Label Me Proud

by Stephie Walls

  “What are you staring at?” Her voice lilted light and playful and only served to amp up my desire.

  Instead of being a gentleman and complimenting the way she looked, I played the asshole-guy card to feign indifference. “Still wondering where you got that…thing.” I waved at her from head to toe and set my mouth in a thin line, hoping I appeared displeased. I was anything but.

  She scoffed. “Victoria’s Secret. You don’t like it?”

  I stared at her blankly. “I didn’t say that.”

  “No, you didn’t say anything at all.” Masyn wanted me to praise how amazing she looked standing on my pool deck. She waited for it with longing in her eyes.

  “I’ve just never seen it.”

  She tilted her chin to her chest, stared down at her flat stomach, and touched the ties on each side of her hips. “It’s new.” The soft curve of her pelvic bones strained against the bikini, and all I could think about was my hands holding her, my thumbs digging in right where those bows hung, while she rode me to a place neither one of us had ever been.

  “It’s cute.” I was such an ass.

  “Cute?” Her lips remained parted after she said the word, stunned by my description. She knew it was hot, and she wanted me to tell her so.

  My feet carried me toward her, driven by the brain in my pants—the one currently doing all my thinking. And when I reached her, I slipped my hand under her chin and tipped her head back so I could look into her eyes. “Yeah, cute.” It was far from fucking cute.

  I was in so far over my head, I was going to drown in the sight of her if I didn’t do something quickly to get my head above water. And the only thing that came to mind was tossing her over my shoulder, walking to the edge of the pool, slapping her ass, and then throwing her in. My shoulders shook as I laughed and she went under, knowing when she came up, I’d get an earful.

  The moment I saw her head break the surface, I took away her opportunity to bitch at me and did a cannonball beside her, engulfing her with water. When I tried to come up for air, her hands were on my shoulders, pressing all of her weight onto them to try to keep me under. We’d done this for years, yet even as kids when we were closer in size and weight, she’d never been able to win. Tonight was no different. And a battle of wills ensued. The game never got old—or maybe it was chasing her around the pool that kept me coming back for more. I got to touch her, hold her, tickle her, and watch her face light up, without risking my heart breaking.

  Masyn finally managed to escape to the stairs and sat there facing the pool. Her eyes shimmered with happiness, and her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. I could do this all night if that was the reward I got at the end of it.

  I loved Beau like a brother, but he’d never appreciate the little things about her: the way her nose scrunched when she thought something was gross, or the fact that she preferred jeans to dresses or barbeque to fine dining. He’d want her to change to fit into his circle—the one his family expected him to grow into. There would be no job in a machine shop, no tiny house on a mill hill, and certainly no clunker car he wouldn’t know how to fix if he had to. All the quirks that made Masyn who she was—the things I loved—would be altered. And I couldn’t let that happen without at least trying to fight for her.

  I’d never managed to tell her what I went to her house to say on Monday—not all of it, anyway. She’d been so hell-bent on telling me what she wanted me to hear that I’d let her monopolize the conversation. In the end, I might lose her and Beau both, but I wanted to know—no, I needed to know—that I’d fought for her the way she deserved to be fought for.

  The air between us was thick with desperation—although that might have just been my own—and with each step I took in the pool, the space shrunk. There was either fear or anticipation marking her expression, and come hell or high water, I was about to find out which one it was.

  The closer I got, the straighter her spine became until her entire body tensed. And when I reached the base of the underwater stairs, she didn’t stop me or ask what I was doing. She spread her knees to make room for me and welcomed me in. My hands slid up her slick thighs, and her palms grazed along my forearms. Neither of us broke eye contact, and when my fingers reached her back, I hesitated. I gave her every opportunity to ask what I was doing, to push me away, or even tell me to stop, but when she didn’t give me a signal that she didn’t want my advances, I leaned my head into hers and closed my eyes.

  The lips I’d dreamed of tasting didn’t disappoint. They were warm and full and soft, fitting perfectly against my own. And when she separated them, it was like Moses had parted the Red Sea just for me. The world stopped, the crickets didn’t chirp, and the birds didn’t sing; there was nothing other than Masyn Porter in my arms. Our tongues danced slowly, and her fingers explored my arms, her nails digging into my skin as our kiss grew deeper. My hands pulled her to me of their own accord, gliding her through the water with ease, until her center pressed firmly against me. There was no possibility she couldn’t feel how turned on I was when she locked her ankles behind my ass and wound her arms around my neck. Sparks flew through my limbs and my mouth and my tongue. Everything about her, about it, was perfect.

  Her fingers tangled in my hair, and she used her elbows on my shoulders for leverage to grind herself into my crotch, and I groaned. The kind of groan I’d only had in my dreams—and only in dreams where Masyn played the starring role. It was guttural and came from deep in my throat. She finally broke away, smiling against my lips, until she tilted her forehead to mine and sighed.

  It wasn’t a “what have I done” sound. She was content, and I was on cloud fucking nine. As much as I wanted to stay there, to do all the things I imagined to her tight little body, I realized that just days ago, Masyn told me she loved our best friend. And I’d just complicated the hell out of things for her.

  The smile lines around her eyes disappeared. “What happened?” She wasn’t referring to the kiss. “You just shut down. Was it that bad?” Masyn tried to push away, but I refused to release my hold.

  “What? No.” Still clutching her with one arm securely around her waist, I ran my other hand—shit, the one I wasn’t supposed to get wet—through my hair. I hadn’t felt the slightest bit of pain run through it, tossing her around in the pool, yet now that I’d royally fucked things up, it ached.

  She dropped her legs from my waist. “Then what?”

  “Can we get out of the pool? I’m not supposed to get the stitches wet, and I have no idea how long we’ve been in here, but my fingers are prunes.” It hadn’t seemed like we’d been outside long, but it had been long enough to screw up my hand and possibly my relationship with Masyn…even if she’d yet to protest.

  Masyn nodded, thinking I’d let her go. I wasn’t giving up that easily. When I started up the stairs and her weight shifted, she apparently realized, she could either hold on or be dragged across the porch like a limp noodle. She chose to climb my body like a monkey would a tree and let me carry her inside, leaving a trail of water behind us. I hadn’t bothered putting more towels in the box on the porch, so I kept going through the sliding glass door and down the hall past Masyn’s room and into mine. Her skin prickled with goose bumps in the cool air inside the house, but she didn’t protest the chill.

  We reached my bathroom, and I turned on the shower. As soon as the water warmed, I stepped in, careful to keep my hand out of the stream. I finally set her down, but I didn’t let her go far. Not that she tried to get away. Instead, she slowly slid her hand from the back of my neck to my jaw and cupped it. There was hunger in her gaze, and I wanted to quench her appetite. Our mouths met again in another paralyzing kiss. When we broke free, she grabbed the bar of soap and a washcloth and scrubbed away the chlorine from my skin, and I did the same with her.

  She turned off the water and grabbed a towel for me and two for her—one for her hair and one for her body. I’d hoped for something more romantic or maybe even erotic but no such luck. Peering at
her while trying not to be caught doing so, I watched with envy as each drop of water trailed her skin.

  And then in some magic twist of feminine power, she managed to release both pieces of that damn bikini without touching the towel that hid her body. She picked up the swimsuit off the floor and hung it over the towel bar, and then lifted onto her tiptoes to place the sweetest kiss on my lips before she left. I assumed she went to put on clothes, so I did the same, and then I attempted to assess my stitches. They appeared okay, but I guess I’d find out tomorrow—or in the middle of the night if the wound came open and oozed blood.

  I was still in my room when she returned. Her long, dark hair flowed down her back, and she’d put on a tank top and tiny-ass shorts I’d always loved. It wasn’t anything different than what she always wore, but somehow, everything about it seemed new. Masyn crawled onto my mattress, and I didn’t ask any questions when I flipped off the light and joined her.

  Just like Monday night, she lifted my arm and curled up next to me. But unlike Monday night when she’d gone to sleep, tonight her fingers circled my bare chest and stomach in a teasing dance. Her hand was highlighted by the glow of the moon seeping through the blinds. I tried to look down to see her face, but the top of her head blocked my view. I’d give my left nut to know what she was thinking. Just stepping inside her mind and her thoughts for a few minutes might put mine at ease.

  “Does this change things between us?” Her voice was tiny in the large room, and if I hadn’t been listening for it, the darkness would have swallowed it.

  I stroked her hair, praying that the answer to my next question was what I hoped to hear. “Do you want it to?”

  The silence between my last word and her answer went on for an eternity, although it was likely less than half a minute. Her cheek tickled my skin when she nodded against my chest, and her unwillingness to look at me filled me with anxiety. There wasn’t a lot of light in the room, and even the moon seemed to have left us to ourselves, temporarily hidden by a cloud. The light she’d left on down the hall crept through a crack in the partially open door, and my eyes began to adjust so I could see her when I pulled back. Lifting her chin with my finger, I prayed for a positive sign when her face came into view, yet all I could focus on were the tears lining her eyes.

  “Why are you crying?” I brushed my thumb under one of her eyes to erase the pool of moisture. A few drops dribbled over my stitches.

  Masyn didn’t answer at first. Instead, she lifted one shoulder, then let it drop in mock indifference. She bit her lip, avoided my gaze, then finally said, “I…I just didn’t—you don’t—I never thought…” Her words were lost in emotion she couldn’t contain.

  I shifted my weight, rolled her over onto her back, and hovered above her while propped on my elbows. “Talk to me.” I pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, hoping it would make the words come easier. And sway them in my favor. “Please.”

  She hid her face again and muttered against my chest. “I already told you how I felt.”

  Every fiber of my being tensed and her body followed mine. “About Beau?” It wasn’t really a question so much as a statement confirming we were talking about the same thing.

  Masyn sat up like someone had slapped her and pushed me over onto my side in the process. “Beau? Who’s talking about Beau?” If the situation had been any different, the glare she shot me would have been adorable.

  As it stood, it only served to confuse me. “You are—did. Monday night when I came to your house.” I sat up so I could see her face and watch her expressions. So much of what she said was hidden in the lines around her mouth and the crinkle of her nose—and not seeing it could result in missing her meaning.

  “I admit, I don’t remember everything I said when you came over, but I wasn’t talking about Beau Chastain. Gross. He wears tweed and drives a sedan.”

  If she wasn’t talking about Beau, then I clearly misunderstood everything she’d said. “You asked me if I knew how hard it was to be friends with one guy you loved and one you adored. I specifically asked if you were talking about Beau.”

  I leaned back and turned on the lamp next to my bed. The darkness was like a blindfold, and my heart desperately wanted to see.

  “No…I told you it was hard to talk to my best friend through signals—the special text messages to let me know if it was safe to have a conversation. I don’t know how you misunderstood that.” She acted like everything she’d said had been clear as glass when, in actuality, it was as transparent as mud.

  I chuckled…which pissed her off.

  She swatted at me, and I flinched. “Don’t laugh at me. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to admit that to you? Even drunk, it was a stupid chance to take.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m not laughing at you, I’m—”

  “And don’t do that. I don’t want to be another one of your girls. I want to be the girl.” She straightened her spine and pulled her shoulders back in defiance.

  I propped myself up against the pillows on the headboard and then leaned forward, grabbing her by the waist. As much as I wanted to see her face, she was embarrassed and flustered, and I preferred her to be comfortable, so that she actually heard what I was about to say. I nestled her between my legs with her back to my front and then wrapped my arms around her chest. She let her head drop to my shoulder and held onto my forearms, melting into my embrace.

  “Have you ever heard me call anyone else sweetheart?”

  “All the time.” I didn’t have to see her expression to know she was pouting, and it shouldn’t have made me happy, but it did.

  “You’ve never heard me call anyone, not even a child, sweetheart. You may have heard hon, or darlin’, or possibly even babe, but not one time, in all my life, have I ever called anyone other than you, sweetheart. And I know I haven’t because you’re the only person who’s ever held that place in my heart.”

  My grip was too tight for her to turn to argue with me, even though she tried. My arms were like a boa constrictor; when she created any space between us, I took the chance to bring her closer until there was no wiggle room remaining.

  “Lee…” My name flowed from her mouth like warm honey mixed with melted butter.

  “I came to your house Monday to talk to you—”

  “I know. You wanted to know why I had avoided you.”

  “True, but I also came to tell you something else. Something I should have told you in tenth grade. And I got part of it out when you were bitching about Peyton, and then you started rambling about Beau.”

  She turned her head without moving her body, determined to illustrate a point. “I wasn’t talking about Beau, Lee.”

  I loosened my grip and allowed her to curl her side into my chest with her back against my bicep. My heart raced, and I stared into her eyes, trying to be certain I’d just heard her right.

  I couldn’t take in enough air.

  My lungs wouldn’t fill, and I worried I’d faint before I told her what I needed to say.

  If I didn’t get out the words I’d been dying to say for six years, it felt like my insides might combust, and I’d miss my chance. There’d been too many wasted opportunities and too many days that had passed without her knowing my heart belonged to her, and it always had.

  Rather than a drawn-out explanation, or tiptoeing into the actual confession, I just spit it out. “I love you, Masyn. Since that day in the lunchroom, there hasn’t been a piece of me that didn’t belong to you.”

  It would have been too much to hope that Masyn simply returned the sentiment. Nope, she had to analyze it. “Then why all the other girls?”

  I laughed. At some point, all of this was going to come out. I’d told her the hardest part, and she hadn’t shut me down; now I had to convince her of the truth. “What other girls?”

  “Really?” She rolled her eyes. “Remember when we talked about you being an easy lay?”

  “I remember you telling me what was good for a goose was a gander.” I needed to
keep this from getting heavy. I couldn’t bear seeing her crying as I relived my past through her eyes.

  “What does that mean? It doesn’t even make sense.”

  “You said it. I thought it was quite appropriate. A goose does need a gander.”

  “Moving on. Last Friday, you got overly offended because I said you were an easy lay. Those are all the women I’m talking about. If you’ve had these feelings for me since tenth grade, why make sure I knew every time you dropped your pants for another girl? Did you think it would open my eyes to what I was missing and make me want you more? ’Cause I got to tell you, I didn’t like it all that much.”

  “After the scene with Alex our sophomore year, you shut down, Masyn. I’m not blaming you. I’m just saying you made it clear that you weren’t interested in dating.”

  “Yeah, assholes.”

  “In my defense, you never stipulated that part.”

  “I assumed it was understood.”

  “I’m a guy. We need clear-cut instructions, not innuendo and assumptions.”

  “You’re avoiding the question.”

  “No, I’m giving you an answer you don’t want to hear. You didn’t want to date anyone. And I didn’t want you to date anyone. You were my best friend—and Beau’s—and I just wanted to make sure no one ever hurt you that way again.”

  “And you thought parading various girls around in front of me was the way to pave the yellow brick road to my heart?”

  “Honestly, I didn’t think about it at all. I don’t think I really knew what I felt was love. Hell, we were sixteen. And over the years, you’ve never shown the slightest bit of interest in anything other than friendship.”