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I’ve never been brave enough to do the Monster Slide, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. I might aspire to be full of Girlboss bravery and energy, but it’s baby steps to get there…
Maybe I’m just fooling myself.
“So what do you say? Time for one more?” I ask as I sit up from my sun lounger. Ethan and I claimed a couple by the pool at lunchtime and have been lazing around all afternoon in post-hot-dog-eating bliss. What is it about food from sketchy amusement park food stands that tastes so good?
Hmm. After watching a couple Netflix documentaries, maybe I shouldn’t go looking for that answer.
Ethan lifts his head and opens literally half an eye. “Park’s closing soon, everyone’s heading out. We might be too late, Teeny.”
“Well, with that attitude…” I joke, shoving his shoulder. My stomach drops out to feel his sun-kissed skin beneath my fingers, the taut muscles in his upper tricep. I retract my hand like I’ve been burned.
It’s a shoulder. A SHOULDER!
Why on earth are man shoulders so sexy? Please, explain.
He frowns, oblivious to my inner conundrum. “Good point. Besides, you haven’t had a chance to do the Monster Slide yet.”
I shoot him a tired look. “Ha ha. You know where I stand with the Monster Slide and all of its way-too-steep, guaranteed-butt-burn glory.”
“Come on, Teeny. Live a little.”
Ethan says this with one eye in a winky-squint against the sunlight, his hands clasped behind his head so his biceps are popping out and looking particularly bicepy. I don’t even think he’s flexing.
He looks like a freaking, annoying Greek god again and I’m not enjoying the way my body’s responding. Particularly the way my gaze is zeroing in on his smirk, his full bottom lip that looks just so bite-able…
Yup, I’m officially imagining what it might be like to “live a little” with Ethan again…
And it has nothing to do with the Monster Slide.
“Teeny?” he says.
“Yeah?”
“Do I have something on my face?”
I blink. “What?”
“You’re staring at me.” He brushes his fingers across his bottom lip—a move which should not make my insides do Olympic-gymnast level flips. “Do I have ketchup on my mouth?”
“Nope.” I shake my head, at a loss for any sort of smooth transition out of the fact that I’ve been staring at him like the light spatter of freckles across his cheekbones could decode the secrets of the Bermuda Triangle.
“Good.” He smiles, but then his gaze sharpens and he sits up abruptly. Faces me so his knees almost graze mine.
He’s staring at my mouth now, his brown eyes locked on me as my senses are bathed in his firewood scent. Seriously, he should not smell so good after being in chlorine all day. He leans in close and I find myself leaning in, too.
What is happening right now? And why can’t I bring myself to stop it?
“Stay still.” He reaches towards me.
My breath catches.
“You’ve got sunscreen on your lip.”
Oh. Of course. He’s staring at me because my face is literally dirty.
“Do I?!” I paw at my mouth.
He chuckles at my frantic movements. After a beat, he shakes his head. “You’re missing it.” He puts out a hand again. “May I?”
