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My parents might be chill as owners of the health and wellness retreat center they founded, but they want me to apply myself. Do the work, that’s what they always say.
Maybe I can sign up with a study group or find a tutor. Tate pops into my thoughts and my head jerks with a snort. I mean, yeah, she’s a little academic genius with how many honors she had around her neck at her graduation. I’ve seen her notes spread out on their kitchen island, color coded and everything. As much as I’d like the excuse to hang out with her one-on-one, she’d probably have no interest in helping me resuscitate my grades.
I should at least talk to her about it. I won’t get anywhere with this if I don’t try to find help.
My phone vibrates, pulling me out of my buzzed late night musings. I figure it’s Jackson, drunk off his ass and telling me exactly what I’m missing by passing on the party.
The lazy smirk drops off my face as soon as I see the name. Kayla. Shit, I hate the way part of me considers going down this path again.
Kayla:miss u bbyyyy
My teeth clench. There’s a photo of her, glassy-eyed, boobs squeezed together in her low-cut top for my benefit, styled hair messy from dancing at the club she likes in Del Mar. She’s wasted.
Bitterness floods through me. This is how it always is with her, how we picked things back up last time. She starts a fight that ends it, then sexts me in the middle of the night. I fell for it twice before because I liked her and I sure as fuck liked getting naked with her, but not this time.
I’m done with girls like Kayla. Done with girls who manipulate me because they want to ride my dick. Yeah, I’m known as a guy who can get a chick into bed easy, but that doesn’t mean sex is all I want. I’m a person, not a damn warm-blooded dildo they can grab when they’re in the mood.
I leave Kayla on read and take another drag on the joint. Gradually, the tension ebbs from my shoulders, and I finally relax enough to feel drowsy.
My attention slides to Tatum’s window before I close mine. Once again, her offer to hang out crosses my mind. Maybe I should take her up on it. It’ll give me an opportunity to talk to her about study tips without Jackson breathing down our necks.
I allow my mind to wander into forbidden fantasy territory, imagining our heads bent close together, the excited way she talks when she’s explaining a topic she’s passionate about, then catching her chin with my fingers and kissing her because I can’t resist any longer. It’s one of countless little ideas that won’t ever happen.
The side of my mouth lifts as I strip to my briefs and climb into bed. Folding my hands behind my head, a sigh leaves me feeling more at ease.
If there’s any girl in South Bay who’s the opposite of Kayla and her manipulative, dick-obsessed shit, it’s Tatum.
FIVE
TATUM
Getting Cooper to give me his dick is harder than I first thought. It seemed like it would be easy from how many girls I’ve seen him bring home, but of course I’m the one who can’t figure out what to do short of holding up a neon sign.
My mouth purses to the side. There’s a local artist that does them custom. Maybe if it really comes down to it, I can see if I could afford a small one. But would Cooper be the type to get it if I went more discreet with emojis, like a gravestone and a cat, or do I really have to spell it out for him I’d like a ticket to ride?
Squinting, I track Cooper’s movements through the Tiki Taco Shack. Our shift is almost over and a pair of girls in his section keep ordering drink refills so he’ll linger while they flirt. A coil of heat tightens low in my gut at the inviting smile he offers them, his head tipped forward so his messy brown hair falls over his forehead.
They make it look so simple.
He’s been hard to pin down in the last few days, but tonight he’s giving me a ride home since we’re both closing. I’m asking him straight out when we’re alone in his Jeep. The direct approach has to be the key to making him understand what I want his help with.
I blow out a breath and prop my hands on my hips. Damn, maybe it’s a blessing I was too busy doing everything else I wanted so I never knew what a challenge it could be to secure a virginity-obliterating hook up.
“Order up,” Marco announces from the kitchen. “Last call.”
A flurry of stragglers on our wooden swing seats at the bar hold up hands to put in their last orders while I deliver the basket of tacos to one of my tables. A cool breeze blows in off the beach through the open air tiki-themed restaurant, sending a shiver down my spine.
“You good?” Cooper asks when he joins me at the spot the employees chill when things are slow.
I rub my arms. “Yeah. Just the breeze.”
He hums absently, half his focus on refilling napkin dispensers. I take the opportunity to study his profile, admiring the sharp angle of his jaw, the build of his broad shoulders and arms. Our colorful uniform t-shirts with leis stretches across his chest snuggly, offering a front row show to the outlines of the sculpted abs and pecs beneath.
I’m startled out of my poorly concealed thirsting when he shuffles by and puts his zip up hoodie over my shoulders, smoothing his big hands down my arms. We have outdoor space heaters I could stand by, but he still gave me his hoodie.
The soft material envelops me in a musky scent mixed with the ocean and a hint of patchouli. My teeth sink into my lip to contain the embarrassing noise threatening to escape me.
Jesus, am I a swooning maiden? I’ve grown up with this guy. Why am I battling butterflies?
