First Love (Winning at Love Book 2) Page 12
“Eastlyn. You know me better than that. I’d never…”
“No, you’d ‘never’. Not until you did. Never intentionally. I know you wouldn’t mean to hurt her.” She pauses. “Come on, Keat, you’re nineteen. You’ve never had a real girlfriend, only a blur of randos and one-night stands. You are nowhere ready to be the man Kam deserves. You heard her, Keaton. She sees you as her fucking ‘ending’, has you on this pedestal. That’s fucking major, deep-seated feelings and emotions and whatnot. Ones I’m not sure you can handle. So, no. Not until you can prove you can be what she deserves. I might be being a bitch right now, but at least I won’t lose either of you when you break her heart.”
“Nice, East. Thanks a fucking lot for the vote of confidence,” I say back.
“I’m not trying to hurt you, Keat. I’m trying to help. Stand here and tell me, if it was Coy and me what you would do? Huh?” she challenges, and she’s right.
I’d say the same fucking thing to my best friend, “You’re not worthy of my sister’s heart”.
“Give it time. If you really think your feelings for her are the kind that will last forever, then I’ll feel differently when I see you proving it by your actions. But you’re not ready for right now, big brother. Sorry.”
“Are you?”
“I’m not saying you’re not good enough, Keaton, don’t misconstrue my intentions. I’m saying you’re not ready yet. There is a huge difference.”
“Whatever,” is my only reply. I turn away, hurt, and ready to get the hell away from my sister. And I’m pissed. But worst of all, I get it. My sister isn’t wrong. In fact, it’s true that I’m not worthy of Kami Sutherland. I’m just some punk with a hard-on for his little sister’s best friend, and I’m pretty positive she’s just perfection looking at a dead end if she thinks I’m anywhere good enough to ever be the person she’s willing to share her ending with.
“I’m sorry Keaton. Don’t be mad at me,” my sister whispers, trying to grasp my hand. I pull away churlishly.
“I’m not.” I’m mad at myself for even thinking that Kami could ever be anything more than a friend. There would be too many repercussions if things were to go wrong. And knowing me, they probably would. “Anyway, I just came up to see if you guys wanted to come sit by the fire with us. Come on down if you do,” I say, ending the conversation.
“Sure, we’ll be right there. I was about to run downstairs anyway for some chips mom’s got stashed in the basement.”
“Perfect. McCoy’s down there, on the phone. Tell him to get his ass outside, too. Meet you guys out there,” I say, before bolting.
As I lie in bed later that night, my mind reels, working double-time, trying to process and compartmentalize these new feelings, this new information. I’ve always been drawn to Kami, yet deep down I guess I must have known I wasn’t good enough for her. Not like this, not the way I am. A so-called player, with aspirations to pursue my art, over becoming some stiff in a business suit. Yes, thinking everything over, it becomes abundantly clear—I’m not destined to be anyone’s end-of-all-time-happily-ever-after-guy. Instead, I’m the dead-end kind. That’s the kind of “ending” I am.
The next morning, I wake up with a new resolve. Things are about to change. I’m a man with a plan. I’ll start by treading more lightly around Kami. Curb any comments or behaviours she might mistake as flirting. Then I’ll start bringing girls around, and let her see “Keaton the Player” firsthand. In fact, I’m ready to work overtime to prove to Kami how wrong she’d been about me, how naïve. Really show her how I was never going to be even nearly good enough for her. That should scare her off.
The goal is now clear.
I will let Kami see me in the same slightly-slanted light in which my sister so clearly saw me. In good conscience, I can never allow Kami Sutherland to see me as something I would never deserve to be.
Hers.
17
Death by Spandex
Keaton
“She’s trying to kill me,” I mumble, as I approach the cobblestone walkway leading to Kami’s front porch, where I see her waiting for me.
She looks fucking edible. My eyes train on her as I take tentative steps forward. I can’t find my voice, and I can’t look away, either. The sun is shining, the grass still has that dewy sheen, and the floral scent of the warm weather permeates the air. None of that matters, though, because all I can see is Kami. Kami and those long, toned legs of hers coupled with that incredibly fine ass—the same ass currently up and facing me in some kind of downward dog pose or some shit that makes my dick hard as steel. I watch, rooted in place.
She’s all wrapped up in an outfit I’ve never seen before. Dumbfounded, I remain speechless as Kam continues to stretch her lithe body, preparing for our run. Up she reaches, then down she bends, hands gripping her ankles as she folds herself in half. Damn, that’s a fine ass, one I’d like to…
No. Do not go there, I scold, not allowing myself to finish that particular train of thought. Nothing good can come from thinking that type of shit. I’ve spent enough time this week with my head all fucked up, going back and forth, trying to sort out the voices in my head. Even if, as of late, my sister seems to be changing her tune where Kami and I are concerned, Eastlyn’s warnings about staying away from Kami over the years pop in my head and remind me why Kam and I should still only be friends.
“You are nowhere ready to be the man Kam deserves…”
“Too many oats to sow…”
“You’ll hurt her…”
“You’re not ready to settle…”
“Kami’s too sweet…she’s not like the others…”
“Maybe when you’re serious…”
“She’s my best friend…”
Despite the shit I give Eastlyn, I respect my sister, and wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardize our relationship. I might test the boundaries by doing things like “forgetting” to order her favourite drink and helping McCoy to win her heart, but I’d never do anything to hurt her. And if I were to hurt her best friend? I know that would devastate Eastlyn. So, even today, all these years later, I hesitate. There’s a seed of doubt in me which worries that I’m still too much of an asshole to be able to man up and be worthy of her.
But the flirting and subtle touches (like when our arms accidentally brush, or we sit side by side at breakfast and our thighs rub together) and the late-night texting are becoming not only more frequent but also a lot more transparent. And a hell of a lot harder to ignore. We may agree to let each other off the hook when those texts take a weird turn by telling the other to “pretend this never happened” and giving each other an out, but it doesn’t mean all is forgotten. To be honest, I can no longer ignore the kernel of what is obviously growing between Kami and me. It’s getting tougher the older we get for me not to acknowledge what’s been in front of me all along. I have feelings for Kami. Strong ones. I keep thinking that despite my best efforts to prevent it, maybe it’s time to let our kernel pop—or better yet, explode.
Maybe it’s time to prove to my stubborn-and-overprotective-heart-in-the-right-place-cockblocking-pain-in-the-ass sister that she was wrong? That I am—and always have been—worthy of Kami? Maybe it’s time to prove to everyone, including myself, how her heart is—and always will be—safe in my hands.
But the question remains: does Kami Sutherland still want me, too? A part of me thinks she might; I mean, I heard her admit it years ago. Then again, Eastlyn hasn’t made it easy on her, either. I assume she’s warned Kami against me, that East’s told both of us stories about the other, like what was going on in each other’s dating lives. That had been information I’d never wanted to hear, listening to stories about the jerks Kami would date supremely pissed me off. And my sister knew it, yet couldn’t seem to help herself. Or maybe she was doing it on purpose? More so lately, too. As if she figured I still needed warning off, needed to picture Kam with some asshole, or hear about Eastlyn and Kami’s plans to go pick up.
Fuck m
e. I need to sort my shit out and fast. I wipe my hands down my face, thankful Kami hasn’t made me as a fucking creep yet.
My biggest hurdle isn’t even my sister. It’s really the idea that if I fuck things up on the romantic front, I’ll end up destroying one of the best things I’ve got going in my life—my friendship with Kami. I know deep down my sister now approves of the idea of me and Kami together. She just needs to make sure I know I’m ready to be a good man. Am I?
My eyes shift, once again trailing over Kam’s body as she continues her pre-run stretches.
Fucking perfection. What I wouldn’t give to trace her tight body with my tongue, to taste the saltiness of her skin dancing on my tastebuds. Jesus. I give my head a shake, and will my legs to push me forward. I’ve been standing here in plain sight in the middle of the yard, drooling, my tongue rolled out of my goddamn mouth like some cartoon character. Then she turns, giving me a glimpse of her side profile, and I almost balk. God, the outfit she’s wearing…
…wait.
What the hell is she wearing?
Oh, hell no.
Can I even run with her looking like this?
My dick concurs, I’m rock hard. I shift awkwardly, so I can adjust myself under my shorts before Kami turns and faces me. I can’t keep my eyes from honing in on her perky tits, and the way they bounce. My cock jumps, dying to break free, twitching and stirring, ready to say “hello” with an enthusiasm to rival that of the most-acclaimed Walmart greeter.
I almost want to turn and go; too bad my brain has short-circuited. Instead, my eyes take a full inventory of what’s in front of me. Tight, cropped-at-the-calf pants. Spandex. With a pattern that has my eyes focused on cataloguing its shapes, shifting to appreciate the angles of her hips, ass, thighs, and calves. Pink stripes run down the outside of her legs against the multicoloured material, and have my eyes raging an internal battle of where to look and linger the longest.
I can’t decide where to focus…I’m a greedy bastard who wants to see it all.
This is the shit I’m talking about. Friends do not lust after their friends. I need to check myself before I fuck up and possibly lose the only girl I’ve ever really cared about by crossing a line I’m struggling to be sure should be crossed. Fuck, I can’t decide if I should blur the lines, or ignore them completely.
“Hey! You’re here,” Kami calls, looking down at me from her spot on the porch.
I smile, about to greet her back, but then she grins at me, cutting off my words and stealing all my thoughts. My breath leaves me as she slays me with a smile so radiant and so damn Kami that it melts away any of the doubts I was having. How could you not want that directed at you every single day?
Her face lights up, her eyes dancing with happiness as they land on me and she takes me in. She licks her lips as her eyes regard me, and I wonder if she even notices how blatant she’s being or the fact I’ve caught her? My eyes shift off her gorgeous face, dipping down of their own volition, checking her out once again as I step closer and closer to where she’s waiting for me, standing on the blue-stained porch we all painted a month ago. I see her lips moving as she motions for me to come up the stairs to join her, yet I hear nothing but that whoosh and the sound of my own heart beating. I’m working overtime to keep a moan that’s on the tip of my tongue from escaping in appreciation.
McCoy’s words once again infiltrate my thoughts: “Keat. Enough bullshit. It’s time to get that ugly mug of yours out of your ass. Time to see what’s in front of you, man. Don’t be like me. Don’t waste any more time.”
Wisps of blonde hair fall from the knot on the top of her head and frame her beautiful face, like it does when she wears it up. As she continues to talk, I see a line of worry forming across her brow at my silence. Too bad I still can’t seem to find my voice, because all I can focus on are her tits. They spill out of the hot-pink sports bra thing she’s wearing, and she’s inching closer to me. She takes a step down off the porch towards me, which makes her breasts bounce and jiggle, even under the tight fabric. I’ve lost all my ability to adult, to even human. Kami is now two steps above me, so we’re face to face.
And still I say nothing. I’m motionless, mute, mesmerized. Her hand reaches out and lands on my biceps, and it causes my mind to run rampant with questions.
Where is the rest of her shirt?
How long has she been standing half-naked on the porch?
Why is she doing this to me?
I’m totally fucked.
My eyes jump from the exposed skin of her stomach, neck, and shoulders back to her beautiful eyes while I remain silent and simply drink her in. There’s no way I can run with her wearing what she’s wearing and not seriously injure myself.
“Keaton,” she laughs nervously, “you okay?” She bends a little to look me right in the eyes. She’s lucky I don’t reach out and pull her down to cover her lips with mine, and take the guesswork out of the whole situation. I could test us both with one swift move.
Thankfully, the English language decides to make an appearance, saving us, although they may not have been the best words I’ve ever strung together. I pin her with a heated gaze and say: “You need to change.” I rise up one step, my voice coming out more gruffly than I’d intended, but I’m riled. These feelings, this sense of jealousy and possessiveness I find myself battling with, have me acting like a crazy person, and I know with certainty I can’t keep this shit up. I need to sort these feelings out once and for all.
“I beg your pardon?” Kami cuts into my thoughts, and I realize our chests are practically touching. I smile, because of course Kami doesn’t give in by stepping back. It’s fine if she isn’t backing down. I won’t either.
“I said, you need to change,” I repeat, nicely this time.
She rolls her eyes. Then shakes her head and laughs. “Not happening,” Kami says, then makes a show of dropping her eyes to my crotch. “I think it’s you who needs to change, your shorts are looking a little tight,” she tsks.
I can’t help but tip my head back and laugh.
This fucking girl.
I don’t know how this little showdown is going to go, all I know is there is one thing that’s abundantly clear this morning—until I figure shit out, every day around Kam is going to be a struggle for self-control.
As we stand face to face, I see a glint of satisfaction in her eyes and I wonder if maybe Kami isn’t testing the waters of our relationship in her own ways, this particular outfit being one of them? Kami has always been a baggy T-shirt and yoga pants kind of girl whenever we jog, so I know something’s up, and it’s not only my dick. But right now, the way I’m feeling about things between us, I need our normal back for my own sanity.
I’m not sure who the hell introduced her to these types of clothes, and I’m not entirely sure if I want to shake their hand in gratitude or drop kick them to the ground.
“Kamilla.”
“Don’t you, ‘Kamilla’ me, mister.” She crosses her arms over her lush chest defiantly, and it’s a punch to the solar plexus. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. She’s my favourite like this, feisty and without a lick of makeup marring her porcelain skin, the smattering of freckles on her nose visible, and those doe eyes of hers narrowed at me in frustration. God, this girl gets my blood going every time she looks my way.
With her hand on her hip she repeats herself, “Did you want to try that again?”, and I feel a little like one of her students.
Chuckling, I come up the last step, our chests still almost touching, and I can feel her hot breath on my face. “I said you need to change. I forgot to add—and I apologize for that, so I’ll try again—‘Good morning, Kamilla.’ So, please, go change,” I amend, and she rolls her eyes.
“Don’t call me that, Keat, you know I hate it,” she snaps, making my dick twitch.
“Easy, Hellcat.”
“Keaton!”
“All right, all right. I’m serious, though. Please change so we can go.”
“What? No wa
y!”
“Please?” I run my hand through my hair in frustration.
“What’s wrong with my outfit? It’s cute! Marcy took me to this cool workout gear shop she goes to, and I just bought a ton of stuff like this for our runs.”
“Christ.” I hiss out a breath, and she giggles.
Man, I need a win right now, but know it isn’t coming.
Especially not when she says, “I was thinking it might draw a little man candy my way.” She says it innocently, but I almost growl at the thought. I’m too young to have a heart attack. I’m working really fucking hard to tamp down my inner caveman, figuring she’s only testing me. She’d better be.
I take a step forward. She smiles as she raises her hands in mock surrender and goes into reverse until her backside meets the door, and she traps herself. I smile a big toothy grin when I see her eyes widen, then she shoots me some cut eye when she realizes she’s screwed.
“Sweater. Jogging pants. Now.”
“That’s like me telling you to go put on snow pants—now! It’s summer, Keaton, don’t be so ridiculous.” She shakes her head in defiance. I know I’m so wrong, but I can’t help it. The thought of others seeing her like this, it’s too much.
“Kami,” I plead.
“Keaton,” she mocks.
This has been a part of our game over the last couple of months. This is the shit that’s shifted, fucking me up. We’ve both been doing things like this to each other. Despite how much we’ve denied anything exists between us over the years, sometimes it feels like we’re starting to test each other to see who will crack first and make a move, almost like our own version of chicken. It’s a fun game, one I’ll admit has had me jerking myself off to thoughts of Kami more times than I’d like to admit. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep playing before I surrender to whatever this is.