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I shrug. “What? I just told him—”
“—that you’re ‘so not interested in a hook-up’?” Rico lets out a choked, manic laugh of disbelief. “That is literally all we are interested in. Oh my god, if you tell me your ass doesn’t want to be in a hot threesome sandwich with that Superman of a hunk, you are a damned liar.”
I’ll say it until I’m blue in the face and my balls, and Rico still won’t understand. “It’s never been my thing. I’m just not into the casual stuff that you enjoy. I mean, more power to you,” I quickly add. “Go get ‘im. He’s all yours.”
“You’re really getting on my last nerve this weekend.”
I sigh. “Why? Because I like reading and relaxing and being super-duper lame on vacation?”
Rico squints critically at me. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Doing what on purpose?”
“You know exactly what. In fact …” He puts his hands on my shoulders and brings his face close. “I’m going to selflessly set aside my frustrations so that I can help you, yet again—friend to hopeless friend—and keep you from self-sabotaging.”
“I’m not self-sabotaging. I’m just telling you in a very literal way that I don’t want the same things you do.”
“Yes, you do. You have a cock. You have a brain. You want the same things I do. Look at that fire. Isn’t it neat?”
I give it half a glance. “Sure. And big.”
“The more you feed the fire, the bigger it gets.”
“Okay.”
“And if we don’t throw stuff into that fire, it dies.”
Alright, so Rico’s creating a metaphor here. “So is my cock the fire or something …?”
“It’s your horniness, my friend. Your manly, malely, mannish horniness. Your desire to get off. Your need to let out that steam. Your lusty libido. That’s the fire. And I’ve literally brought you a keg of gasoline. His name’s Adrian.”
I sigh. “Rico …”
“In fact, he’s more than a keg. He’s a tank. Jonah, if you don’t fuck that guy with me, I will never forgive you.”
My eyes catch sight of a face through the fire, as if the tongues of flame literally sweep apart by the wind for one fleeting instant, to grace me with the sight of that face.
It’s Kent’s face.
For one excruciating half-second.
His face, staring right at mine.
Then the flame twists, and he’s gone. I look to the left, then the right, then even try to peer around the fire, but I don’t see him again. Where’d he go?
Suddenly Rico throws up his hands. “Fine. Be that way. Do whatever you want.”
I face my friend, distracted. “Sorry, what?”
“Alright, so you don’t want to slut-shame me. That’s oh-so-sweet of you. I don’t want to … nerd-shame you, or whatever the freaky fuck the equivalent is. But I’ll promise you one thing: I’m going to bang the hell out of that motherfucker tonight, with or without you.”
Rico leaves me with that, and I watch him reunite with Adrian—who doesn’t seem to give me another ounce of thought as he puts an arm around Rico’s back and leads him away with bottles of beer in hand, my drink forgotten apparently.
I should probably be hurt and feel excluded and all that. Instead, all I feel is downright relief. The last thing I needed tonight was to be roped into Rico’s sexual scheme. And if we’re being totally honest here, I doubt he wanted to share Adrian anyway. Hell, he’s probably jumping for joy right now. Or at least his dick is.
“Did my tool of a twin already get distracted and find someone else?”
I spin around.
It’s Kent. And out of his funnel-cake-sailor uniform, he is a total snack. Loose sleeveless shirt that somehow still accentuates his athletic shape, the armholes so low, they show off his oblique muscles and sexy, tapered hips. His hair is an adorable mess of short brown spikes with blond tips and cowlicks all over, and his mouth is twisted by that petulant pout.
But his eyes look shielded and heavy, like a grumpy child who was just scolded or had his toy taken away. He’s probably the only guy in history who makes a permanent-annoyed-pouting face look sexy.
I lift an eyebrow. “Wait. Did you just say ‘twin’ …?”
“Fraternal twin.” Kent crosses his arms and sneers, peering off in the direction where they went. “The bastard is nothing like me at all.”
“Adrian? You and Adrian are brothers?” I gaze off, too. The beach is dark wherever they went, so I can’t make out their shapes anymore. The shape is probably a bent-over-something kind of situation, anyway. “I wouldn’t have guessed in a million years.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. I sure hope you plan to be there for your friend afterwards when my brother crushes his heart.” Kent looks at me, his eyes flashing in the firelight. “He has a reputation for that, you know. His exes call him the Heart Crusher. They’ve probably formed a club with a group text and everything.”
