Dirty Obsession (Dirty 1)

When she realizes that no temptation is going to get me to be the one to make the first move, she steps back and turns to look out over the ocean at the sun that is just now beginning to set over the ocean.

“We should go sit on the beach and watch the sunset, so we can try to dry off before getting back into my car. We forgot to bring towels,” Sloane says so matter-of-factly. Like the almost kiss didn’t happen. Like I haven’t affected her at all.

My eyes widen as I stare at her walking back toward the shore. I begin to follow her. I walk until I’m standing right next to her on the beach. She’s staring at the sunset while I’m gaping at her.

“What are you doing?” she asks, still staring straight ahead at the sunset, while she wrings out her wet hair.

“Gaping at how you never cease to surprise me.”

“Why is that?”

“You never behave in the way that I think you will.”

She nods. “Would it surprise you to hear that you aren’t the first person to make that observation?”

I laugh. “No, I guess it wouldn’t.”

She looks at me. “I get it from my grandmother. My unpredictability.”

I walk over and find my T-shirt that I threw on the beach before I jumped into the water. I pick it up and carry it over to where Sloane is standing on the beach, trying to dry off. I lay it on the ground.

“Here, sit on the T-shirt, so you don’t get sand all over you.”

She sits on my T-shirt, and I sit on the sand next to her.

Sloane laughs at me.

I rub my neck as I listen to her beautiful laugh that I didn’t think I would get to hear today. “You’re going to have to tell me what is so funny.”

She keeps laughing though until her whole body is rocking back and forth from the force of her laughter. “I’m sorry,” she says in between laughs. “It’s really not funny. I don’t understand why I’m laughing at all. It’s just that you thought I should sit on your T-shirt to avoid getting sand on me, but then you sat down on the sand. And, unless you are walking home, you are going to get sand in my car.”

I stare at her, taking in her laugh again that continues to force itself out of her. But she has a point. So, I get up and rinse myself off in the water. And then I march back to her.

“What are you doing?” she asks, still laughing.

I don’t respond to her basically never-ending question. I guess I should dictate everything that I am doing, as I’m doing it to satisfy her. She really is a control freak.

I plop down behind her so that I can sit on the tiny bit of remaining T-shirt that she is not sittin

g on. She squeals and laughs, like she probably would if Wes had sat down behind her.

“You’re getting me all wet,” she squeals as the water drips off my chest and onto her back.

“Damn it! I promised I wouldn’t hit on you; otherwise, I would have a great line about getting you wet.”

This causes her to laugh hysterically all over again. She throws her head back, hitting me square in the jaw.

“Oh my God! I’m sorry,” she says, still laughing.

I laugh now. “I don’t think you are the least bit sorry. You probably think I deserved it.”

“You’re right. I’m not sorry at all. You deserved that and more.”

Sloane continues to laugh until her laugh turns into hiccups. I rub her back under the guise of trying to calm her down and make the hiccups go away, but I also can’t stand to be this close to her and not touch any part of her body, except for our legs that are barely touching. Her skin is soft and warm.

“The sunset is beautiful,” she says as she leans back a little but not enough so that she is leaning against my chest, like I want.

“You’re beautiful,” I say automatically.