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He grunts in agreement. “Bummer.”
“We’ve got the whole summer ahead of us still before classes start back up.”
I lean down on my board and swing around to paddle back to shore. Jackson follows my lead. My arms cut through the water with ease gained from surfing any chance we got as soon as we learned how to balance on our boards. It’s second nature to be out on the water, watching the swells for the right moment to capture the thrill of riding a good wave. Out here, I can let go of everything and just be.
It doesn’t take long for Tatum’s words to steal my focus again.
I want it to be you.
Christ, it’s like she was in my head, aware of every thought I’ve ever had about her. The ones I tried and failed to kill before they took root.
What guy wouldn’t want a girl like Tatum saying those words to them? Shit, it was sexy as hell, even if the rest of her request threw me. Being told you’re wanted is a heady thing you grow addicted to.
But as much as my ego and my dick like the idea of Tatum being into me, it stings to know she’s not like I thought. She’s just like everyone else who doesn’t see past my body. I believed she was different, but it’s all girls see when they look at me—muscles, a cocky smile that makes them drop their panties, and a good time. That’s it. Nothing deeper. More important than body talk.
It doesn’t matter. She’s someone I can’t ever have.
“Bro,” Jackson says from behind me. “Are you listening?”
“What?” I twist to peer over my shoulder at his concerned expression.
“I asked you a question.”
I want it to be you.
Shaking my head, I fight off the guilt twisting my stomach. I made Jackson a promise.
“Sorry, man. Weird night, I didn’t sleep a lot.”
It feels like crap to lie to him, but there’s no way I’m telling him what his sister did last night.
“There’s a bonfire out at Mariner’s Cove this weekend. We hitting it up?”
“Sounds good.”
Maybe a party is what I need to wipe this strange week from my mind. Distract myself with a good time.
Once we’re back on the beach, we draw the attention of chicks out early to get their tan on as the pair of us swipe droplets of saltwater from our faces. Jackson peels his wetsuit down to his waist and I spy a few phones going up. I snort, shaking my head wryly. They all think they’re discreet, but I know a thirst photo on the fly when I see one.
I scrub a hand through my damp hair, raking it back from my eyes as we reach my Jeep. While Jackson gets our boards on the rack up top, I check my phone. The text from Kayla I delete immediately, but the string of messages from Tatum makes my stomach clench.
Tatum:If you’re sure you can’t help me, then I’ll have to compromise on doing it with someone I trust. At least help me find the right candidate who isn’t going to sell my kidneys on the black market after. There has to be someone willing out there I can make it work with. I didn’t want to do it this way, but at least I can secure a hook up. What about this guy?
Tatum:Or this one says he benches 220, claims he knows the secret to making a girl squirt, and requests not to meet the parents in his profile. Promising.
Tatum:Only 5 miles away. Looks like he’d smash my virginity to pieces. [smirk emoji] [eggplant emoji] [fire emoji]
Each of the texts is broken up by a screenshot of Tinder profiles. First of all, why the fuck does Tate have a Tinder account? Second of all, absolutely fucking not.
A rush of jealousy crashes over me while I scroll through the fuckboys she picked out, followed swiftly by a possessiveness I have no right to feel over her. She’s not mine. And yet the thought of these guys touching her, undressing her, makes my blood boil. My knuckles turn white from how hard I grip my phone and my teeth grind together.
Another text comes in. I almost drop my phone reading it, my brows creeping higher on my forehead with each word.
Tatum:Does it really hurt the first time? I was just reading an article on a sex positive forum about how incorporating lots of foreplay can help relax a girl before penetrative sex. Who was the first girl you had sex with and what did she think, did it hurt her? I’ve seen your dick print in your basketball shorts and sweats. You’re not what I’d call small.
“Jesus,” I choke out.
“What?” Jackson pokes his head around the side of the Jeep.
