Ocean Blue ✓

chapter twenty-six

"Why are you so amazing?" she asks just as quietly, then plants pleasantly light pecks along my jawline.

I want to respond, but I don't have the brain power to form words, so I just end up giggling quietly and clutching her harder. I love Elliot's intimate voice. It's quiet and raspy, soft and hard-edged all at once. It drives me absolutely crazy.

After a minute, she pulls away and helps me down from the counter. I'm dizzy. Literally, dizzy. She helps steady me on my feet, and I can tell she's quietly proud of how unsteady I am. I just work on catching my breath and trying to glare at her as best I can through the stupid smile she's got plastered to my stupid face. When she lightly pecks my forehead, though, I swat her away with that stupid big smile and work solely on catching my breath.

She lets my hands go and goes to let Bader in while I lean against the counter. Every day, she lifts him up the stairs like it's no issue. I don't get it. Like, I am plenty strong, but Bader is plenty obese. I would probably snap in half or something. Elliot, on the other hand, just strolls in like "Oh wow a fuzzy piece of paper" and places Bader wherever Bader needs to be.

"What are you staring at?" Elliot asks, smiling as she straightens herself.

"You," I tell her.

She adjusts one of the sleeves of her flannel. "Better me than Bader, I suppose."

"Grosssss."

"It would be gross, yes."

I love that she can't seem to not touch me. It's not something that I ever thought I would love, but really, I love everything about Elliot. She walks over to me and grabs my hips, tugging me into her and craning down nearly a foot to press her lips to mine.

This. I can't believe I didn't always have this.

-

We've fallen down a Jackie Chan rabbit hole. Elliot made some reference I didn't quite understand (which happens a lot; this time, it was something about food trucks and waiters on wheels). Now, we're all the way to The Immigrant and some very serious talk with Pierce Brosnan. She knows this scene word for word, and gosh, is it cute.

"You need to watch more Jackie Chan movies," she says. "I loooove Jackie Chan movies."

"Okay," I promise.

"Okay."

It's nice just cuddling with her. Elliot does this thing where she'll press little kisses against my forehead, and I'm sorry, but it's too cute. I can't.

After half an hour or so, she rolls over to press kisses against my bare shoulder. I thought the tank top was a good idea, even though it's such a lightweight fabric that it keeps riding up on my stomach. Suddenly, Elliot places a hand at the hem of the already-risen shirt, and I suck in a breath.

Our eyes meet. "Can I?" Elliot asks.

"Yes." It's barely a whisper.

We've been fooling around—I don't know what else I would call it—for almost three weeks now, but shirts haven't come off yet. Elliot is crazy gentle as she takes off, and then, when her hands find the back of my bra, I just nod.

My room feels hotter and colder all at the same time. "You're beautiful," Elliot whispers to me in this way that no one could possibly fake, ever. I can't handle it.

I end up giving her a few pointers, but she takes charge pretty well, following her own invisible guidelines. Elliot is completely new at this, but she's already better than Max was. Just, fuck. How? No one can be this good their first time. That can't be a thing.