The Twilight Twenty-Five
thetwilight25 dot com
Prompt: 21
Pen Name: Chocaholic123
Pairing/Character(s): Bella / Edward / Rosalie / Emmett / Mike
Rating: M
Word Count: 487
Photo prompts can be found here:
thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts
A/N I can't believe we've hit 21 already. Only another 4 to go. Have a great weekend. Choc xx
"He's looking at you again," Rose says with a sing-song voice and I roll over on my sun lounger, shielding my eyes from the glare of the sun.
"He's just got bad eyesight," I reply, rolling my eyes as Mike Newton turns on his high lifeguard seat, his abdomen way too bronzed for this early in the summer. "I'm not interested. He knows that." He should do, I've told him way too many times. His parents are friends with mine, and everybody assumes we're a foregone conclusion. Including Mike.
"You could do worse," Rose muses, fluttering her eyelids as Emmett McCarty strides into view, his speedos way too tight for a man that size. "I mean, he's into you."
I resist the urge to roll my eyes, turning back onto my side so I can stare out of the club. On the other side of the road there's a construction site, and I've been fascinated by the way they carry the bricks, their muscles taut and built from hard labor. Compared to their masculine physiques, the boys around the pool look almost feminine. Apart from Emmett, that is. Because he's pretty much a monster.
"What are you looking at?"
"Nothing." My guilty reply comes out a bit too fast. Rose knows all my tells, she can detect the difference between a truth and a lie better than any machine.
"Liar. Come on, what's so fascinating about ..." Her voice trails off as he comes into view. His jeans are slung low across his hips, covered with a utility belt full of tools. It's been so hot these past few days that he's working with his top off, revealing a body rippled with muscle and etched with ink. We watch, open-mouthed, as he picks up a hod full of bricks, making the muscles in his back contract. I sigh loudly.
"Oh, wow." Rose looks like she's drooling. All thoughts of swim instructors and lifeguards have flown out of our minds. "That's hot."
"I saw him first," I murmur. I've stared at him every day for the past week. A couple of times he's stopped and looked over at the pool. I kid myself he's staring at me.
"It doesn't matter. Your parents would kill you if you hooked up with a guy like that."
I don't need to tell her that her folks would, too. Because a man that hot would never fit in at the country club. I can't even imagine what the venerable Charles Swan would say if I walked into the restaurant with hottie construction guy on my arm.
"I don't care." I'm so sick of the rules, of being told what I can't do. "I'm going over to say hi." I grab my shorts and wiggle into them.
"You can't."
I catch his eye again, and I swear he's smiling right at me. "Oh yes I can. Watch me."