Fuck.
Did I really?
I like Heather. She and I get each other.
At least I thought we did.
Why would I call her another name?
“So you fancy the Brit, huh?” Heather splashes me, and not nicely. Then she pulls herself out of the pool, water dripping from her luscious body. She stalks away, her wet footprints evaporating quickly on the warm pool deck as she heads toward the locker room.
I watch her go, torn between the urge to apologize and the sting of wounded pride. The early evening breeze ruffles the surface of the water.
With a sigh, I haul myself out of the pool, feeling like an absolute tool. I hadn’t meant to call her another name. I like her. A lot.
And Emily…
I was so drawn to her at first, and I thought I still was. But am I? Or is it just more wounded pride that she wouldn’t sleep with me again because she’s in love with Riv?
I have much more in common with Heather—our LAlifestyle, the parties, the late nights, the need to look flawless even when we feel like shit inside. She gets the pressure. The vanity. The vulnerability under it.
“Wait,” I call after her.
She doesn’t stop.
Doesn’t even look over her shoulder. She opens the door to the women’s locker room, clearly royally pissed off.
But why? Sure, maybe I said the wrong name, but it’s not like she hasn’t fooled around with others here. She and June have had their own little pussy party.
Still, I feel like a heel because I upset her. And because I truly do like her.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath and get out of the pool. I make my way toward the women’s locker room. “Heather!” I call out again.
No response.
I knock on the door. “Come on. Come out. Please. Let me explain.”
But explain what? I don’t even remember saying Emily’s name. I knew I was with Heather. What the hell is wrong with me?
A moment later, Heather emerges, a robe wrapped around her, and her hair neatly combed back. She pushes me out of the way.
“Come on, baby,” I say.
She turns, her hair whipping around and spraying me with water droplets. “Baby? Seriously?”
“We’ve had some good times,” I say. “Some really good times. You and June have had good times. And I’m pretty sure I glimpsed you working out with River the other day.”
She rolls her eyes. “Get over yourself. This isn’t about who you’ve fucked, Sebastian. It’s aboutknowingwho you’re fucking.It’s not like I mistook June foryouwhen she was eating me out.”
“Heather…”
“Fuck off.” The robe slides over her shoulder, and her viper tattoo peeks out.
She’s so sexy. So beautiful.
All the women are, but it’s like comparing apples to oranges. Heather is Heather. She’s not Emily, and I’d never want her to be.
I catch up to her before she leaves the pool area and grab her from behind. I kiss the soft skin of her shoulder, sliding my tongue over the viper’s head.
