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“Stat,” Jackson says.
Smirking, Tatum pushes away from the bar and heads for the back to put our orders in. I snag a free bowl of tortilla chips and put it between us before the tourists grab it. A pair of girls on the swing seats beside us are too busy taking selfies for Instagram to notice.
“Could you take a photo for us?”
I crunch down on a chip and turn toward them. A girl with trendy silver hair braided in pigtails holds out her phone to me. Her friend bats her long fake lashes at me. Who puts on that much makeup to go to the beach? The kind of girls I used to end up hooking up with, ones just like these.
“Yeah, sure.”
I take the phone and they pose on the swings with their margaritas and sunglasses. I snap a few and they keep working the camera.
Jackson leans around me, his attention fixated on their tits practically spilling out of their tiny bikini tops. “Are you visiting from out of town?”
“Uh huh. It’s our girls’ weekend before we fly home to Dallas.” The one with gray hair presses her boobs in our direction. “What about you guys?”
There’s no mistaking the inviting lilt in her tone. I don’t want to be a dick, but I also don’t have much interest in talking to them. Usually I’d be all over flirting with these chicks. They’re hot and clearly interested. They also remind me of exactly why I felt like shit with a revolving door of hookups until Tatum proposed her crazy idea.
I glance at Jackson and bite back a dismissive response. He’s definitely down to score. I should help by being a good wingman at least. Tatum enters my periphery carrying two baskets.
“South Bay boys, born and raised,” I say.
Jackson smirks and flexes by pretending to lean closer. “The surfing is the best in the area. You’ve come to the right place.”
The other girl with the white bikini top and blond hair eyes him up and down. “I’ll say.”
I stiffen as Tatum reaches the bar to drop off our lunch, feeling as if I’m doing something wrong by talking to the flirtatious girls. Her gaze is like an arrow piercing my profile.
My hand twitches with the need to reach across and grab her wrist to stroke the soft skin until she smiles at me. I can’t, though. Not with Jackson right there. I meet her eyes and swallow at the hardness in them.
“Your tacos.” Before either of us can thank her, she busies herself with other customers.
Jackson digs in without picking up on the moment of tension between me and his sister, carrying on a conversation with the flirty tourists.
Poking my tacos, I hold back a sigh. My gaze flicks up to search for Tatum, finding her hovering around the end of the bar while ignoring the side we’re seated on. She won’t look at me.
I didn’t do anything wrong and I don’t want these girls. The one I do want is the only one who isn’t really mine. So why am I left feeling like crap?
TWENTY-ONE
TATUM
It’s after dark when my shift finally ends. I park my brother’s car in front of the house and lean back against the headrest with a sigh. I can hear the muted rhythmic bounce of a basketball against concrete and Cooper’s deep laughter. They’re shooting hoops in the shared driveway between our houses.
I hold out as long as I can before I angle my head to peek at them.
I bite my lip. Cooper looks unfairly hot, his gym shorts riding low enough to see the cuts of his hip muscles, his unruly hair curling around his ears, escaping beneath his backwards cap. He’s shirtless and grinning, sending my heart into a wobbling dive off a cliff into uncharted waters.
Nodding smugly to my brother, he dribbles the ball lazily, bouncing it down between his legs and catching it one-handed from behind. Once he has Jackson lulled into a false sense of confidence, he makes his move, running his lay up and taking a perfect shot that sinks through the net with a satisfyingswish.
I hated the burst of jealousy that rocketed through me when I saw Cooper working his magic on the beautiful girls at the Shack. I’m not that girl, the one who goes crazy over nothing. I don’t even know what they were talking about; I was too chickenshit to hang around and watch him flirt with them.
But that’s who he is—the playboy with an easy smirk who sends girls into stupidsville over his charm. I thought I was getting to know him as someone else beneath all that. I need to remember what we agreed to before I get hurt.
It’ll be my own fault for falling for a guy I can never have.
Groaning under my breath, I get out of the car. Logical Tatum would ask Cooper straight out, but I don’t know her right now. She went into hiding right about the time I cooked up this insane plan to lose my virginity to my brother’s best friend.
Why is this my life? Why do I do this to myself?
