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Whenthey emerge from their respective bedrooms a few minutes later, they’re wearing swim trunks.Noshirts.Iblink a couple of times and school my expression, otherwise they’ll never let me live it down.They’vealways been fit, but they’ve obviously been hitting the gym hard.BecauseallIcan see right now are rippling, tattooed muscles everywhereIlook.
Devonruns his hand through his dark hair, his bicep bulging, andIswallow and drag my gaze away so he doesn’t catch me ogling him.Whatthe hell is wrong with me?ThisisDevonandBeau.They’vealways been hot.Imean, ithadtaken me a while to realizeBeauwas hot.That’skind of how it is when you grow up with someone.Butby the time we both exited puberty, there’d been no denying his good looks.EvenifIhad been able to, the girls at school wouldn’t let me ignore it.
And, of course, the first timeIlaid eyes onDevon—walking intoBeau’sliving room with that haunted, defensive look on his face—my heart stuttered, and my mouth went dry.Butit’s been a long time sinceI’vefelt that intense punch of attraction whenIlook at him.Iscrubbed that emotion from my body and my mind years ago.
Istart for the door and clear my throat, hopingIsound normal. “Let’sgo.Iwant to get wet.”
Themuffled snort from behind me makes me cringe.Physically, they may be all man, but their humor is all teenage boy.
Oncewe’re outside,Ilet them take the lead, following them to a set of stairs at the far end of the short hallway.
“Theelevator from the foyer goes up to the pool as long as you have your key fob,”Devontells me. “Butsince we have direct access from this floor, we never bother with it.”
Whenwe get to the rooftop,Istep out from behind them and gasp, turning a full 360 degrees asItake in the view ofLA.
“Wow.Thisis…Thisis incredible.”TheHollywoodHillsare visible in one direction, and in the opposite direction, thePacificOceanis a broad brushstroke of glittering blue under the bright sunlight.Thepool area is tiled, and a brilliant white shade sail extends over part of the area.Lushpotted plants and even small palm trees are scattered around, while luxurious padded loungers surround the water.
Iturn and smile broadly atBeauandDevon, shading my eyes with my hand soIcan see them properly. “Howdo you not spend all day, every day, up here?”
“It’sdifficult, but we do occasionally drag ourselves away to make music,”Devonsays, his mouth curved in amusement.
Ilook around at the deserted space. “Ican’t believe there’s no one else up here.”
Heshrugs. “Peopleare working or shopping or sleeping off an epic hangover.It’llprobably get busier later this afternoon.”
“Okay,”Beausays. “Lesstalking, more swimming.”
Hedumps his towel on a lounger and takes a flying leap into the pool.Devonfollows him in.
Ilaugh and shake my head.ThenIunwrap my cover-up, drop it on another lounger, and stand for a second on the side of the pool, balancing on one foot asIdip the other in to check the temperature.
Ilook up and catchDevon’sgaze flitting over my body.Self-consciousness suffuses my skin with heat.I’mnot tall and stunning like the models the guys hang around now.I’maverage height and curvy, andIknow that’s not a bad thing.Butconsidering the type of women they probably see in bikinis on a regular basis,Iwonder what they think, if anything, when they see me like this.
Iwonder whatDevonthinks.
Ishake my head at myself.Probablynothing.Devon’snever thought of me in any way other than platonic.
Brushingaway my nerves,Iraise my hands above my head, push up on my toes, and dive as gracefully asIcan into the water.Nocannonballs for me.Notthe first time anyway.
Thecool liquid rushing and bubbling along my hot skin is heavenly.Istay under as long asIcan.Then, when my lungs start to strain,Ikick my way to the surface.
Ibreak through the water and gasp in a lungful of air, shoving my wet hair back from my face and blinking my eyes clear.
DevonandBeauare both watching me with grins on their faces.
“There’sour little water baby,”Beausays.
I’vealways loved swimming.Wemay not have grown up anywhere near the ocean, but we did have a small lake.Myfavorite thing to do on weekends was head down there withDevonandBeauand spend the day splashing around and sunbathing.
“Rememberwhen you caught her pretending to be a mermaid?”Devonsays toBeau, who laughs.
Ignoringthem,Iturn on my back and float, tipping my face up and soaking in the way the sun brushes warmth over my skin.Ihalf hearBeauandDevontalking and laughing as the water laps at my ears, and onceI’mfully relaxed,Istroke my way to the far end of the pool.
It’snot thatIdon’t want to talk to the guys.Ido, andIwill.Butsometimes, whenIfind myself in a perfect moment like this,Ineed to quietly absorb it.Andbeing here with my best friends, in a beautiful pool with sunlight streaming over me and this amazing view, makes me want to imprint it on my memory.
Sothat maybe one dayIcan recreate this moment—this feeling—on canvas.
Luckily,DevonandBeauare used to my behavior.Theywon’t be insulted thatI’mnot over there chatting it up yet.Fornow,Irest my crossed arms on the edge of the pool and look out toward thePacific.
