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“Your rules,” I smiled. “You both can pick whichever you want.”
Mila shook her finger. “No, just me. Like I said, I’m not taking the quiz. But, I’m picking both because they remind me of you: green eyes and big arms.” Mila adjusted the strap to her yellow bikini, flashing an untanned portion of her already tawny skin. She winked at me, her brow raised through the dark shades of her glasses.
“I’ve seen bigger.” Gemma stuck her tongue out at me, then looked at Mila, both of them cackling like schoolgirls.
“Come closer to the pool and tell me that.” I warned playfully, splashing water towards them. Mila tossed a towel in my direction, but I caught it, placing it below my bronzed arms like a pillow for my chin. I finally started to feel relaxed.
“Few more questions.” Mila cleared her throat. “Towering and tattooed, or brawny and bare?”
Brawny and bare,I answered to myself again, knowing she’d pick it.
Gemma chewed on the corner of her lip, taking her time to dog-ear a page in her Vogue. “Towering and tattooed,” she smiled, and I almost swallowed water. I turned to her immediately, completely caught off guard by her unexpected response.
“Dark and desirable, or sandy and stylish?” Mila asked.
“What the hell does that mean?” I interrupted.
“It’s a hair question,” Mila squeaked.
Gemma paused again.
Sandy and stylish,right?
“Hmmm…” she contemplated, “let’s go with dark.” Gemma flipped the page to her magazine and gasped, “Ugh, look at this St. La Vie dress! I had no idea it was featured in this issue.” She held it up for Mila, who returned an elongatedooohhhof a noise.
“Since when do you like dark hair?” I reached towards the bowl of peach gummy rings that sat by their side. I popped one into my mouth, savoring the cocktail of sweet candy that perfumed the chlorine and jasmine scented air.
“Darkisdesirable,babe,” Mila interrupted, using the braid of her hair to wave hello. “How could anyone resist?”
They both laughed again, their sudden friendship becoming more startling than the answers Gemma just gave. I had no idea what happened between the two, considering last night was a complete disaster.
“Ok, last one!” Mila declared. “Dependable or spontaneous?” Gemma considered the question as if the results could come true, looking up at the shade of a bellowing palm tree.
The air silenced itself, disturbed only by the gentle laps of pool water that rocked by my chest. I sat harbored like a steady boat, her words like the passengers I needed in order to fulfill the purpose of my existence.
Say it, Gemma, tell me, please.
Why was this answer so important to me, and why did it feel like my life depended on it? Yes, I tortured myself with even the smallest of gestures and words, my mind burned out from years of asking and contemplating:is this right, is this wrong?I just wanted things to be easier, and to shake the dust from the fucking shelf I put us on.
“Dependable,” Gemma finally answered, sparking another jot of Mila’s pen into the magazine. She began to tally up the results as I back-stroked away from the edge, submerging my ears into the water, muffling them to not appear so desperate for the results.
“Oh, this is interesting.” Mila hummed as I stood up in the deep end, pushing off towards the peach rings again.
I reached in the bowl and fished one out, my brow creased from the sun. I wanted my name to be on the list, no matter how impossible that was, shamefully pining for Gemma as she took a look at me.
Thank god I was in the water, hiding how my cock responded to her. I pressed myself against the pool wall, forcing it down while fantasizing about dragging her in, untying her top, and biting the tip of her tits with an insatiable suck. If she could just reach into my trunks and set me free, I’d let myself stand stiff between the thin, wet polyester bikini that protected her from me accidentally slipping inside. Jesus, I was so restless.
I bit off a piece of candy.
“Who’s the lucky guy?” I asked. Mila peeked up from the magazine.
“It was close, but I like the results,” she assessed. “It says here: ‘You’re a homebody who loves quiet nights in, one who prefers the comforts of a sweet and reliable cuddler, rather than a naughty night owl. Although you like peace, you also desire a little spice. You need someone who can keep you on your toes with a tatted and toned body,’”Mila wafted her face. “‘Your celebrity soulmate is: Chris Evans.’”
“Where can I claim my prize?” Gemma wiggled her eyebrows.
I chuckled to myself, her adorable expression making the muscles around my mouth ache into a smile.
“He’d be perfect! It would be like we were dating twins!” Mila pointed the magazine in my direction for comparison.
