embarrassed writer

Rolling your eyes, you fight back a small grin tugging at your lips. For as much as he annoyed you, you did love Craig in a way; he's one of your closest friends. Granted, you might not be happy about it all the time but you can tell him anything. You know you've got complete loyalty and no judgement- well, sometimes judgement. Okay, maybe a lot of judgment sometimes.

"I was until some asshole cockblocked me."

"Wow, that's terrible. So, who was the lucky guy?" He mocks interest, voice dripping with condescension. Tapping the neck of his beer bottle on your drink in cheers, he chugs the last of it down.

"Okay, shut the fuck up." You laugh, taking his lead and knocking your drink down quickly.

Teasingly you lilt, "You know who it was and you know you want all the juicy details. Wanna hear how his dick felt."

Craig sticks his fingers in his ears going lalalalala until he sees that you've definitely stopped talking.

"That's still my brother, thank you very much. I only want PG-13 renditions." Throwing a slightly sweat-sticky arm over your shoulder he drags you to grab another drink with him.

Eventually he leans down to whisper in your ear, "You want anything stronger than a drink?"

"I'm good. You have fun though, buddy."

Tapping his chest, you twirl out from under his hold and open the sliding door to the kitchen, once more greeted with the slightly quieter room. It's cooler inside the house compared to outside and the humidity doesn't make you feel sticky in here. The sudden change in temperature has goosebumps raising on your arms, making a small shiver run through you when you go to open the fridge.

"Cold?"

A familiar voice sounds behind you. Hushed and tense. Pope- Andrew. It's odd, forcing your internal monologue to change the name you've called him for years. You suppose there might be two versions of him that'll live inside your head now.

Pope. Deran's brother. Sharp gaze and quiet, always seeming slightly annoyed. His eyes always locking on you in a way that made you feel like he was sizing you up as a threat. Figuring out the quickest way to get you subdued. Hovering in the background of conversations and memories. Equal amounts imposing and intriguing. A dirty crush you'd developed quickly upon meeting him.

Andrew. Someone you'd only been able to glance at in quiet moments. His eyes no less sharp, but something different about the way he sizes you up. The vague memories of him attempting conversations with you over the years only to leave looking uncomfortable. You've had minimal interaction with this version of him, with the softer parts of him he's letting you see. The part of him that made that dirty crush turn into something a bit more real.

Turning over your shoulder you smile teasingly, "Why? Wanna offer me your non-existent jacket?" He's wearing one of his signature short sleeve button-ups, the weather far too brutal for any form of jacket.

Grabbing a drink, you close the fridge and turn to face him, leaning against the cool metal and feeling more goosebumps prickle your skin.

Andrew stands there, hands balling into fists at his side, clenching and releasing over and over. He says nothing for a while, choosing to stare at you with eyes flickering over every feature of your face. You wonder if he's gonna reply at all.

“Okay, I’m gonna go show off my new bikini and laugh at Craig’s pool flip attempts." As if on cue, you hear a scream followed by a splash.

"Feel free to join whenever you’d like Andy.” Placing a hand on his shoulder you let it slowly slide up to cup his cheek. With a small smile you give his cheek a light peck, watching him swallow harshly as you pull away.

Outside, you wait until you see Andrew looking at you from the pool lounge he'd claimed to peel off your top, small smirk on your face as you make eye contact with him. His eyes are trained on your face the whole time, even as you purposefully adjust the straps to make the sight more intriguing. He's the picture of gentlemanliness, that is until you wiggle out of your shorts. He’s helpless when he lets his eyes drag down your body to take in the revealing bathing suit.

It’s not your most scandalous bikini by any means, those are saved for your own home or private hangouts at the Cody pool. But the way this one accentuates every part of your body could arguably make it the most seductive one you own.

Slowly, you walk over to him with your clothes clasped between your hands. When you reach him he's looking up at you with a gaze that you can't fully read. You're pretty sure at least part of it is attraction, mixed with anger maybe? Whatever it is- it's hot.

"Mind holding onto these for me? Lots of people here who might mistake them for yours. You don't mind watching them, do you?" You make your voice sound as sweet as possible, raising your brows hopefully and chewing on your bottom lip.

Andrew's hands reach out slowly, taking the fabric of your outfit from your hands with a gentleness that makes you wonder if they'd suddenly turned to fragile glass.

"Like the new bikini?" The second you ask, Andrew locks back in on the bathing suit that clings to you.

Someone calls your name from the other side of the pool, taking your attention away from the eyes that desperately drink you down. They wave you over with an urgency that makes you deflate a bit, so much for flirting with Andrew.

"Sorry, I'll be back in a minute. Gonna check on whatever that is."

Far longer than a minute passes and after another drink is passed to you, followed by another, you admittedly forget to go back to check on Andrew.

Some time later you slip inside to grab your phone to give some girl you'd just met your number. She's been sweet all night and somehow you'd found out you both frequent the same coffee shop, so the two of you decided to meet up there next week. Slowly walking back to her, you check your texts, reading and replying to your latest unread message.

You glance at Andrew again, still sitting in that same lounger, and he offers what you think is meant to be a smile. Sending him a wink, you let yourself fold back into the crowd to find your newest friend.

A few minutes later, you've got a new contact named Trinity and a heat behind your shoulder that begins to distract you from the conversation you’re listening to. Turning, you see Andrew standing incredibly close to you. Before you can say anything, maybe ask him why he's so close or if he's okay, he speaks lowly.

“You look nice. The bikini is," a heavy glance down, "...good.”

Smiling brightly, you thank him and wait for him to say something more. He doesn’t. So you do.

“I love this color, one of my favorites! What’s your favorite color?” You ask. Perhaps you have to go into this whole thing a bit slower, start with the basics.

Andrew lets his eyes drag over the bikini once more before replying, “That one.”

Laughing you nod. “Good choice.”

A song you like begins to fill the air and you figure it must be fate trying to give you a hand. “Wanna dance? I love this song!”

Your fingers hesitantly reach for his and when your hands intertwine, Andrew shakes his head. “I’ll just watch.”

The answer feels like a rejection until he squeezes your hand with his and leans in to quietly whisper, “Not much of a dancer.”

Leaning back you give him a soft smile, something you can’t seem to stop yourself from doing around him. “No problem." Leaning in close to his ear you whisper, "Feel free to watch all you want, handsome.”

Tapping Trinity's shoulder, you ask her to join you when she turns and she yells out 'hell yeah' before dragging you to an open spot to dance.

The entire time you let your body move to the music you continually glance towards Andrew, meeting his eyes and sending him amused grins when you see his eyes fall from your face. He doesn’t smile back but the intensity in his gaze is acknowledgment enough of what you both know is going on between you.

Eventually, you tire of dancing and Trinity drags you to a corner of the yard you can’t see Andrew from to meet her friends she'd come with. The chatting distracts you and you let yourself fully relax, easily fitting in with their little friend group.

The night drags on and the party eventually starts to fizzle out. The whole reason Deran was supposed to be picking you up is because you were staying over after. No way in hell you planned to drive after this.

Exhaustion has you trudging yourself into the house to find Andrew and go to sleep.

You couldn’t find him anywhere inside or outside of the house. Figuring he probably had something to handle and that it was none of your business, you shrugged and went to Deran’s room. You know he didn't stay here anymore, maybe he was getting too tired to stick around and had to drive home before he passed out.

Waiting for them to arrive you got yourself comfortable, stealing a pair of Deran's oversized sweatpants. You head into the bathroom to freshen up and on the counter you see your clothes that you'd entrusted Andrew with. Folded neatly and placed in the center you see a small note placed on top that read:

"Had to pick up Lena. Looked like you were having fun, didn't want to interrupt. I'll call you soon."

Smiling, you hold the note like it's something sacred for a moment and giggle like a schoolgirl with her first crush before quickly folding it and stuffing it in the pocket of your shorts. The last thing you need is Craig finding it and busting on you for it.

Making yourself comfortable in Deran's bed, you don't wait long before your solitude is broken.

Deran appears first, flopping next to you overtop of the comforter.

“So, what’d you do this time?” He’s half slurring, alcohol and exhaustion making his words fuzzy.

“More like what didn’t she do.” Craig’s voice enters the room before him and you roll your eyes.

“Rude.”

Sitting in a chair Craig grins all smug, not an ounce of remorse in him. His eyes are glazed over and you know the call of sleep isn’t the only thing causing it.

“So you know how Pope picked me up?” You start, looking back to Deran. He nods in acknowledgment, clearly trying his best to stay awake as he leans his head on a hand.

You had planned to try and tactfully bring it up until you realized how exhausted he was. You had to get this debrief over with before he started snoring in your face. Might as well rip off the bandage.

“We were making out in the driveway before we came in.”

Deran’s eyes snap open. “Are you serious?”

Craig starts laughing hysterically, “Dude, I fucking walked in on that shit! I think Pope was about to blow his load before I stopped them.”

It’s as if Craig’s retelling a comedy special that was made especially for him with the way he’s giggling over each word.

Deran takes a moment to process it all, looking from you to Craig and back again.

“He did seem a lot calmer tonight. Didn’t look as homicidal the whole time.”

Craig claps and points to Deran, “Exactly! Our little freak is good for him, she’ll help reintroduce him to society and mellow him out with a good lay.”

“Dude!” You chime in, “I’m right here.”

“He’s got a point.” Deran admits weakly. Then adds, “He does act a little less awkward with you around. He must like you.”

“Trust me dude, he totally does.” Craig smirks.

Laughing despite yourself you quickly deflect with a scoff. “Okay, calm down we just kissed a bit!”You try and defend yourself, “We aren’t even dating yet.” The last part comes out a bit quieter than you mean for it to.

“Oh but you so wanna be.” Craig waggles his eyebrows at you, dragging out the ‘o’.

Scrubbing your face with your hands and groaning you let out a muffled, “Shut up.”

You wait for their laughter to die down before removing your hands. “Craig, feel free to go back to whoever or whatever you were doing. Deran, please change, you smell like stale beer.”

Dramatically fluffing the pillow beneath your head you announce, “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

Sheets ruffling in your ears as you adjust, you hear Craig call out, “Night, freak.” and then the sound of the door closing.

The room is silent apart from the shuffling noises of Deran moving around and the scraping of his drawers.

For years you and Deran have been sharing his bed whenever you stay over. It was natural for the two of you, neither of you found the other’s presence uncomfortable.

When you were younger, you knew he wasn’t interested in girls long before he told you. You figured part of the reason he used to let you stay in his bed was because he was covering. Clearly, it backfired on him because no matter how much he tries to deny it, he enjoys your sleepovers. Now he lets you stay over simply because he wants you to.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Deran’s voice is hushed as he carefully slips under the covers behind you.

Thinking for a moment, you turn to face him in the dark of his bedroom. “I think I do. I think I could grow to really really like him, maybe.” You admit, no point in lying to him.

Another thought hits you a second later, “Is that okay?”

A small laugh meets your ears. “You’re asking me?”

“You’re like,” you sigh dramatically, as if you’re ashamed to admit it, “you’re kinda like my best friend, dude. He’s your brother. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

The words that leave you next are some of the softest you’ve ever shared, the sanctity of the dark room and soft sheets making you too honest. “I’ve lived without him. I haven’t without you.”

Deran listens to everything you say, eyes searching for yours in the dim space. He places a hand gently on your head, fingers curving behind the base of your skull. “You’re not gonna lose me.”

He answers the question no amount of darkness or bedsheets or liquor could get you to admit.

“You’re kinda my best friend, too, freak.” The hand on your head shakes up your hair and you laugh as you playfully swat at him.

Sighing you muse, “Good, it'd be bit embarrassing for me if not.”

“Don't worry, you embarrass yourself plenty regardless. Now go to sleep.” Deran pushes your face to the side and you pinch him before he pulls away.

Silence greets your ears. The only noises are the muffled sounds from Craig’s room separated behind two doors and the soft breathing from Deran beside you.

Letting the summer heat and heaviness in your muscles drag you down, you fall into a heavy sleep with a small smile on your face and the taste of Andrew lingering on your lips.