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I don’t have any problem with how I look or want to change anything about myself. Well, besides that one pesky thing. I’ve never really thought about my looks. School and my aspirations have always come first. So much so that I feel like I’m allowing life to pass me by without embracing it.
Being a virgin isn’t the biggest part of my problem. In order to lose it, I’ll need someone to help me check that box off. After giving it a lot of thought, I’ve come up with a plan that’s…well, all right, it’s this side of crazy. But it’s the kind of crazy that will work, and I’m all about results.
All I want is to feel like I’m ready for the full college experience. In order to succeed in this goal, I need someone to teach me everything there is to know about being great in bed. I need a practice run. Someone to let me make mistakes until I figure things out. I just want to know what’s ahead of me and be able to enjoy it.
Maybe I’ve been lying to myself. I am in a bit of a rush. But it’s my choice—all I want is to know what I’m doing without having to wade into online dating or suffer through fumbling with guys who might want more than I’m willing to give. I don’t want a boyfriend while I’m prepping for the fall semester and working at the Tiki Taco Shack on the beach. This isn’t about them, it’s about me.
I’ve been too damn busy meeting every other one of my achievements that I haven’t had time to date a lot. Some—I’m not a total prude. But it’s been…a while. The last time I went on a date, there might have been chaperones involved. Okay, fine, I barely dated in high school. That’s why I’m one of the few people my age in South Bay with hardly any experience past first base.
That’s changing this summer, though. Not the boyfriend part, the experience part.
I have the perfect tutor in mind: my brother’s best friend.
Cooper Vale. Hometown heartthrob, sultry bad boy, and total player. He’s always got a girl with him in his photos on social media. When our group of friends hangs out at the beach, all he has to do is dish out that crooked smile and he has the attention of every girl within sight.
He’s everything I need to get through this ordeal and meet my goal before freshman orientation as painlessly as possible. It helps that when I see him he stirs a hot, achy feeling between my legs with his confident grins, sharp jawline, and warm brown eyes that make me want to melt inside.
Attraction won’t be a problem. It never has been.
But here’s the catch: Cooper has always been off-limits. Duh, he’s Jackson’s best friend. It’s not just because they’re almost two years older, but Jacks swore me off his friends a long time ago, same as I did to him. I never had a problem with it when I’ve been so focused on my studies. It’s not like Cooper’s ever looked at me the way he looks at the girls that hang off his arm.
He’s also the only guy I know who’s available after recently breaking up with the girl he’s been dating for the last year.
If I’m not allowed to fall for the guy I pick to help me, I won’t risk developing feelings. This is purely scientific and in a controlled environment, like the psych studies I’ll be conducting for my future doctorate degree.
As if it needs to be stated again—I mean, just look at the guy, with that beach bum tan, windswept hair, and the faded blue baseball cap he wears backwards—but for the record, Cooper is the perfect man for the job.
Better the devil you know, especially to proposition to become your tutor between the sheets.
Nothing could possibly go wrong, right? Cooper is totally the safe option. No way will either of us catch feels.
It’s a genius game plan. Smirking, I grab my notebook from the bed and visualize Cooper agreeing once I present the idea to him with a proposal I’ve been working on for a week. Kidding. Kind of.
Commence Operation: Lose My Virginity.
TWO
COOPER
A lazy half-smile pulls at my mouth with another satisfyingswishwhen the ball slips through the net. I’m on fire today, sinking every shot. It feels damn good.
“Dude.” Jackson’s groan draws a chuckle from me.
I shrug. “What can I say, bro?” I pop one shoulder in a shrug. “Master at work.”
“You’re killing me today,” he complains.
“Nah, I’m just on my game.” I put minimal effort into jogging across the driveway between my house and my best friend’s to retrieve the ball, tossing it to him one-handed. “We still catching waves later?”
It’s hot as hell out, baking my skin, and I’m looking forward to the cool crush of the saltwater on my body.
“Always, man.” Jackson shoots me a grin at the prospect of our favorite pastime—surfing.
South Bay has the best surfing beaches within an hour radius. It’s one of the reasons people flock here every season. Plus the tourists like to take Instagram pictures in front of the sun-washed pastel bungalows from a bygone era and shit. Live like a local for the Gram. No joke, there’s a renovated Airbnb around the corner from here that goes for like a grand a night.
Outsiders see the quintessential California beach town, but all anyone who grew up here sees is the beach, surfing, and the college most of us end up at, South Bay College.
Life is good here. At least it has been for me until Kayla started a fight and dumped my ass at the end of the semester.Again.
