I'm laying on my back with my head comfortably propped on pillows, while I tap my bottom lip in contemplation as I stare at the top of my game board, trying to figure out where Christian has hidden his last three remaining ships. I've already sunk two of them, while Christian has yet to sink one of mine. I sigh and lean my chin in my palm, while Christian eyes me and I glance back at him with a wide smile. I chuckle and my smile widens as I say, "I'm going to call F6."

I say as my eyes flicker up just in time to see Christian silently curse, and sigh as he responds, "Yet another hit . . ."

I bite my lip against a grin, and cross my arms above my head as I mumble, "I'm undefeatable."

Christian rolls his eyes, and comments, "Don't get cocky now, Beau, I still have a lot of unmarked spaces I can call . . ."

I grin in response and say, "Then you should step up your game, because so far you're losing horribly."

Christian huffs and purses his lips before saying, "H5."

I glance down at my board, and notice he's only one away from hitting a ship. I internally sigh with relief and reply, "Miss."

"Ugh! This game is frustrating," Christian cries.

I giggle and say, "Hey, don't give up! I'm having fun."

"That's because you're winning," Christian grumbles.

"Okay . . . Hmm, should I tell you where one of my ships is hiding?" I ask.

"No, I don't want your pity ships," Christian grumbles.

I roll my eyes and reply, "Fine then, but if you lose you have to eat that old sandwich . . ."

"You're serious about that?" Christian cries.

I grin and sit up, and leaning closer I reply, "I'm deadly serious."

Christian huffs, but then a slow smile curves his lips and he says, "Okay, and you know, either way you'll still have to ride my motorcycle."

"That's not even fair!" I yell as I jerk back and smack the bed; Christian chuckles. "As the winner, shouldn't I be able to pick?"

Christian shakes his head and chirps, "Nope."

"Ugh!" I groan. "So not fair . . ."

Christian just laughs, and we're about to proceed with our game when there's a knock at the door, and Christian's mother calls, "Boys, dinner is ready!"

"Okay! Thanks, Mom," Christian calls back. Then he glances at me with a sigh, and mutters, "Let's put the game on temporary timeout."

"How about permanent timeout?" I suggest.

Christian laughs and climbs off the bed, and he grabs my hand to help me climb off too. He quickly kisses my forehead and keeps our fingers laced together as he says, "You know, a permanent timeout won't stop me from finding ways to get you in the driver's seat of my bike."

I purse my lips and curiously mutter, "Why are you so determined to teach me?"

"You'll understand after I've taught you . . ." Christian replies back mysteriously.

Well, that was really helpful, I think with an internal eye roll.

Christian remains his firm yet gentle grip on my hand as he leads me downstairs to the kitchen, where his parents have set the table and the mouth watering aroma of freshly made pasta permeates the air.

"Oh my god, dinner smells so good," I say as Christian pulls out my chair for me before sitting down himself.

"Thank you, Beau," Mrs. Philips says with a smile, as she also takes her seat while Mr. Philips places a big glass bowl full of the pasta onto the middle of the dining table.

"Do you do a lot of cooking yourself, Beau?" Mr. Philips asks as he also sits down, and passes the bowl towards me.

I blush as I take it, and ladle out a small but descent amount. "Um, not really," I reply as I slide the bowl towards Christian. "I mainly make quick and easy meals for myself after school, and try to have something for my mom when she gets off her day shift as a nurse."

"Your mother's a nurse?" Mrs. Philips asks; I nod. "That's such an honorable career. I wanted to go into medicine myself when I was younger, but turns out cooking was my passion, and I chose to persue that instead." Mrs. Philips says with a smile. "But Christian's brother, Michael, is in his last few years of medical school."

"He tried convincing Christian to become a doctor with him," Mrs. Philips says as she smiles and looks at her son. "Michael would always say they would make the best doctor duo, but our little grease monkey is more into rebuilding machines than people." Mrs. Philips says as she softly laughs.

I smile and peek over at Christian, who has turned a very deep tomato red. I've never seen him blush so deeply before, and I so badly find myself wanting to capture a picture of this rare moment. Christian huffs and purses his lips as he sinks into his chair, and finding the whole situation intriguing, I ask, "Why do you call him a grease monkey?"

Mr. Philips laughs and says, "Because he would always spend hours in the garage working on bikes and cars, and every time he would come inside for dinner or a break, he'd be covered head to toe in black grease. We were always buying him new T-shirts."

My smile widens, and from the corner of my eye I notice Christian sink further into his chair. But I'm too curious to stop, so instead I vow to apologize later after I've learned very possible story about Christian as I can.

"What was he like as a boy?" I ask curiously as I take a small bite of ravioli.

Mrs. Philips laughs as she glances at her silently sulking son, before she glances at me and says, "Christian was much the same. Although as a boy, he would say everything he was thinking until he turned six and knew better. He got a lot of time outs." Mrs. Philips chuckles; I laugh too. "He also liked to play tricks on his brother, which also got him into trouble. Luckily, he seems to have grown out of his mischief."

I bite my bottom lip knowingly, and peek over at Christian, as I think, Oh, he's still plenty mischievous.

I smile, and deciding to cut Christian a break, I glance up at his parents and ask, "Is Michael coming home for a visit any time soon, I'd like to meet him too."

"Oh, um . . ." Mrs. Philips trails off in thought, and then she glances at her husband, who just shrugs.

"He has fall break next week, Mom. He said he was coming for a visit," Christian mutters as he briefly glances at me before looking away.

I frown, and I feel guilt squeeze at my heart as I think, He's not mad at me, is he? Please, don't be mad, Christian? All I wanted was to know about your childhood, I'm sorry if I upset you . . .

And then the conversation begins to dwindle away, as we all turn our attention to the ravioli and the delicious sauce. Once we've all eaten, I thank Christian's parents for letting me stay for dinner, and then Christian and I go back upstairs to his room. He closes the door behind us, and doesn't say anything as he walks toward his dresser and opens it, he pulls out a clean shirt and takes off the one he's wearing before putting on the clean one.

I bite my bottom lip nervously as I watch him continue to riffle through his top drawer, before he pulls something out and closes the drawer before walking towards the bed. I watch as he sits down, my mind racing with a hundred scenarios, but the outcome that I'm not expecting is the one he uses.

Christian glances up at me from beneath his lashes, and slowly beckons toward me as he softly mutters, "Sit by me, Beau, I have something I want to show you."

I chew my bottom lip unsurely as I slowly step forward, and Christian has to grab my hand and pull me into the bed. I gasp as I land beside him, while he slowly laces our fingers together and asks, "Do you still want to know about my childhood?"

I nod hesitantly, speechless as Christian slowly cracks open an old book that, upon closer inspection, is actually an old scrapbook. He carefully flips it open to the first page, that is dog-eared and dedicated to Michael and Christian. On the page just after the dedication, are two sides of pictures for both brothers showing moments of their first few baby pictures taken in the hospital.

My smile softens as I carefully reach out and gently run my fingers over a picture of baby Christian, wrapped in a blue hospital blanket and wearing a homemade hat with his name embroidered into the fabric with love. "You were so small," I whisper.

Christian smiles and chuckles as he squeezes my hand, and leans over to kiss my cheek as he softly replies, "I'm sure you were too, and I bet you were even cuter than a box of kittens."

My cheeks heat up at his comment, and to avoid having to meet his gaze, I turn to the next page. It's more pictures of both brothers, but this time they're at home. I smile as I scan each one, before slowly flipping to the next page. As I carefully digest every detail of little baby Christian, I can feel the not so little and fully grown Christian watching me.

His gaze feels hot against my skin, although it could just be my imagination, and as I slowly flip further into the book he begins to play with the hair by my ear; threading it through his fingers and brushing it back from my forehead. He's so incredibly distracting, and I'm not even completely sure if he realizes what his actions are doing to me.

My breathing has grown levitated, and I can practically hear my pulse racing in my ears. Christian continues to unknowingly drive me mad, while I focus with all my might not to toss his scrapbook to the side and jump him. But the harder I try not to focus on kissing him and imagining his thick hair between my fingers, the harder it becomes to ignore him. And before I've even consciously made up my mind, I'm closing his childhood scrapbook and pushing it towards the head of the bed as my hands sink into Christian's hair, just the way I had imagined they would.

I catch him off guard, and for a moment he's too surprised to kiss me. After another moment, the surprise quickly melts away, and his hands slowly slide up the length of my back and sink into the hair at the nape of my neck. I hear myself moan into the kiss, but I'm so far pass the point of embarrassment to care. Instead, my confidence grows at the sound of Christian's answering moan, and I find myself shifting my legs and suddenly I'm straddling Christian's lap.

My breathing has turned into breathlessly gasps, and my chest is tight with the effort of restraint. I can feel a growing bulge in Christian's pants, and it's pressing against my own. It's incredibly difficult for me, but somehow I manage to rip myself away from Christian. I draw in a ragged breath and collapse back onto his pillows, as I squeeze my eyes closed and rub my thighs together in hopes to relieve the pressure. It takes everything I possess to think about anything other than the amazingly sweet, kind, and incredibly handsome boy sitting mere inches away from me —- close enough to touch —- so the heat consuming me doesn't immediately begin to rush down south again.

Inhaling a deep and steady breath, I slowly peek my eyes open to notice Christian is sprawled out on his back, with a determined expression I imagine resembled my own. He's just as affected as I am.... I think with a hint of pride. It's nice knowing I can affect Christian like that, just as he affects me.

But that can also be a complication for us because if things had continued . . . I shake off the thought, and think, Christian wouldn't have let it continue. He'd knows I'm not ready, but . . . It had still felt so good.

I sigh to myself, and think, We're going to have be more careful from now on . . . Maybe just a quick peck on the lips is all that is safe now? I hope not.... I've come to love kissing Christian too much to only have to settle for a peck on the lips. We'll just have to be more careful is all . . .

Word count: 2,145

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A/N: Hello, lovelies! How did you like the chapter, it's one of my favorites. What was your favorite part? 😄 And aren't they just so sweet together? 😊

Thank you for reading, and please, don't forget to share your thoughts and love. Have an amazing day/night!

Love from,
BunnyBaekkiee ❤️