Boys of West Denton ✓

chapter ten

Sebastian

I've never been to the quarry's edge before. Never on this side, at least.

I can see across from us the long stretch of scenic backroad that winds alongside the quarry's southern edge. It's the only angle I've seen the quarry from before, aside from a sixth grade field trip to test the water pH one time.

The quarry itself is absolutely stunning, don't get me wrong. The water is a vibrant aquamarine, and it's so clear that you always think you should be able to see the bottom, even though it's way too deep for that. After all, this was a limestone quarry way back in the day. I remember that sixth grade field trip vividly (because I thought it was the coolest thing ever). The limestone rocks leach calcite crystals into the water, which is what gives it that alluring color. And while it's lovely to look at, it's stupidly dangerous.

Slightly older generations used to swim here all the time, and they'd end up getting sick. Now there's a sign every twenty feet or so that says in big, bold letters: WARNING! Do not enter, as high pH levels may cause skin & eye irritations; stomach problems; and fungal infections such as thrush. Polluted stillwater known to contain: car wrecks; dead animals; excrement; trash. Idiots from school still go diving here too, but I don't see myself ever being that brave. Or stupid.

So yeah, the quarry is gorgeous to look at, but it's definitely not for touching.

Almost as if he's reading my mind, Harris says, "How about we don't jump off this cliff today?"

"Ahahaha, you're so funny," I deadpan.

"And cute."

"Mm, debatable."

Harris wanders close enough to the quarry's edge (just to make me nervous, I'm sure) and sits down, crossing his legs again. He takes a long sip of his shake before—with a very high quality, super-mega-genius-level of thoughtfulness and confidence—retorting with, "Says the one who was making out with me last night."

Just thinking about last night makes my face go hot. He must notice, which, fuck. "That doesn't have to be a recurring thing."

He pouts. "Awwww. Don't you wike me?"

"You're gonna end up the Mountain Dew rat, not me."

An intensely grating sound fills the air while Harris tries to suck up the rest of his milkshake. He sighs afterward, smacking his lips dramatically. "Bet I taste like strawberries right now," he muses.

"Shut up." For some reason, the back of my neck feels hot too.

Almost as if he can tell how flustered I am (he definitely can), he gives me a coy smile. "Whaaat?"

"Shut up. Idiot."

"Awwwww. My feewings."

"That is actually so cringe, I want to puke."

"Hmm." Harris sets his empty cup down and looks up at me. Without him having to say anything, I sit down next to him, and he wiggles his eyebrows. "So?"

"So what?"

"Wanna, uh, makeout?" Surprisingly, his expression shifts from playful to serious in the literal second I spend hesitating. "Only if you want to, though. We don't have to."

I want to. I do. The thought of feeling Harris' lips against mine once more, the softness and sweetness of his mouth pulling me in and winding my insides up like taffy, is enough to make my whole body tingle. But I have to know if this is the real reason brought me here—not because he cared that I was uncomfortable at Paco's, but because he was horny and wanted some. For all I know, this is his spot. Maybe his and Liam's, even. The thought turns those wads of taffy into too-tight braids of nervousness.

"Are you.... Did you only invite me here to fool around?"

Our faces are mere inches apart, our hands in the grass behind us nearly touching. Harris leans back to get a better look at me. I try not to take extreme notice of his arms flexing, but it's hard. I do my best to focus instead on his face, at his quizzical, taken-aback expression. "No?"

"Are you sure? Because, you don't sound entirely convinced."

"I'm sure," he says, rubbing his shoulder. Fuck. Arms. "I thought you might like the view. I ... I'm sorry. I've been trying to make it clear that I don't want to make you feel like you have to fool around or anything, but ... yeah. I'm seriously okay to go without it. I'm really sorry I haven't been doing a good job of letting you know that."

I groan, dropping my chin down to my chest. I'm an asshole. "No, you're good, it's fine. I just wanted to be sure."

"No, yeah, I'm sorry," he says, all too quiet. He's focused on the quarry water, and I have to force myself not to look at him. His side profile is, for lack of better word, pretty. Beautiful, even. Maybe it's the way his lips curve softly into a doll-like Cupid's bow, or how his short, stubby eyelashes curve up just slightly, but he's honest to god gorgeous.

I lean over and nudge him playfully. "You're good, don't worry about it. I don't think you're trying to use me or anything." I definitely did think that, but when Harris hears this, he sits up a little straighter, and a tension I wouldn't have noticed otherwise leaves his face. 

"I would never use you," Harris promises. Fuck. Fuck, he can't be hot and say things I didn't know I wanted to hear. "And if I ever, ever overstep your boundaries, I want you to tell me, okay? I promise to always ask, no matter what, but I just want you to know that I'm not here to disrespect you like that."

There's a part of me that's glad, comforted even, that he's saying these things. But the other part of me feels incredibly awkward. How do you respond to that? I've never had to before.

So I just nod and say, "Thanks. You too."

Harris smiles, thankfully. This seems to be enough.

"Can I kiss you?" I ask, but it comes out hoarse and strangled. I clear my throat, tips of my ears burning, and try again.

"Can ... can I kiss you?"

Harris' lips are on mine immediately, his hand gently settling on the back of my head. Our noses smush together for a second, until we both tilt our chins away at the same time. His breath is hot against my upper lip, but I don't mind it, because his kisses are feather-soft, and they taste like sugar. When our kisses open up a bit more and the tip of his tongue slides tentatively against my own, I can specifically taste the strawberry shake. I wonder if he can taste my malt, too.

He puts one hand on my side, right beneath my ribs, and gently guides me down onto the grass. The earth isn't so much soft as it is spongy, and I can feel the lingering dampness from last weekend's storm soaking the back of my shirt, but I don't even care.

It's tender. It's gentle. It's aching. We kiss for what might be seconds but could just as easily be hours. We kiss and we kiss, all in the same way, again and again and again—his hand cupping my cheek and resting softly against my diaphragm; my arms wrapped around his lower back. I'm all too aware of his pelvis resting closely to mine. I'm stuck on wondering if he's as excited as I am when he pulls away, takes a deep breath, and looks me straight in the eye.

"Hey," he says, and holy shit, his voice is so deep right now. How is it so deep? What the fuck? Testosterone? Is he making it like that? Men?

"Hey back," I tell him, and yep. Nowhere near as deep. Fuck.

Harris chuckles. "You're cute."

"Good to know."

His lips find mine again, his body covering my own in a way that feels far more pleasant than uncomfortable. My eyes are shut tightly, and I lose myself in his sweet, sweet mouth once again.

A/N - enjoy another update!! gonna be breezing through these, hopefully.

have a great day!