Eleven
Gray
The rain began as a gentle mist that floated down from the sky, descending on us like a gossamer curtain.
“Take this,” Liam said, and I turned to find him unbuttoning his flannel. He shucked out of it and handed it over. “Put it over your head and don’t look up at the rain. Try your best not to take deep breaths.”
“What are you talking about? It’s just—”
“Take it, Gray. Do it now.”
I reached for the shirt, trying not to ogle his bare chest, his well-defined arms, the way his abs bunched as he leaned closer. There was a small tattoo peeking out over his hip bone that looked a bit like a… a pineapple, maybe? Before I could confirm, he motioned again for me to cover up, and I indulged him, draping the flannel over my head and letting the sleeves hang down over my shoulders.
