Part 14

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I pulled into Jamie's driveway thirty minutes after the game. I'd hugged everybody's neck afterward. Jamie was the only one I hadn't hugged. I was too afraid I wouldn't let go, and I thought he felt the same way because he kept his distance, and even though he never expressly asked me to come over, the invitation was there in his eyes as he watched me hug Donovan and Tate and give Lassiter and Ross high-fives. I'd walked out of the gym with Noah's arm around my shoulders, wishing the whole time it was Jamie's.


I took the path that led around the side of the house. The sky was graying under the fading daylight, and just as I cleared the rise of dunes and stepped onto the open beach, Jamie emerged from the surf as if he knew I was here. All this wide-open space and it still wasn't big enough. He dwarfed the entire sky.


"Way to give me a heart attack. Watching you play was the most nerve-wracking thing I've ever done. How does your dad stand it?" He walked right up to me his smile wide, water streaming down the broad planes of his chest and torso. A drip caught on the end of his nose and he shook it loose with a quick flick of his head. 


"Yeah, my dad was pretty insistent I never start off like that again." I looked down shyly. The hug I'd wanted to give him after the game seemed out of place now. And there was always something different about him when I saw him in his element, with the Gulf as his backdrop. He was always a bit less regular human and more something else. "Thank you."


"For what?" He took my hand, wrapping my fingers in his.


I lifted my gaze back to his face. "Sticking around. Saying what you did."


"It was fun, and you're weren't half-bad." He tugged on our linked hands, forcing me to step closer to him.


"Not half-bad?" I narrowed my eyes at him. 


"Okay, I admit I'm impressed," he said around a full-wattage smile that momentarily stole my ability to speak. 


"Y'all made quite an impression too. My teammates begged me to invite you back."


"We'll be back. At least I will." He leaned over, running his nose up the side of my neck. I shivered in response. "Come swim with me."


"I don't have a bathing suit," I protested. I had to get on my tiptoes to do it, but my mouth found the juncture of his shoulder and neck where his skin was so soft and warm and deliciously salty. He shuddered when I nuzzled him and picked me up, his arms tight around my back. 


"Go in with what you have on." He was already walking toward the shoreline.


"Wait." I pushed against his chest. It was like pushing against stone with no give under my fingers. He set me back on my feet, and my hands found the hem of the t-shirt I'd put on after taking off my jersey. I swiped it over my head, leaving me in my spandex shorts and sports bra. 


His eyes raked over me. Then he scooped me up and threw me over his shoulder, one hand placed firmly on my ass. The water was a smooth, flat surface that rippled when he waded in and I squealed when he toppled over, submerging us. His lips were on mine before we resurfaced, his tongue coaxing my mouth to open under his. I was sorry I needed to breathe. I wanted to stay underwater with him forever. 


After we resurfaced, he asked, "How long can you hold your breath?"


"I don't know. I can go down and back in our pool without coming up for air." Seeing who could swim the most laps in the pool without coming up for air was a game the guys and I often played on those Saturdays when they'd come over. Donovan held the record. He could swim the length of the pool five times without coming up for air. He'd nearly blacked out doing it, but he'd made it. 

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