Ocean Blue ✓

chapter twenty-eight

alyssa

My heart is a dull thump in my chest, and I can't decide if I'm shivering from the slight frigity riding the night air or from Elliot's touch. I think we've both decided we're going to Breakneck Cliff. That's what I'm assuming, at least.

Sure enough, as soon as we've passed over the grassy knoll that separates the path from the pale silver-lit beach, she's tugging me across the sand and towards the hill, and I'm trying my best to outrun her, but she's surprisingly fast—especially with those long, long legs.

Elliot beats me up the hill, cackling like she's just pulled off some maniacal heist. "I am the athlete," she says from up ahead. "I am the Hercules. I am the Olympic gold winner. And the breadwinner."

"Shut up," I laugh, jogging to join her. "It's hard to run when you actually have tits."

"I am not going to sympathise, because I love your boobies."

"Double shut up." I slap her arm lightly, and she grabs my wrist, causing my breath to hitch. My heart hammers at a million miles per hour as she presses her lips against the suddenly-sensitive skin there. "You're such a doofus."

"Shut up," she whispers, releasing my wrist and bringing her hands to my hips. "No you."

"Man, I remember that meme. What is this, 2017? Your mom definitely gay."

"Your dad more lesbian." Elliot kisses that stupidly soft spot on my neck, and I giggle, threading my fingers through her hair like I find myself doing every time she brings mouth to meet skin.

"Does that tickle?" she asks, and I can feel her smile as she continues to apply light pressure to that same spot.

Hell yes. "Maybe."

Before I know it, we're both stumbling backwards and onto the grass, fumbling our way to a more horizontal position. Elliot is between my legs, and when she scooches slightly to bring her mouth from my neck to my lips, I feel the friction like electricity. I'm in a skirt, I remember, and it's a good kind of terrifying.

"Fuck, Alyssa," she whispers, and I make some noise I've never heard before in agreement.

One hand continues to prop her up slightly while the other comes to rest under my shirt, settled on my stomach. I'm on sensory overload, suddenly, and everything is equal amounts of nervous anticipation and excitedness. I want to ask her to touch me, but I can't even form the words.

"Is this okay?" Elliot asks gently, her hand slowly tracing downward from my stomach to the high waist of my skirt and beyond.

I know I need to say yes. She won't continue if I don't. I want to say yes—I'm just completely out of breath. She waits for me to find the words to urge her on, and when I do, I bite my lip and do my best to stay quiet. We're outside, but we remain undisturbed, and everything feels fantastic. More than fantastic.

"You should sleep over," I whisper to her, and her eyes catch the faint moonlight just right, making them shine through the darkness.

She runs gentle fingers through my hair. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." My voice cracks, and I'm glad it's just dark enough to where she can't see my slight grimace. "Yes. I'm not about to do anything more outside. So. Yes. If you want to."

Her fingers in my hair feel perfect. Her fingers anywhere feel perfect, actually. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'll call my parents. Right now."

"Please do."

I can hardly believe her. She just feels too good to be true. Elliot pulls away and scrambles to find her phone, which she'd tossed lightly from her pocket. She paces as she waits for them to pick up, and her voice takes on a slightly different quality. I've noticed it from other times she's called her parents—this must be her mom picking up. You can always tell.