AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I blink. “I don’t look boring, do I? I like this tank top.”
“So does every straight boy from the 90s. No, my friend, you are not going to the beach like that. You have such better style and fashion knowhow than that, for one. Secondly, what’d we talk about before leaving Houston?”
“Not to slut shame you?”
“Other than that.”
“Not to embarrass you in front of anyone we meet?”
“Well, yes, that too, but also that we’re going to live it the fuck up here on Dreamwood Isle. Haven’t you seen the guys walking around this place? They’re wearing less than I am right now. C’mon, sell what your mama gave you! I packed you something.”
Rico shoves me aside and fishes through my things. When he yanks it out at last, my eyes grow double. “I am not wearing that.”
“Like hell you aren’t. This weekend is ours, my friend! Put these on and lose the shirt.”
I know there’s no use arguing. When Rico makes demands, he always gets his way, even if he talks down to me in doing so. It’s not the first time he said I look like a straight boy from the 90s. It took me hearing it from him until junior year of high school before I realized it wasn’t a compliment.
And besides, he kinda does have a point. This is our crazy vacation, isn’t it? We ought to abandon ourselves a little and live it up, like Rico says.
And by live it up, he means get slutty.
I trade my outfit for the one he hands me: a pair of leaves-nothing-to-the-imagination tight, sunshine-yellow trunks that literally scream to be looked at. Standing side-by-side in the bathroom mirror for one last check, with his white Speedos and my yellow trunks next to each other, our bulges look like a pair of sunny-side-up eggs.
“Are we hot,” asks Rico, “or are we hot?”
I observe my best friend, with whom I go way back. Ever since we went head-to-head in rival debate teams freshman year of high school, we’ve been inseparable. I can’t even say what the debate was over, let alone who won, but it wasn’t long before we discovered we both liked guys, and we hit it off at a Chuck E. Cheese with our teams surrounding us chowing down on pizza. We never dated, since we established early on that we made much better friends than anything else (including debate rivals), but he’s been my shoulder more times than I can count. I’ve been his way out for many a bad date. We’re roommates. We work together at the same clothing store, and we blow off steam together, too. I couldn’t think of a better friend to take on this long weekend vacation.
“We’re hot,” I decide, “but … I’m wearing a towel.”
Rico rounds on me. “Jonah.”
“I’m wearing a towel! It’s called compromise, dear Rico, a useful adult skill you need to practice more.” After snatching a towel to wrap around my waist, and bearing a few more taunting jabs from Rico, we slip on our sandals, grab a bag of our stuff, and head out.
Our hotel is on Boardwalk Street, directly in front of the beach and nearest to the Quicksilver Strand itself, where a line of whimsical restaurants and crowded stores face the water. We’re definitely planning to hit those up later, maybe to get some dinner and check out a few shops. But for now, our quest is to seek out the perfect spot on that beach, hit the water, and bake all afternoon in the Texas sun with the waves crashing at our feet. Rico has a sixth sense for “perfect spot” detecting, so it isn’t long before the pair of us are lounging comfortably on a large blue beach towel, not too close and not too far from the water. Half-naked men are everywhere in sight, laying out on the sand, wading through the shallows, or just strolling around the beach meeting up with friends. I spot a pair of hot surfers riding the waves, too.
I’ve barely been here half an hour and already the possibilities of this weekend seem endless.
Rico pops open a bottle of suntan lotion. A guy near us turns to watch him, and his eyes fill with interest. You don’t need a degree in psychology to understand what’s on his mind: Rico just became a tasty new snack.
“You’re getting ogled,” I mutter under my breath.
“Really?” asks Rico. “Maybe you should take off your ‘modesty towel’ and you’d get ogled, too.”
“When we get in the water.”
“Can you do my back? Actually, wait, not yet. I want the oglers to know I’m single and not get the wrong idea about us.”
I smirk. Just then, a couple of guys pass by, and their eyes are all over Rico. Yes, I do notice neither of the men even so much as glance my way.
