge of the pool were you to hit your arm on the ladder.”
“Too close,” he admits. “Let’s just say I never did it again.”
“I don’t understand why you did it the first time.”
“I was a stupid kid.” He shrugs.
“Does that mean your days of jumping off cliffs and houses are behind you?”
“Most definitely.” A wide smile graces his face, his dimple on full display. I swear my heart leaps in my chest at the sight.
He’s gorgeous.
There’s no other way to describe it. He’s the very definition of good looking, but when that dimple pops out he becomes even more irresistible.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry.
“What about you? Surely you made your fair share of bad choices while growing up.”
“I didn’t, actually.” I reach for the bottle of water on the floor next to the couch, twisting the cap off and taking a long drink before turning my attention back to Abel. “I mean, I made bad choices, but none that ever put me in physical harm.”
“Broken bones?”
“None.”
“Stitches?”
“Never.”
