Say Yes (Nostalgic Summer Romance)

Something ignited in me standing on that riverbank, like a match falling onto a gasoline-soaked forest floor.

With a breath and a squeal, I launched myself into the cold river.

I jumped in with Liam Benson.

If only I had known just how deep that boy’s water was.

My dress clung to me as we walked the narrow streets that led back to the dorm buildings, water dripping down my shins and ankles as the sun spread its first rays out over the city. The last couple hours had been the quietest, but now, slowly, the city stirred again, merchants and tourists alike waking to embrace the new day.

I felt like a zombie, my body moving without my brain telling it to. I was half-asleep and yet had the jitters like I’d just chugged a pot of coffee. I watched the city wake through bleary eyes, but I smiled despite the exhaustion from a night I knew I’d never forget.

Already, my fingers were itching to paint.

When we made it to the dorm building, I folded my hands together at my waist, ready to say goodnight. Or rather, good morning. But when I turned, I found Liam watching me under wet strands of messy hair, his jaw set, eyes flicking between mine.

He didn’t look ready to say goodnight.

And suddenly I didn’t want to say it, either.

“Thank you,” I said. “For tonight.”

He nodded, stepping a little closer, a little too close for me to breathe properly.

“Invite me up to your dorm,” he said, voice just above a whisper.

I didn’t know if it was still technically yes night, but this time, I said it because I wanted to.

“Yes.”

My hands shook as we walked the winding stairs up to my and Angela’s dorm, and even more so when I stuck the key in the lock and turned, inviting him in.

Liam stood at the entryway, peeling off his jacket and boots and setting them to the side before his eyes wandered the space.

“Cool couch,” he said after a while.

I snorted. “That couch is many things, but cool isn’t one of them.”

Liam offered a smile, and then he stood there with his hands in his pockets, waiting.

And I had no idea what to say or do.

“Um… do you want to shower?” I asked, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“Probably not a bad idea.”

I led him down the hall to the bathroom I shared with Angela, careful to be quiet when we passed her room. I grabbed a towel from under the sink and set it on top of the toilet.

“Left is hot, right is cold,” I told him, pointing to the knob in the shower. “But don’t turn it too far left, or you’ll lose all the hot water in three minutes. Lukewarm is the aim.”

Liam nodded, but when I went to turn and leave him, his hand slipped into the crook of my elbow.

The touch was subtle and soft, gentle — but so steadfast and confident it stopped me in my tracks. My inhale caught in my chest, and when I looked up into his dark eyes, I thought I’d never find a full breath again.

“Aren’t you going to shower, too?”

I blanched. “You want to… shower… together?”

He shrugged, as if it wasn’t even close to preposterous to suggest. “If the hot water is finicky, better not waste it, right?”

Before I could respond, he bent to turn on the water, testing the temperature before he pulled the chain that made the water reroute up through the shower head.

Then, he looked at me again, and with his eyes locked on mine, he stripped his shirt off, unbuckled his belt, and let his jeans fall into a heap at his ankles.

I couldn’t hide how labored my breaths were now, my chest heaving with effort to bring oxygen to my lungs. Liam noticed, too, and he stepped into me, framing my arms with his hands. He held me there until my breathing steadied, his eyes searching mine, and then slowly, his hands moved to bunch the fabric of my dress at my waist.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

I nodded, and he bunched the fabric a little more, exposing my skin to the warm steam now circling the bathroom.

I clamped my hands over his when he pulled my dress up over my panty line, and he paused, holding my gaze and not moving another inch. I trembled, but then took over where he’d started, peeling my wet dress up overhead and letting it fall next to his jeans.

It was a spaghetti strap dress, so I hadn’t had on a bra underneath, which meant I was standing in a tiny bathroom with Liam Benson in nothing but a pair of cotton panties.

And he was in nothing but a pair of briefs.

His Adam’s apple bobbed hard in his throat, and his eyes flicked down over my exposed breasts, my navel, the space between my thighs before he found my gaze again. I wanted to do the same, to let my eyes wander the length of his body, but I couldn’t. I just kept my eyes on his and tried my best to keep oxygen flowing.