by Cassie Mae
“All right,” I say, fixing the helmet. “I think you’re all set.” I wave to the camera, and her shoulders move in silent laughter.
“Will you record out here with your phone?” she asks. “So I get different angles.”
“If you don’t mind an old IOS doing the job.” I forgot to bring my camcorder. Next time, for sure.
“Nope.” She pushes off the ground and onto her board so fluidly that I fall even more in love with her and she doesn’t even know it.
Before my mind completely sidetracks, I turn on the camera on my phone. “You want to practice a bit first or just start recording?”
“Just go,” she calls back to me. The lights aren’t camera ready yet, but that’s okay. “I need as much footage as possible.”
I click the red button and hop into the trick zone. I got a good angle here of the half-pipe when she gets to it, and for now I can shoot her doing the minor ollies and grinds.
She owns the course, like she always does, gliding smoothly across each surface and clicking up on the tricks with perfect form. If I had my Sony, I’d zoom in on her Vans, catching each grain in her old board. It’d let those judges know just how good she is, given the equipment she’s got. Imagine her on some fancy schmancy sponsored board. Gah, she’d be flying.
“You want me to edit the footage for you?” I offer. Editing is the bane of my existence, and the sole reason I haven’t uploaded any of the videos I have piled up on flash drives. But the way she’s riding tonight has got my creative brain going. I could cut her GoPro footage with this grainy wide shot and put it to some killer music. I can already see it all, hear it all…
“You are a lifesaver!” she calls out to me as she swoops to the top of the half-pipe. Her chest lifts as she fills it with much needed air, her cheeks puffing as she exhales through her circle-formed lips. She nods twice to herself before dropping in, keeping her tricks simple and safe until she’s in a groove.
“Damn,” I whisper, then snap my lips shut. The camera will pick up my awe, but that’s easily removable when I put in the soundtrack. The lights finally flicker to full capacity right as she lands a fakie. There’s only one that’s still struggling. The bulb’s probably about ready to die.
She runs the course after about ten minutes, cooling down. No real tricks other than an ollie here and there. When she’s done, she pushes to the center of the half-pipe, kicks her board into her hands, and plops to her butt right there.
“Whew!” she exhales with a grin as bright as the fluorescents above us. She falls to her back, and her arm flops to her side. Her palm slaps the spot next to her, and I cut the camera and take the hint.
“Incredible,” I say as I lie next to her. The flickering light is right above us now. “I can’t wait to see what this guy caught.” I tap the GoPro sitting on her head, and almost like she forgot it was there, her eyes widen, and she lets out a breathy laugh. She reaches up and wriggles out of the helmet, letting her hair fall onto the half-pipe floor and spread across her shoulders.
Damn, she’s gorgeous.
“You’re gorgeous.”
“Huh?”
My heart stops. “Uh… nothing.” That was a close one.
The corner of her mouth lifts, and she settles her helmet on her stomach. She turns the power off on the camera, then lets her finger slide over the protective covering.
“Before we get into my drama, can I ask you something?”
I drop my phone onto my stomach and settle a hand under my head. “Go for it.”
“Are you… like… okay?”
My brow furrows, and I give her a confused grin. “Uh, yeah…”
Her head shakes in one sharp motion, and she briefly shuts her eyes. “I meant with Candace. The engagement and all.”
I jerk back from the sideways punch of a question. I haven’t thought about Candace in that way in so long it’s hard to think that I did. She was cute and entertaining to work with, and I wanted a shot at taking her out, holding her hand, kissing her goodnight… much like I want with any girl I fall for.
But now, especially after truly falling for someone, I see how empty that attraction was. Candace is too set in her ways. Sure, Pete can get her to give in a little, meet him halfway, but I have no patience for that. We would’ve been a disaster, and my heart would’ve been left even more broken.
Also, now that she’s my boss, I’m a little scared of her.
A chuckle pops from deep in my gut, and I stare at that dying light above us. “Your brother’s been dating Candace for over a year.”
“I know.”
“So I’m good, Brink. I got over Candace a long time ago.” I roll my head to lock eyes with her. “But thanks for looking out.”
She lifts a shoulder. “You’re always checking on my mental state. Thought I’d return the favor for once.”
“Speaking of…” I let my hand fall between our bodies, trying to ignore the pops that zap each arm hair on its end. “You said something about drama?”
She rumbles her lips and shakes her head at the ceiling. “You sure you want to hear?”
“Hit me with it.” I want to hear anything and everything that runs through her gorgeous mind.
Her shoulders lift as she takes a deep inhale. Her words sputter out on the exhale, her eyes locked on the flickering bulb above us. “I was completely ambushed at dinner tonight. My parents, Dem, and even Pete all came at me.”
“About…?”
“Pete’s moving out after he gets married. I mean, obviously. And my dad’s getting cleaned up. Mom says she’ll look for work…” She taps her fingers against the helmet sitting on her stomach. “They don’t think I can do it without Pete’s help.”
“Do what? Take care of Dem?”
She nods, her eyes falling closed. She eases out a shaky breath through puckered lips. “They want Dem to move back home.”
Shit.
Mad’s family is at the top of her passions, followed closely by boarding and Star Wars. I watch her as she struggles to keep her shit together, trembling from the effort to keep her tears from falling, her fists from punching something, her feet from running. I want to reach out and hold her steady, let her know she can break apart with me, and I’ll do my best to catch all the pieces and put them back together.
But I stay where I am, too terrified to reach for her. “Wait… Pete, too?” Pete was a major player in getting Dem out of the house in the first place, away from their toxic parents.
“Y-yeah,” she says, a crack in her voice. She traces the design on her helmet with her pointer finger, still trembling. “He actually proposes the idea, with some caveats, of course.”
“Such as?”
“My dad has to be clean for two months and attend the addiction meetings, and my mom has to have a job before Dem can live with them again.”
“And what did you say to all this?”
She lets out a humorless laugh and rolls her head to me. “What do you think? I said nothing. Absolutely nada. I don’t stir the pot; I just eat whatever they put in front of me.”
Confusion pulls at my brow, but I don’t ask her to elaborate. “And Dem… what does she want?”
“That’s the worst part.” She juts her gaze away from me again, focusing hard on her helmet as she continues to trace around every bump in the design. “I thought for sure she’d want to stay with me. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s been good… happy, I think.” She shakes her head, her bottom lip trembling. “But she wants back home, too. She said she wanted out before Pete leaves.”
My heart cracks in half for her, and I push past my fear of moving too soon, too fast, and I scoot an inch closer, pressing my shoulder up against hers. My fingers twitch near her hip, but her arm is bent at the elbow, and she’s got a hand locked on her helmet. Terror freezes me from holding it, but it won’t stop my tongue from doing its best to make things better.
“Did you ask her why?”
“Huh?” she asks, her breath catching as sh
e twists, noticing how close we’ve become.
“Did you ask Demi why she wants to move in with your parents?”
She shakes her head, and the corner of my mouth lifts.
“Maybe you should.”
“What if I don’t want to know why?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” I softly nudge her. “She might be doing exactly what you do.”
“Which is…”
“Being selfless.”
She snorts, and though a rogue tear slips and runs over her cheek, her smile is beyond beautiful. “How do you figure?”
“Maybe she’s noticed a little bit of worry in her big sis.” I give her a knowing look. “She could be doing this for you, not as a way to rebel against you.”
I watch the thought run through her head behind her hazel eyes. I watch as it takes root and sparks a flame of hope. It’s enough to get a small grin from her.
“I think you’re my personal Obi Wan,” she says. Her hand falls from her helmet, landing centimeters away from mine. “Thank you.”
It’s so hard not to kiss her when she looks at me like this. Her smile is so soft, her eyes lit up like a lighthouse signaling me home. I want to crash right into her, even when I know I should steer clear.
The back of her hand taps mine, and my fingers itch to tangle up in hers. The loose, leather bracelet on her wrist tickles my skin, making my arm bubble with goosebumps.
I take a deep breath, holding it in, afraid that if I let it out, she’ll disappear, like all the other times I’ve imagined her this close.
I’ve watched her do so many things on this half-pipe. Axle stalls and drop-ins. The nose pick and the rock’n’roll. She’s spun my world around with her board, but not a single one of those tricks touches the fascination I have with her now, resting on her back in a bed of her long, dark hair, her helmet sitting on top of her stomach. Her fringed graphic tee inches up just enough to show off her bottom two abs, the button of her shorts catching the lights above us, including the flickering bulb that’s on its last leg.
The wrinkle between her brows that seemed permanent washed away during our conversation, and a dip of warm pride spreads through my chest. It’s a privilege to be that person for her—the guy to take her away from her stress.
Her forefinger reaches out, stroking my knuckle. I swallow hard, wanting to accept the invitation but scared stiff at the thought of actually doing it.
“Tanner?” she says, snagging my attention from our hands to her eyes.
“Hmm?”
The corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly. The dying light above us gives out, plunging us in further shadows.
“You can hold my hand.”
Oh how I want to hold her hand. “I… can’t.”
“Why?”
Because I have a tendency to fall too hard and too fast, and if I hold her hand, I know I’m gonna want to kiss her and hold her, and I probably won’t ever let her go…. and if I say it all out loud, I’ll freak her the hell out.
I’m silent for too long, unable to articulate an excuse to keep my distance, and an amused-slash-frustrated growl escapes her lips. She drops her helmet to the floor of the half-pipe, the clatter of it echoing around us. My heart beats like a hummingbird’s wings as she rises to her elbow, her hair falling like a curtain, shutting us into even further privacy.
I’m frozen… petrified. Her eyes skate over my face, and I’m a hundred percent sure I look like a guppy. I don’t want to think about past girls right now, but my brain invites them in, anyway, all their voices swirling around up there. If I pull Mad in, I’ll scare her away. If I squeeze her hand any tighter, I’ll suffocate her. If I tell her that she has become my entire world, I might as well say goodbye to any future I could’ve had with her.
My lips slightly part, and jagged, shallow breaths exit as I try to get some oxygen up to my brain. Maybe wash all those voices out of there.
Her eyes flick to my bent elbow, to the hand that’s tucked under my head as a pillow. She tilts her head, a smile curling her lips. She lets out a sigh and boldly reaches across my body.
“Well, I want to hold your hand.” Her touch ignites a fire under my skin, yet chills run up and down my spine. She yanks my arm free, and my head thunks against the half-pipe, and she lets out the most adorable tinkle of a laugh while I give a Goofy-like hiyuck. My breathing and my heart both stop simultaneously as her fingers slide through mine, and she rests our locked hands on my chest.
“Was that so hard?” she asks. The arrogance in her grin is equally hilarious and cute.
I don’t trust my voice not to crack like a thirteen-year-old, so I just shake my head, begging my lips to return her smile.
Silent laughter shakes her body, and she’s so close that her shirt tickles up and down my side. My thumb slides across hers, and she’ll probably have no idea how much effort it took for me to give such a simple action. Even that scares my forced grin from my face, worry replacing it. Will that small stroke of affection show her just how much I love her? Will that love terrify her?
Her gaze drops to our hands, and there’s a smile resting in her hazel irises. Relief that I didn’t screw this moment up washes over me, and I allow my thumb to continue running up and down hers, tripping over her knuckle and gliding back to her nail. She has such rough hands. Worn. Like she’s carried far too much weight for most of her life. Her nails are bitten down, her fingers are naked… not a single piece of jewelry. There are calluses on her forefinger, the skin toughened from grabbing her board over and over. I love that she’s so perfectly Mad. I could find her hand in the dark, differentiate it from any other person in the world.
“Can I ask you something?” she says, her voice cutting through my thoughts.
“Hmm?”
“Don’t make fun of me if I’m way off, though.”
My brows push inward, and I beg my voice to work without cracking. “O-okay.” Damn it.
She sucks in a heavy breath, letting her shoulders lift to her ears and drop with the exhale. “Do you like me?”
My eyes bulge from their sockets. Well, this wasn’t how I pictured telling her. And I have no idea how I’m supposed to answer. Hell yes, I like her. Of course. That’s obvious. But is it obvious just how much? That I’m a hundred percent in love. How do I tell her that?
Shit, she’s starting to panic. Her brows pull in, and she shuts her eyes briefly and shakes her head hard, like she wants to take it back. Her hand is even starting to slide out from mine.
“Forget it,” she rushes out. “What a stupid thing to ask, you know? This is like a conversation Demi would have at her age, not me… And I’m probably like an older sister to you, and I just… Luke was just… He said…” She shakes her head hard again and sits up, her hand falling from mine. She hides her face in her palms. “Forget it,” she says again.
No.
Nonono. She was right here in my grasp, and I won’t let her believe all of those excuses to let go, especially since none of them are accurate.
I push to my butt and face her. Past Tanner needs to come out right now and quiet all these voices in my head that tell me Mad doesn’t want to hear the truth.
“Hey,” I croak, then clear my throat. I tap on her forearm, nudging her to stop covering her face. When her hands fall, her skin is the most gorgeous color of pink… deeper than after a long run on the course. I don’t know why, but it makes me laugh. It rises deep from my gut and shakes my whole body. Her eyes narrow, and she playfully shoves me.
“I told you not to make fun!”
“I’m not,” I reassure her, relief washing my terror from my body. Her embarrassment is so… relatable, human, and exactly how I feel. My brain finally quiets and allows my body to do what I’ve wanted it to, damn the consequences.
I reach out and tap her chin, urging her to look at me. Her skin is warm, and I don’t know if it’s from her boarding or just from this conversation. Either way, I like it.
“You aren’t totally off,
” I say, using her phrasing.
“I’m not?”
I shake my head, biting away the entire truth and giving her just enough. “You are definitely not like a sister. I mean so far from a sister to me. That thought is on Jupiter for me. Nah… even farther. Like the moon. Or Pluto. What’s the farthest thing?”
She laughs, shaking her head at her lap. “I get it.”
“Good.” My smirk slightly fades, and I dig up the courage to ask, “Do you like me?”
I’m a chickenshit for throwing it back at her… for not making a move until I know. But given my track record, I’m gonna give myself a break for once.
Her eyes soften, and her gaze skates over my body, almost like she’s studying a new course before hopping on.
When her eyes meet mine again, a wicked gleam rests just beyond hazel in her irises. Before I know what’s happening, she pushes to her knees. She throws a leg over my body and slowly rests in my lap. Her hands sear my jawline, her fingers curling into the hair at the nape of my neck. She reels me in as easily as she handles a simple drop-in.
Her hot breath hits my lips, and she stops, leaving me in heart-thumping agony.
“Tanner?”
I answer with a froggy croak that makes her whole body chuckle against me.
“I like you a lot.”
She gives me a sweet smile before closing the gap between our lips.
Tanner’s hair is so friggin soft. I seriously want to tangle my fingers all up in it till the end of time.
His hands, which have been stone still for at least a full minute, finally lift from the half-pipe and hold my hips. His fingers tickle the skin right above my shorts, making me laugh in the middle of our kiss, but it doesn’t stop us.
He’s been such a rock for me, and he’s that way now… solid and safe. He’s so careful in his movements, almost like he’s afraid I’ll break if he holds me too tight. He should know by now I’m one tough dudette. Just to prove it, I push him to his back, trapping his arms against the floor of the half-pipe. My hair falls against his face, and he spits it from his lips.
“Whoops. I was going for sexy, but this darn hair…” I pile it on top of my head, using my bracelet as a hair tie. I rarely wear it up—doesn’t fit under my helmet.
