Page 44 of King of Hollywood
My heart lurched, and all too soon our little, precious moment was over. A chime rang over the crowd, the thunk of a second ball hitting the target square-on, causing a riot of chatter to explode around me. There was a creaking sound, a snap, and suddenly Felix was in the water.
When he popped back out, I wasn’t certain what I expected.
But once again, it wasn’t what I received.
Apparently, I wasn’t very good at predicting things today, because rather than looking contrite, irritated, or ready to murder—as I would—Felix looked…god—he looked happy.
Brighter than the stars that flickered in the sky above. His smile was riveting, all wide angles and sharp edges—pointy, crooked teeth glistening. When he stood, water cascaded down his lithe form. The t-shirt he wore left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It stuck to his nipples, creasing at his shoulders and chest, highlighting the swell of his pecs and the curve of his supple biceps.
His trousers were no better. They clung to the curve of his cock, wrinkling around it, and making its presence rather obvious. When he pulled the hem of the shirt up—flashing the crowd his flat, pale belly, I nearly shoved my way through them to cover him up.
But I was far too riveted.
There was a dark trail of delicious that led from the hem of his pants upward toward his belly button, and it taunted me as Felix wrung water out of his borrowed shirt, then let it drop back into place. Water droplets tickled down his sculpted forearms into the small pool he stood in.
The water came all the way to his knees, practically drowning him.
Somehow, Felix had lost the hat and the sunglasses.
They floated and sunk, respectively, as he tipped his head back and laughed.
I’d never truly believed in God, despite living in a home that went to church every Sunday. My mother had sworn by his grace, and all my life I’d prayed, despite never truly feeling any faith myself.
But in that moment, I believed.
Because Felix Finley was so damn beautiful, only a god could’ve made him.
His eyes found mine, and my stomach squirmed as that gorgeous grin was directed my way. There was something familiar about his smile. Like I’d seen it before. Like this wasn’t the first time it had caught my attention—but that thought quickly passed.
When Felix’s eyes met mine the crowd melted away like they’d never been there at all. It was just us, just the stars, just the long, lovely line of his neck, his dimples, and the water that glistened like jewels on his pale skin.
As quickly as it had come, our moment was broken.
Felix moved out of the way and the diving board snapped back into place. And then he climbed back on top of it, his ass flexing in his wet pants, to start the process all over again.
Over the course of the next hour, up and down, over and over, Felix fell and fell and fell.
And every time he did, he found me in the crowd, he smiled, and he laughed.
Like we were sharing a private joke.
A private moment.
Like we were the only two people here.
I wasn’t sure my heart had ever really worked properly, not till that night, with Felix’s joy directed at me. For a man that was taking my punishment, he sure didn’t seem all that upset. I wanted to know everything about him. I wanted to know why he hid behind his hats, why he covered up a face so pretty even the angels would be jealous.
I wanted to know why he killed.
Why he didn’t often cry.
Why he cared about me when all I’d ever done was complain about his lawn and accidentally steal his packages.
I wanted to know why he kept cats.
Why he had no repeat visitors.
Why his house was a time capsule.