Page 182 of Just for the Cameras
“See?” I point at his mouth. “You even know it.”
“I would have been quick.”
“Liar.”
He lightly chuckles and then places his hand on my thigh, the feel of his warm palm against my skin sending my pulse racing with promises of what’s to come tonight.
This intense connection I feel with Graydon is completely different from anything I’ve felt before. With Hardy, there was comfort there, the kind of comfort I’ve come to find as friendship. It took me a while to figure that out, but now that I look back at it, I see it. We were together for a long time, but examining that relationship now, it was almost like we were really good friends…with benefits. The love, the lust, the palpable need I feel with Graydon was not there.
And when I was in Peru, around Hank all the time, yes, I had a crush.I thought about him often. Even after I came back to the States, a piece of me felt like I left something behind in Peru. But being around Hank now, it feels like that piece I left behind was friendship again. Because when Graydon is around, it feels like everything and everyone else fades to black, and he’s what is helping me pump air into my lungs.
I want his attention on me.
I want him touching me, keeping me close.
And it did not start out that way. It did not start with friendship.Itstarted with pure hatred, but that hatred built into so much more…yearning.
The “friend” label is something I would never slap on Graydon because if this thing between us ever ended, I know I wouldn’t be able to be around him afterward. Especially if he started dating someone else. I’d be gutted.
Devastated.
I wouldn’t want to continue some sort of friendship. No, it would have to be a clean break, never to see him again, never watch a Foghorns game, never once look at social media out of fear of seeing his handsomely carved face.
I wouldn’t be able to sustain any contact with him.
And that right there is the difference.
I place my hand on top of his as he navigates the roads, and ask, “So when do games start?”
“We have preseason games next week, and then the season starts.”
“Really?” I ask. “Wow, that’s quicker than I expected.”
“Training camp can’t go on for that long. We would be dead by the time the season starts.”
“What are you talking about? Training camp is not that hard.”
He side-eyes me, making me chuckle. “Says the girl who cut her eye open just from putting her helmet on.”
“Excuse me for being inexperienced with helmets.”
“Beautiful, it’s putting something on your head. It doesn’t take experience.”
“I beg to differ.”
He chuckles and squeezes my thigh as we pull up to the pier and right into a private parking spot.
When he puts the car in park, I glance over at him with a question in my brow. “What do you have planned, mister?”
He winks, and I nearly melt right there on his truck seat as he says, “You’ll see.”
With that, he gets out of the truck and moves around to my side, where he opens the door and helps me out. I chose a simple pair of white jean shorts, brown strappy sandals, and a navy blue off-the-shoulder sweater. I didn’t want to get too dressed up, given what he was wearing, but I also wanted to look nice for our first official date. I kept my hair in a high ponytail, but redid it just to fluff it a little bit more.
Good thing I kept it in a ponytail because it seems like we’re going to be going out to sea.
He takes my hand in his and guides me out to the docks, where a decently sized yacht—nothing too obnoxious—is floating, three crew workers wearing white shirts and shorts waiting for us.
“Graydon, what is all of this?”
