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Brady
Iprop my surfboard against the wall and enter my bungalow with my wetsuit still hanging from my waist.
Soon, I won’t need a wetsuit, but it’s only the beginning of summer, so the sea can still be chilly early in the morning and after the sun goes down.
I find Matt slouched on the couch of our shared living room and nod in response to his “Sup” before heading straight to the shower to wash away my frustration.
When the others hear the news, they’ll all be extremely pissed too. I’m not looking forward to telling them what just happened.
When I return to the living room, Matt is still in the exact same position I left him in fifteen minutes ago.
“Dude,” he greets me. “Zoe is throwing a party tomorrow night, want to go?”
I roll my eyes. Calling what happens in Zoe’s bungalow a “party” is a real stretch of the imagination. “Orgy” would be a more appropriate term for that. There’s obviously lots of cheap booze, and basically most of the resort’s staff shows up. The last time we went, by 2am people weren’t even looking for a secluded spot or waiting in line to use one of the bedrooms to fuck. They were just doing it in plain sight, either inside or outside the bungalow. Luckily the owners rarely come to the staff area and never at night, or we’d probably all be out of a job. It’s not like it’s hard to find people to work in the service industry on our little island, it’s all the locals can do to earn a living.
“Yeah, no. Pass.” I sigh, grabbing two beers from the mini fridge in the corner and passing one to Matt.
“Aww, dude! Why not? Last time I got my cock sucked three times by three different chicks in the first hour we were there. And don’t tell me you didn’t too, because I saw you.”
I run a hand through my hair and then take a swig of my beer, thinking that I probably could do with something much stronger right now. “Yeah, that’s right, and that’s part of the fucking problem, bro. You know that saying not to shit where you eat? My pop-pops used to say that all the time, and he was damn right. I knew that nothing good could ever come from fucking around with the girls we work with. Things are bound to get awkward at the very least, especially because said girls can’t keep their mouths shut about who they were with.”
Matt barks out a laugh. “Ha, pun totally intended. Their mouths, and not just those, are wide open. Look, it’s just some casual fun, Brady. We work hard, and we play hard. What’s wrong with that?”
I was going to wait until Drew was done with dinner, but he’ll be at work for at least another hour, so I might as well open the can of worms already. “Well fuck, that’s what I thought too. Some fucking harmless fun, get our rocks off, and then just go back to being colleagues. But Carly obviously thought that letting her suck me off meant much more than just letting off steam at a party.”
Matt drains his beer and places the empty bottle on the coffee table. I have his full attention. “She’s still trying to cling?”
Cling isn’t even the right word. That girl’s clingier than fucking Saran wrap, and I didn’t even fuck her. I don’t want to think what she’d have done if I had.
“Yeah,” I say dryly. “Earlier this morning, she saw me giving a surfing lesson to that brunette who arrived last week with her family. She threw a fit and we argued. I told her to get lost and find someone else who had time for her stupid games, and she left really pissed. I found her waiting for me about an hour ago when I was done with practice.”
Matt clearly doesn’t suspect a thing yet, because he chuckles. “Were you being handsy with your student?”
“Fuck off, dude,” I snap. “You know it isn’t like that. I was being nice, but you heard Mr. Manning when he hired us. We have to be friendly to the guests, show them a good time, and flirt a little, but it ends there. The guests are totally off-limits, and dismissal is the only outcome if we ever get caught fucking with them. This is mostly a place for families, and our behavior toward the guests has to be beyond reproach. So no, I wasn’t getting handsy, but the girl was flirting and I was flirting back because that’s my fucking job. Carly was absolutely livid. She waited for me and started calling me an asshole and saying that I was leading her on.”
Matt lets out a low whistle. “Dude! That’s so much fucking trouble for just a blowie. Now, if you fucked her maybe I’d have understood. Did you tell her to stop sucking random dick at parties if she wants a boyfriend?”
My eyes are fixed on the floor. Matt has no idea how much I just blew it for all of us. “I sure did. I told her I’m not in the market for a girlfriend, and yeah, I might have said that even if I was, I’d probably look for someone who hasn’t sucked the dick of every single one of my male co-workers.”
“I don’t fucking blame you, dude. And trust me, I’m not judging. It’s just that, yeah, I wouldn’t want to have a picture in my head of my girl with a cock in her mouth that isn’t mine. Those parties are just an excuse to get laid with no strings attached, everyone knows it.”
I nod, agreeing with him and wishing that Carly had been on the same page. “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I told Carly and she freaked out, called me an asshole and started crying.”
Matt swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with the movement. “Fuck, I can’t deal with crying chicks. That’s why I don’t fucking date. I—there’s something that makes me panic whenever I see a chick crying.”
“Yeah, you and me both,” I agree.
“But that’s one more reason to go to tomorrow night’s party. Just stay away from Carly, that’s all. Maybe she needs to see with her own eyes that last week was just a casual hookup.”
It’s not that simple. “The thing is, I’m not in the fucking mood anyway. When I stuck my dick in Carly’s mouth and then blew her off, I fucked everything up, our whole plan. Because of me, we’ve just lost our sponsor for the surfing tournament.”
Matt doesn’t immediately make the connection. “What the fuck does a crazy chick have to do with our sponsor? I thought Mr. Howard was excited to compete in the most prestigious sporting event in Northern California. The competition is televised worldwide, so that would be a tremendous amount of publicity for his shop even if we didn’t win, which we will because we have you on our team.”
I cover my face with both hands. “Yeah, you’re right. That would be all copacetic if Carly’s last name wasn’t Howard.”
He finally connects the dots. “Please tell me that you’re shitting me.”
