Canyon Moon | H.S.

A Dangerous Game (6)

Another saturday rolls around and a classic British heat wave rears its head. All Brits know one when we see it, and it's inexplicably British to try and spend as much time in the sun as possible while it lasts, cause it's usually not longer than a week.

Four of the five boys are already in their swim shorts at breakfast, only myself and Zayn sit in normal clothes.

"Okay, so I'm pretty sure I can guess what most of you are planning on doing today." I say lightly.

"I mean, come on love, you've gotta make the most of the sun while it's here." Louis says to me, and I shrug in agreement.

"What about you, Zayn?"

"Oh, I'm not a big swimmer," he replies, "I only learnt how to swim in the past few years, so I don't go in pools that much." It surprises me to hear that he's only recently learnt, but I decide not to question it.

"What will you be doing instead?"

"I think I'm gonna do some baking." That takes me by surprise.

"Baking? In this heat?"

"Yeah," he says with a shrug, "I love baking, and I saw you'd got in all the stuff that I need."

"Will you be joining us outside, Natalie?" Liam asks, standing and clearing the plates.

I've noticed more in the past week that the boys have started doing more things like that, which is nice. I might have been hired to help them out, but they should still be able to clean up after themselves, popstar or not.

"Of course," I reply, giving him a hand, "glad I packed a swimsuit just in case."

I run upstairs to my room and fish my old red swimsuit out of the drawer I'd stuffed it in, having been very pleased with myself for packing it once I'd seen on arrival that there was a pool. I change quickly, grab the book that I've been reading, my sketchbook and pencils, some sun cream and a towel and head back downstairs.

On the way to the garden I look into the kitchen and see Zayn, apron on, already making a huge mess in the kitchen. He turns around, hearing me walk past, and smiles at me, possibly the biggest smile I've seen from him yet. I grin back, genuinely happy that he's doing something he enjoys, and push the thought of cleaning the kitchen to the back of my mind.

"Alright lads," I say, coming out the french doors and dumping my stuff on one of the pool beds, "who needs sun cream?"

I see that Niall is sorted, streaks of un-rubbed-in cream dotting his face and legs.

"Liam and I are covered." Louis says.

"I haven't put any on." Harry says, looking up at me from where he's sat at the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the water.

"Shall I put some on your back, and then you can sort the rest of you?" I ask, and he nods.

He reaches up to tie his hair out of the way, and I walk over and kneel behind him. I pour some cream on my hand and press them together, before gently rubbing it onto his back. As I do, I can feel the muscles in his back flex ever so slightly, and an odd feeling shoots to my stomach.

He has on a small gold chain that tangles with some escaped hairs down the back of his neck, and I gently push them aside. From here I get a close look at the tattoos on his upper arm, the black ink stark against his tanned skin. I doubt he even needs sun cream, really I mean, look at him. He's definitely one of those people who never burns, just soaks up the sun.

My hands move down his arms and across and down his back, until I'm touching the waistband of his shorts. He hasn't said a word, though neither have I, I'm just desperately trying not to breathe down his neck.