Red Summer Chapter 7

She was fucking beautiful.

The sun radiated down on her tanned skin, illuminating the highlights in her platinum hair and reddening her freckled cheeks. Donning a white bikini and a pair of denim shorts, she made the breath catch in his throat. The rays casted shadows along every curve on her body, and goddamn, did it make his heart seize in his chest. This girl. Angelic and ethereal in every sense of the word.

Ophelia was too good for him—coming out here and setting up an entire car wash in the hopes of helping James with his bar. He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it, but Sean reassured him that it was a step in the right direction. If anyone was rooting for him to make his move, it was Sean.

That fucking matchmaker.

It was a typical summer day in California, so hot that it felt like it was suffocating him and making his clothes cling to his skin from the sweat. As uncomfortable and miserable as it was, he’d suffer through it if that meant hiding his arm from the loads of strangers who would pop in to get their cars washed. He’d been trying to embrace it more, but—baby steps. 

Approaching Ophelia with a deep breath, he cleared his throat.

“White again, hmm?”

Ophelia glanced up with her hand hovered just above her eyes as she squinted against the rays of sunshine. His faint smirk deepened as he watched the realization of his words register on her features.

“Yep.” She laughed softly, looking down at her bikini with her hands on her hips. “Good thing it’s meant to get wet, huh?”

Her fucking flirty one-liners would be the death of him.

And he almost says it out loud, but a shiny, red sports car pulls into the paved lot—tires loud against the loose rocks. A curly, blonde-haired frat boy sat behind the wheel, waving at Ophelia as he parked the car with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He could’ve passed for any of the drunken bastards that were in his bar every weekend during the summer.

Great.

“Clark!”

Even his voice matched the obnoxious tone that all the other fuckers had. James clenched his jaw as he watched the frat boy climb out of his car, throwing his hands up as he smiled at Ophelia. Again. Heat bubbled in his stomach at the sight. There was more talking, but he didn’t even catch anything that was said because he was too busy trying not to explode as Blondie ran to swoop Ophelia up in his arms. And if that didn’t make him want to wring the kid’s neck, him twirling her around like a goddamn princess did the trick.

“Put me down, you butthead.” Ophelia groaned.

His entire body felt stiff as he watched them, his nostrils flaring as he struggled to compose his facial expression. He wondered if the urge to murder someone relayed on his features. 

“Jeez, short stuff, you get prettier every time I see you.”

A blood vessel was mere seconds away from bursting in his neck with how hard he was gritting his teeth together.

“Yeah, yeah. Paul, this is James.” She motioned toward him with a meek smile. “James, this is Wren’s brother, Paul.”

Of course.

The best friend’s brother.

Maybe James was delusional to think that Ophelia would pick someone like him—older, a bar owner, and working most days. He didn’t have an impressive sports car or luscious blonde hair. Hell, he lived in a tiny room in the back of his bar that he could hardly manage to afford—a real winner.

“Hey man,” Paul greeted as he stuck his hand out.

“Hello.”

As much as he wanted to shrug off the greeting, he didn’t want to upset her by blowing off her friend. So, instead, he reached out to shake frat boy’s outstretched hand for a few measly seconds. If had lasted any longer, there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t have crushed the bones in Paul’s palm by squeezing too hard.

“Listen, Pauline, where are your buddies?” Wren asked her brother, thankfully pulling his attention away from Clark. “We need to get this party started.”

More rich boys. 

Perfect.

“They’re coming, Mom.”

James glanced down at Ophelia as he twisted the rings on his fingers, watching as she turned toward him with a sheepish grin. He caught the way her blue eyes darted down to his obvious fidgeting, and the corners of her lips twitched in response. She knew exactly what this was doing to him. The realization dawned on him suddenly, and his brow furrowed. 

“He’s bringing friends, huh?” James asked.

“Yeah, to get us started,” she replied simply. “Are you okay?”

Peachy.

He needed to take a second. He needed air. To breathe. Clark was playing the jealousy game, but why? They were just friends. Unless this was a clear signal that she wanted more—fuck. He wanted more, but he was too grown for games. There were more games than he knew what to do with when he was married to Gemma, all she ever did was treat their marriage like it wasn’t serious. She showed him that by cheating on him. Hell would freeze over before he played games again.

James hummed quietly in response just as more cars began to pull into the lot. Her head turned at the sound, and he took the out to walk back toward Sean—who sat perched at the table the girls had set up for the car wash.

Just breathe.

“Are you red because it’s so damn hot out here?” Sean teased, raising a brow at him as he approached. “Or is your head about to pop off because pretty boy over there had his hands on your girl?”

“Shut the fuck up, Sean.”

All that earned him was a snicker. 

“Just go stake your claim, Jam,” he urged, rubbing his chin to keep the smile from spreading on his lips. “Talk to her.”

“Stake my claim?” James repeated with a grunt as he placed his hands down on the table. “What do you want me to do? Piss on her?”

Sean snorted obnoxiously as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, his cheeks lifting as he struggled to keep the laughter contained. “No, please, keep your kinks to yourself.”

James didn’t bother trying to tone down his eye roll as he turned away from Sean, crossing his arms over his chest as he peeked in Ophelia’s direction. As if this day couldn’t possibly get worse, Blondie had somehow multiplied—fraternity fuckheads were standing everywhere now with their eyes zoned in on the girls. It was like a buffet for the drooling bastards.

It wasn’t like she was his. He shouldn’t care so much. 

“Go over there and make it known that she’s your girl.”

James gave Sean a pointed look. “But she’s not.”

“You want her to be.”

Pressing his tongue to his cheek, he sighed. “It has to work both ways. I can’t want her and call her my girl if she doesn’t want me back.”

The sound of water spraying across the top of Paul’s car caught his attention, stealing his gaze as he turned to look in her direction again. His body tensed as he watched Ophelia kneel down to submerge the sponge into the soapy bucket of water, just as Wren pointed the hose at her—soaking her bikini top and frayed shorts with a laugh. It didn’t take long for chaos to ensue after that. There was yelling, giggling, and squealing but he couldn’t hear any of it. 

All he could do was focus on the fact that Paul was swooping Ophelia up again. 

His skin boiled in the California sun, hell—his insides boiled. With white, hot rage. It filled every vein and ignited every nerve ending. His teeth clenched together so hard that he waited for the sharp crack of one of them breaking.

“If she didn’t want you back, she wouldn’t be here,” Sean murmured under his breath. The sound of his voice brought James back to Earth as he forced himself to tear his eyes from the scene to look down at his best friend. “She helped set all of this up, Jam. For you.”

He didn’t have time for games. He wanted her. And he would tell her that.

You’re going to tell her that.

Ophelia’s fingers wrapping around his arm snapped him out of his daze as he glanced down to see her biting down on her bottom lip to hide her meek smile. Her blue eyes were apologetic as she peeked up at him, and that was all it took for him to realize he would do anything she asked him to with her staring at him like that. 

“Can I borrow you for a second?” he blurted out quickly, his voice teetering on the verge of a growl as he stopped Paul from coming after her once more. “I need to, uh, grab a table inside.”

“Sure,” Ophelia said softly. 

Separate her from them. Talk to her. Tell her what he wanted. That was the plan. James was determined as he made his way across the street toward his bar. He could hear her shuffling behind him as she tried to keep up with his pace. 

“James?” 

He hummed.

“Are you alright?” She sounded worried, grabbing the door as he held it open for her on his way inside. “You seem upset—”

But the energy shifted as they stepped inside. Quiet and alone and—fuck. He wanted to talk to her, of course, he wanted to talk to her, but he also wanted to kiss her. Taste her lips on his. Take the edge off. One little taste to satisfy the ache in his stomach that grew in size every second he was around her.

“Come here,” James breathed, pulling her around the corner and pressing her against the wall in mere seconds before he smashed his lips against hers.

A muffled whimper reverberated through her lips and he swallowed it as his hands entangled in her hair, pulling her deeper into the kiss. His stomach felt like it was coming to life, butterflies rolling up his spine and pushing a needy groan from his mouth as he pinned her tightly to the wall with his abdomen. His chest squeezed as he inhaled her and shit—she was the sweetest thing he’d ever smelled in his entire life. The sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. 

There had been girls before, plenty of them, but none of them were like her. None of them made a grown man’s knees feel like they were about to give out from a kiss. None of them had ever made every organ in his body ignite like fireworks before. Maybe he’d been dead inside his entire life if this was what it felt like to be alive. 

“Shit,” he hissed, breaking the kiss as he pressed his forehead against hers. “I should’ve asked you if that was even okay—”

Her fingers knotted in his hair as she yanked him back down, lifting her leg to hook it around his waist as she kissed him again.

“Just kiss me,” she begged in a pant, guiding his lips down her jawline toward her neck as she rolled her hips against him.

She wanted him, too.

“Fuck.”

He peppered hot kisses down her neck as his hands found her waist. Her body writhed and twitched under his touch, and he loved it. She was so responsive, so needy. Her fingers were grasping onto him like it was life or death.

“What about—” he paused, his tongue flicking out to taste her collarbone before kissing her skin again. “Being friends?”

“Friends,” Ophelia moaned softly. “With benefits. Definitely the benefits.”

A groan burst through his lips before kissing her again, but as her words replayed in his mind like a broken record—it felt like a punch to the stomach. She wanted him, but not completely. She wanted bits of him. Pieces. Pulling away from her, his brow furrowed as his chest heaved shakily. 

She was gorgeous—looking up at him with expectant, wild eyes. Her full lips were swollen and pink from his kiss. 

He would give her any pieces she wanted. 

“I’m old.”

Her fingers gripped his chin as she forced him to look at her. “I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“It’s just for the summer,” she cooed, her eyes never wavering from his. “I’ll go back to Georgia in six weeks, and we can pretend it never happened.”

Yeah. Fuck that.

“If we’re going to do this, I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything,” she whispered.

“No more games.” James swallowed. “No more shows to make me jealous.”

She cocked her head. “I promise.”

Atta girl.

“If we’re doing this, you’re mine.”

Just saying the words made goosebumps prick along his heated skin, and a shiver trailed down his spine at the thought of her being his. 

“Yes, sir.” Her lips twitched. 

Pressing his lips to her forehead, he sighed. Bits. Pieces. That’s what she wanted, but he’d give her more than that. He’d give her everything. 

“We should get back out there before everyone wonders what happened to us.”

She nodded, and he didn’t miss the way her pink lips formed a pout. It was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. Running his thumb along her protruded bottom lip, a smile danced along his. He observed her for a second, memorizing every inch of her face in this moment. Storing it away in his mind.

“And Ophelia?” he breathed.

“Yes?”

His heart thudded harshly.

“I don’t want to pretend this never happened.”