Through the Lens (Click Duet #1) (Bay Area Duet Series) by Persephone Autumn (best book club books .txt) 📕

her throughout the week at school. And sporadically we see each other on the weekend to “study.” But we are never really alone. When we are “studying,” it is in her living room or mine, our parents not far away. One of us on the couch, the other between their legs on the floor.

On occasion, I catch myself playing with a strand of her hair while she sits in front of me, arms warm against the inside of my calves. Or I lean into her legs when I’m cross-legged on the floor. She never brushes me off or acts as if the gesture makes her uncomfortable. And every once in a while, the light brushing of her fingertips draws on the skin of my neck. When she does this, I have to remember how to breathe. How to think.

We have preplanned a couple days of Thanksgiving break. Meeting with friends, hanging out and playing Putt-Putt or bowling. But I hope she will want to spend more time together, just the pair of us. Within a week of school starting, she easily slipped into friend—if not best friend—territory. A week after that, I craved to see her as much as possible and had an inkling she would always be more. At least to me. And I hope she reciprocates.

The bell rings and cheers can be heard throughout the school. Cheers of a week of freedom and sleep and no schedule. Cheers to less supervision and good times with friends. Closing my textbook, I stuff it and my notebook into my backpack. I slide out of my seat with a smile plastered on my face and head out the door. This week will be perfect.

Through the dark lenses on my sunglasses, I stare out at the water and watch Cora as she splashes Shelly in the shallows. Although it is late November, the sun beats down mild temperatures ranging from the low eighties to the high seventies in this part of Florida. The Gulf is still warm, but will cool in the next couple of weeks.

Micah, Shelly’s older brother and my best friend for the last few years, sits next to me and doesn’t hide the fact he ogles women ten-plus years his senior. But I’m cool with him being distracted. It disguises the fact I can’t seem to remove my eyes from Cora’s creamy white skin. The pallor similar to the snow I saw last winter when my parents took us on a road trip during winter break.

Hair black as coal, skin white as cotton, lips red as fresh cherries. Her smile bright as the sun on a summer day and her laugh a sound that sings to my heartstrings the moment I hear it.

Everything about her stunning. Spellbinding. Hypnotizing.

It’s not until Micah backhands my bicep that I realize he has been talking to me and I have no clue what he said. “Sorry, man. What?” And I will my eyes to leave Cora to look over at Micah.

“I said we picked the perfect day to come out here. Lots of oil-slicked beauties out today,” he states, brows waggling. Today is one of those days when Micah behaves like the typical horny teenage boy. Both annoying and not. But he is my best friend and I tolerate his ways.

There is only one person I have an interest in looking at, but for the sake of not being razzed, I nod and add, “Definitely a perfect day.” I leave my response generic, hoping he won’t press further.

But Micah isn’t the type of guy to leave things unsaid. I have only known him a short time, but it hasn’t taken long to learn how outgoing he is. “Anyone catching your eye? You’ve been a little zoned out.”

Only one person has caught my eye, but I have no intention of divulging this tidbit. Not now. “No one in particular. You?”

“There’s a trio of blondes at three o’clock I’ve been watching for a few. Think I might go say hello. You want to go with?”

“Nah. Think I’ll cool off in the water for a bit.”

I would rather be inches away from the magnetic girl sporting a black two-piece with curves in all the right places.

Micah rises from the blanket, brushes sand off his legs and board shorts, and straightens his spine. I’m half tempted to tell him it doesn’t matter if you have sand on you, dipshit, you’re at the beach. We are surrounded by sand. But I opt to refrain from jabbing him.

In a few quick strides, he walks away from me and makes a beeline for the females who I hope will occupy his time a while. After I’m certain he is not turning back, I scoot to the edge of the blanket and stare out at the water a moment. Cora and Shelly tread water just deep enough to reach the edge of their shoulders. They talk about something, Shelly’s hand animating above the water every five seconds. Cora watches her studiously behind the dark tint of her sunglasses and smiles here and there.

Deep breath in, I stand from our reserved spot on the beach and trek fifty feet toward the water’s edge. The small waves break over my shins as I shuffle into the water. Once I stand waist deep in the salty surf, I sink in the water, and wet my hair before swimming to Cora and Shelly.

As I approach them, I hear them talking about seeing a movie later. Intrigued, I wonder if I will be invited to said movie. Who cares what plays on the screen, I would love to just sit beside Cora for two hours in the dim-lit theater. Would I even be able to focus on the movie? Probably not.

“Hey,” Cora says, breathless. I tread water on her right until I realize I can reach the sand below, planting my feet but keeping my body the same height as the two of them. “Tired of tanning yourself.” A teasing smile lights her face.

“Ha-ha.