||COMPLETE||
Amber Blake is having dreams, and they just might be the key to saving her best friend, Mark.
Unfortunately, she's too preoccupied pretending to hate the boy next door, Carter Hayes. Secretly hoping to rekindle what once was, Amber atte...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The water is scalding against my skin. It beats against my back, runs in rivulets down my face, but I don't flinch away from the heat. Charlie and I sat on that bench until my ass was frozen, so I welcome the warmth happily. The steam wraps me up like a blanket, making me reluctant to get out. I've been moving all day, so to have a moment of stillness is a blessing. I tilt my face up and let the water wash the last twenty four hours away, then cut off the stream. When I step out of the shower, I feel refreshed. Almost like myself again.
I grab the nearest towel and wrap it tight around my body. It's soft to the touch and the perfect shield against the cool, bathroom air. I walk around the glass wall and head out the door to the rest of the bedroom, my head wrapped up in thoughts of where to go from here.
Which means I don't see Carter standing near the bedroom door.
"I've always loved your hair like that."
I nearly drop the towel at the sound of his voice. Clutching it like a lifeline, I make sure all the important bits are covered before facing him. He's still wearing his work clothes, a tailored suit in navy blue. He's got pajamas folded up in his hands, suggesting he plans to sleep in the guest room again. It's hard to pinpoint how I feel about that.
"What?"
"Your hair. When it's wet and all the curls separate. I've always loved it like that," he explains, a hint of a smile playing across his lips.
Instinctively, I reach up and stroke the damp curls, letting them weave around my fingers. My mind searches for anything to say back, but I draw a blank. I'm not used to this Carter who blatantly compliments me. Snarky Carter? No brainer.
Husband Carter? A total conundrum.
"That summer you taught me to swim? I'm surprised I learned anything at all," he continues. He doesn't seem to mind my silence. "I kept getting distracted by it every time you came up for air."
I remember this memory just fine. Jitters dancing in my stomach whenever he swam by. Sun glistening off his golden skin when he got good enough to race me. It was one of the few times we spent just us, splashing around in a hidden pond near the back of our neighborhood. Being that close to him with no one else around had been exciting, and I would never want to leave, even when my fingers pruned painfully.
