Boys of West Denton ✓

chapter twenty-seven

harris

Seb is the first off the cliff. Not because he jumps—not like last time.

No, this time? This time, I push him.

It's fine, he was being a chicken.

I wait to see where he resurfaces before attempting a jump of my own. He landed pretty soundly in the water, feet first, and I'm happy to report that he's not drowning. It's a muggy, humid day, one where the ground is still wet from the rain the night before, and a wall of thick clouds hangs in the distance, another storm threatening for later. But above us, the sun is beating down harshly on exposed skin, and I can't stand the heat any longer.

The wind is cold against my chest when I jump. It whistles harshly in my ears, and I suck in a breath right before I hit the water, plunging in foot-first. I exhale through my nose as soon as I'm beneath the surface, taking a second to gather myself before swimming back up to breathe.

Sebastian is there, treading water and looking incredibly pissed off. I rub the algae-ridden lake water from my eyes just in time to see him push back his silky black curls. With his hair all pushed back like that, it's kind of giving Tom Hiddleston as Loki. I'm surprised that it's so attractive to me, but, then again, I find just about everything about Sebastian to be attractive.

Even right now, how he's glowering at me: attractive.

He splashes me with one hand. "Why did you fucking push me, you asshole?"

I can't help but laugh. He just continues to glare until I can catch my breath. "Sorry, sorry, I should have asked. You just ... you were waiting there for five minutes, brah."

He points. It's suitably threatening. "I'm not your brah."

"Shhhhh." I splash him back. "Just shhhhhhhh now, sleeeeep."

He rolls his eyes and tries to splash me again, but I swim away from him, laughing. "Come here, don't even," he says, already paddling to try and catch up with me. I keep swimming away from him, my strokes shorter than his but seemingly more powerful.

It takes him a while to catch up to me. When he does, we're right by the cliff's wall, heaving for breath. I'm smiling. He's not, but he's not mad. I can tell.

"C'mere," I say, paddling towards him instead of running again.

Seb doesn't say anything, but he meets me in the middle. His face is wet, water droplets running down his temples and cheeks. His lips are wet too, but they're warm, and they fit perfectly against mine, so I'm not complaining.

"You kiss good," he whispers, our noses touching.

"No, you kiss good." Our lips meet again, and I stifle a groan.

We kiss like that for a while, Seb's arms around my shoulders, me kicking beneath the surface to keep both of us afloat. My hands are just above his hips, my fingers pressed against the loose fabric of his swim trunks. The nylon of the shorts is smooth and rough simultaneously, and they're so loose that the fabric swishes around my fingers. I press my fingers harder into his hips. Seb moans.

And then something slippery slides against my foot.

"OHHH, WHAT THE FUCK." My leg lashes out into the murky waters on instinct. I completely forget that I'm treading for the both of us. Seb and I both bob down down for a second, but then he starts kicking, picking up my slack.

"What is it?" he asks, grabbing my hips to steady me.

I'm panting a little harder than I'd like to admit. "Nothing," I assure him, because seriously, it would have been. "Just, a fish or some shit touched my foot."