Page 64 of Yard Sale

“Don’t you have a family thing this afternoon?” he asked when we finally broke apart. “Maybe we shouldn’t get too worked up.”

I groaned and knocked my forehead against his. “I want to skip it.”

“Isn’t the whole point of me to make them wildly uncomfortable and also drive home the fact that you’re a ridiculous catch, and they should be fucking lucky to share the same air as you?”

“No one will ever believe that,” I said, pulling back.

Aravind followed me, then snagged my chin and kissed me again. Hard. “Learn your worth, my pretty little bowl of perfectly cooked basmati rice.”

“You are so weird.”

I couldn’t see his smile, but I could feel it when he kissed me a third time. “I know. Now, do you want me to take photos of our amazing handiwork so you can see it later?”

My chest got even warmer as I let him go. “Yeah. I think that would be nice.”

By the time I had the sand washed off me and a fresh set of clothes on, I had four text messages from Thierry in my notifications. I didn’t bother to read past the first one, which was him demanding to know where we were, why we were late to the beach lunch, and when we’d be coming by.

I really did have half a mind to skip it, but doing that would leave Aravind suspicious of my motivations. Fucking him, kissing him, touching him were all the benefits to why I was here. It wasn’t meant to be the reason.

And I wasn’t sure how he’d react if he found out that these little sparks under my skin that he was causing had started to turn into burning flames of want. And not just for his body.

But for everything else he had to offer.

And for a future that I was trying my damnedest not to visualize because what the fuck would a guy like him want with someone like me?

I might not be a total sad sack of shit, but I was at least a sad, small tote bag of shit. And who would want that?

Aravind was on the pool deck with his feet in the water when I came outside. Using my phone camera, I was able to scan the yard better, especially now that clouds had rolled in to dull some of the light.

He was wearing a sort of rich purple-colored top that fell off one shoulder and jeans that he’d rolled up to the knee. He caught me looking and waved me over.

“Is it time to go?” he asked as I carefully made my way down the paved walkway. I was back in my brace, which was making it hard to walk without a cane, but I trusted Aravind wouldn’t let me fall in the water.

“We can still skip it,” I told him. “They’re probably back from the beach now, and no one is going to be in a decent mood.”

“You know I can hold my own.”

The water splashed gently as he stood up, and soon enough, he had hands at my waist. I liked the way he was always touching me and manhandling me. It wasn’t in a patronizing way—like he didn’t trust I could find my own way. It was almost like he wanted to be in contact with me for his own pleasure.

And that was something I’d never get used to.

“Well, if you really want to subject yourself to their bullshit, we can go,” I finally said.

He trailed a touch down my arm, then tangled his fingers with mine. “For PDA practice,” he said when I made an unthinking, curious noise.

I held his hand a little tighter, and we made our way to the car.

The drive wasn’t long—shorter than it felt last night and a little heavier. When he’d driven me away from the beach house, I felt free. And today, it was easier walking up the driveway with him because it no longer meant I was trapped by their schedules and their ideas and their shitty version of family obligation.

But I also wanted to be anywhere else.

“There’s no cars here,” Aravind said, stopping just before the first step that led to the front door. I tapped the edge of the step with my cane to orient myself, then frowned and turned my head.

He was right. Last night, there had been cars in the driveway and at the curb. Now, there was nothing. Pulling out my phone, I navigated to my brother’s last message and then held the phone an inch away from my eye so I could read it.

Thierry: We’re going out to a late lunch. Ollie is staying back. You can hang out with him if you want. Mom’s pissed.

With a sigh, I shoved my phone back into my pocket. “They went out for food, and there’s going to be some kind of guilt trip when they get back. But my nephew’s here if you want to hang out.”