Page 73 of Yard Sale

But I didn’t think handing power to Tiago would end the same way. Even if this didn’t become anything real.

“Your hair is very long,” Tiago murmured as we lay on the beach.

It was near dusk, and the stars were starting to come out. I had my camera set up to take some timed shots because out here without streetlights, I could see the arm of our galaxy.

Tiago was curled up against me, playing with my hair, which I had finally let down. His fingers were tender and careful as they toyed with each lock, tracing the length from my scalp to the ends.

“I don’t like to cut it,” I told him. “My parents used to make me when I was little, and I would cry until I threw up.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

I hated that he apologized for everything all the time, even if it was more often than not meant in sympathy.

“When I was in middle school, they finally quit fighting me about it. They said as long as I learned to take care of it, they wouldn’t make me cut it anymore. It became kind of an obsession of mine.” By high school, I had several dozen silk bonnets and an entire array of products to keep my soft half waves in order.

Most of my spending money had gone to indulging in what made me feel good, and I had no regrets about it. For as rich as we were, my parents didn’t freely give me cash to do things like movies and shopping with my friends, so I sacrificed a lot on myself.

And maybe if I’d had better, more understanding friends, I would have made different choices.

But most of them were long gone, and I still remained.

“It was one of the first things I noticed about you,” he said softly. He toyed with the baby hairs on the back of my neck that never seemed to get any longer. “It was all up in a bun and kind of messy. There were pieces that had fallen around your face and…” He went quiet, and I didn’t ask him to finish his sentence.

Instead, I turned into him and kissed him, slow and soft, keeping the same rhythm of the waves that were lapping at the shore.

“We should build a fire,” he said. “And maybe we can play out here.”

“I’m assuming you don’t mean sandcastles,” I whispered. My dick was already getting on board, thickening in my shorts.

He laughed and kissed me again. “I don’t mean sandcastles this time.”

Groaning, I reached down and cupped him, and oh, he was hard too. “Okay. Start digging a pit, and I’m going to run up to the house for some wood and kindling.” There were a couple of beach fire kits in the deck storage container. “When I get back, I’m going to suck your dick, but I’m not going to let you come.”

He grunted softly. “Oh.”

“I’m going to make you so fucking desperate for it, and maybe—after we shower and get into bed, if you’re very, very good for me—I’ll let you jerk off on my panty-covered dick.”

“Fuck,” he gasped. He kissed me again, rocking his erection against my thigh. “Aravind.”

The way he said my name like a fucking psalm was going to stick in my head for the rest of my life. No one would ever measure up. How could they?

“Be right back,” I whispered.

It took real effort to pull away from him, and each step in the sand felt heavier and heavier. But the time it took to get everything would be worth it. He was worth it. And I was starting to think that maybe I should tell him that.

Maybe I should let him know that, pretend or not, this was starting to mean something and…and god. Maybe we could talk about it.

My breath hitched as I made my way up the hill and across the pool deck, and I was just reaching for the lid to the storage container when I saw movement in the house. Panic dashed up my spine, but before I could do something wild, like rush into the kitchen and grab a knife, the porch light flickered on, and a familiar face appeared in the window.

Soma looked the same as she had last year—her hair in a tight braid down her back, her eyes bright, smile even brighter. She was in loose blue linen pants and a matching top, and the fabric fluttered in the breeze when she threw the door open and flung herself into my arms.

“Oh my god, look at you! You’re so thin,” she immediately started bitching. “I swear you’ve been starving yourself. I told your dad you needed a meal service, and of course he didn’t listen. He’s so American now…”

“Auntie.” She gave me the look for interrupting her. Leaning in, I kissed her cheek. “We’ve been cooking all week.”

“We?” she asked and shook her head. “That hockey player your dad said you brought home? The blind one, right? Where is he?”

Oh, fuck. He was on the beach, horny as hell, waiting for me to come down there and edge his dick and balls with my mouth until he was crying. This was an unexpected development.