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“Uh—nothing,” I say in a strained rush.
“Is it Kayla? Or another hottie blowing up your phone?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “See if she has any friends that want to go to the bonfire this weekend.”
“It’s not.” But I can’t tell him who it is. If he saw Tate’s messages, he’d lose his shit. “I’m done with girls like Kayla.”
He shrugs it off and leaves me to it. While he sits in the back and cracks open a bottle of water, I turn around and stab my fingers over the touchscreen keyboard.
Cooper:NO.
Her response is immediate.
Tatum:No…? No to Mr. 8-pack gym bro, or no to the first time pain? Elaborate, please.
At the mention of the second guy, a low growl vibrates in my throat. My fingers fly over the keyboard before I can think logically.
Cooper:Don’t swipe for him. Don’t message him. I’m never letting him touch you. Same goes for ANY of those guys.
Tatum:Just like you won’t touch me?
Cooper:That’s different.
Tatum:Look, if I could gain all the experience I’m looking for with a couple of sex toys on my own, I’d lock myself in my room for the weekend and go ham. But that won’t help me when I’m at SBC. This isn’t a time for silicone replicas. I need real life schooling here, dude.
Cooper:No. You’re not hooking up with someone on Tinder. Guys on there are only after one thing.
Tatum:Sounds perfect because that’s what I’m after too. You know how to stop me if you want a say in this, otherwise I don’t really need your permission. Did you change your mind? I made a pros/cons list last night if you’re still on the fence that might inform your decision.
Tate and her damn lists.
A hand clamps on my shoulder and I tense, caught out. Jackson shakes me. “Ready? I’m starving. Let’s stop at the Waffle Wagon truck on our way back. I’m craving a bacon-stuffed pancake cone.”
My shoulders relax. He didn’t see the texts. “Yeah, man.”
Shoving my phone away without answering his sister, I finish changing out of my wetsuit and get behind the wheel. As I drive away from the beach, my mind is a mess of thoughts.
The worst part about all of this is how much I want to give in. Since last night, the thought of being Tatum’s first plagues me.
I can’t stop picturing how her thighs would feel wrapped around me, the sounds she might make, whether she’d be sweet or if she’d want to be adventurous.
But I can’t. I’ll never know. Jackson would be so pissed if he found out she even asked me to fuck her.
My teeth sink into the inside of my cheek as my head swims with thoughts of the first time I ever checked Tatum out when I realized she wasn’t a kid anymore. She’s only a year and a half younger, but growing up with your friend’s siblings, you just file them under the friend category.
It was a pool party when she was fourteen. Jackson was dating her friend Simone’s sister. I’d seen her in a bikini plenty of times, but something about the blue suit with watermelon slices made me take notice that Tatum was growing up and I liked her shy smile when she caught my eye.
That was when Jackson made me promise I wouldn’t try anything with her. It’s a promise I’ve kept for four years, but my resolve is crumbling. It makes me feel like the world’s worst best friend.
“We’ll get you back out there at the bonfire, so quit your brooding.” Jackson taps my arm with the back of his hand. “That’s what you need. Get the master back in his element. A hot chick to make you forget all about Kayla. She’s got you so messed up you didn’t even stop and flirt with any girls at the beach.”
“Right.” I lock my jaw.
Forgetting. I wish. That’s out of the question when I live next to Tatum and see her all the damn time.
There’s only one girl I can think about right now, and she’s the only one I can’t have.
Fuck. My. Life.
SEVEN
