Page 15

“One, two, three.” We hit our fists on our palms before I choose scissors and he chooses a rock.

Damn it. “Best two out of three,” I insist, but it doesn’t help. Desmond wins by one, and he chooses to be it. He closes his eyes to count while the three of us all separate in the pool, trying to stay away from him.

“Marco!” Desmond calls out when he’s done.

“Polo!” T, Andrea, and I all say from different areas of the pool.

“Marco!” comes from Des again before we repeat it.

He gets Andrea out first, followed by Tiana. He doesn’t even seem to be following my voice at all, but once the two girls are sitting on the edge of the pool, I realize why. He wanted it to be like this…wanted it to be just him and me.

Goose bumps I have no excuse feeling pebble along my skin.

“Marco,” he says while I linger along the opposite side of the pool from him.

“Polo,” I reply, trying to move quietly and without making too many waves so he can’t follow my voice.

We continue that way, each of us calling out the words we’re supposed to, with Desmond chasing and me running away. It’s similar to how it was when we first met. Not that I was running from him, and I guess he wasn’t chasing me the same way, but he’s the one who started talking to me. He asked me to hang, and at the end of the first day, I probably would have just gone my own way, thinking it was a one-time thing, but it was him who asked if I wanted to chill the next day too.

If it hadn’t been for him, I probably would have been like my father and not left the house most of the trip. Desmond is good at getting me to do things without me even realizing it’s happening.

“Marco!” he calls out again, followed by me replying. He doesn’t go slow this time, doesn’t tease with the idea of going after me, instead diving in my direction and swimming. I have no choice but to swim away as well, which is a whole lot louder than how I was sneaking away from him before.

The motherfucker is a fast swimmer, because of course he is. Desmond is good at most things, but then again, not to be a cocky bastard, so am I.

I dive under the water when he gets close and slip up slowly, Desmond not realizing which direction I went.

He calls out again, and I have no choice but to reply, and then he’s jumping for me. I try to go underwater again, but Desmond does too, arms around me similar to how they were on the sand that last day—the one where he tackled me, bought me dinner, and spent most of the night kissing me.

My body stiffens, and I have to admit, my cock does too, enjoying the feel of his hard body against mine.

He jerks away, though, much like I did the first time, like I’d burned him or something, and we both shoot out of the water, Desmond with his eyes open this time.

“Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean…” he says softly.

“No, it’s cool. Your eyes were closed. It was nothing.”

Just like our time together was supposed to have been nothing. A fling. It didn’t mean anything to him, and I’ve spent eleven years telling myself it meant nothing to me either.

Our eyes meet. Not just a normal kind of meeting, but in a way we haven’t let ourselves do in years. He still smells like honey, but now it’s mixed with chlorine. His eyes are darker brown than mine, his lashes thicker, lips plump, and my first thought is, I kissed those lips. They’re the only ones I’ve ever kissed except Ree’s.

“Daddy! You weren’t supposed to let him win!” Tiana says, and I jump away from Desmond like I’d been doing something I’m not supposed to, like I was touching him in ways my damn fool body still wants to.

“It’s not his fault. I never lose,” Desmond tells her before I can say a word. Then he just swims away, toward the girls, like nothing happened. Probably because nothing did happen. I’m hard up or something. Ree and I hadn’t had sex for two months before we separated, so it’s been a while for me.

That’s all this is. My body wants release, and my hand isn’t enough. Maybe I should see if GameOn057 wants to hook up, find a guy to fuck, or… Hell, I don’t want that. I mean, I do want that, but I don’t. I’m not the kind of guy who can just fuck anyone, and I sure as shit couldn’t with a guy—not when I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing or if I could trust them.

“You lose,” I argue. In fact, the last time our teams played the previous season, the Pulse won, but I don’t rub that in his face.

“I rarely lose,” he amends. “And I didn’t lose to you today.” He gives his attention back to the girls. “Basketball?” he asks them.

“Yes!” they both shout, jumping back into the water.

“Me and T against you and Andrea,” I say, automatically including myself. He’s not getting me twice in a row.

“Oh, did you want to play too?” he asks. “I thought you might be tired of losing.”

“I think you’re afraid I’ll beat you,” I counter.