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The problem with her recent sexual awakening — apart from the fact that it had been rather awkward and unsatisfying — was that it had been exactly that: an awakening.
Days after losing her virginity, Andy had lain awake at night, not knowing what to do with the crazy influx of hormones rushing through her. Oh sure, she’d masturbated plenty, but that hadn’t been enough. It was like her vagina was no longer happy with just her vibrator. It wanted the D.
She’d called Carson exactly one week after the deflowering to see if he was down to try again. First times were always awkward and unsatisfying, right? They’d probably just needed more practice. That’s what she’d thought anyway.
Well, apparently Carson had not. He’d told her something to the effect of, “Please don’t take this personally, Andy, but I believe I may be asexual.”
Andy hadn’t taken it personally. Not too much anyway. Autistic people ran the gamut in terms of their interest in sex, just like anyone else. Some were totally grossed out by it and wanted nothing to do with it. Others were probably freakier than Mr. Freaky-deaky over there flirting his way into a major up-sale. And probably the pants of Miss “I’ve ridden a lot of things but never a surfboard.”
Ugh. She shouldn’t hate on Texas. One, Andy had no designs on Lucas MacCallum. And two, she would kill to have just an ounce of the confidence of the Caseys and Shays of the world.
Because that was the rub. While her friend Carson had learned from his first sexual experience that he was on one side of the spectrum — the sex with other people is gross side — Andy had a very strong suspicion, based on numerous lurid fantasies involving a certain fictional character sketched on the back of her bedroom door, that she leaned towards the opposite end of the spectrum. And now that she’d had a taste of the forbidden fruit, she wanted more.
But going about getting what she wanted was hard. So freaking hard.
Neurotypical women had it way easier. They could sashay right up to a guy, make some comment about a peach emoji and have him eating out of the palm of their hand.
Of course, right now it appeared Luke was the one who had Tex chomping at the bit. Her teeth were literally sinking into her bottom lip as she watched him settle three foam surfboards on the sales counter.
Three ka-chings later, Luke had taken in five hundred and twenty-two dollars.
“You sure you can’t squeeze in a few surf lessons in between shifts?” Tex asked him as Andy bagged all the rashguards and accessories he’d talked the women into.
“Yeah, you sound like you’d make a great teacher,” one of the blondes purred.
“Sorry, ladies. I’m afraid the shop keeps me too busy.” He plucked a brochure from a small carousel on the counter and handed it to Tex. “But give these guys a call. Ask for my boy Hunter Ford. He’ll hook you up with a fun time out on the water.”
Tex winked at him as she scribbled her phone number on the charge slip. “Well, if you’d care to hook us up with a fun night on the town, we’re staying at a rental nearby for the summer.”
The women left on a chorus of giggles. As soon as the door closed, Luke rounded on Andy. But instead of bragging over his massive sale like she’d expected him to do, he folded his arms over his chest and pierced her with another narrow-eyed stare. “You really didn’t know?”
Oh god, were they back to this? It was irritating that he still didn’t believe her about not knowing who her boss’s boss was.
But also, if she were being honest, it was a little gratifying to witness how quickly Luke seemed to forget the three gorgeous women who’d just sailed from the store. Maybe a little hot even.
No. Not hot.
That was the sexual awakening talking.
Andy crossed her arms and glared right back at him. “For the last time, I did not know Kyle owned this place when Mary hired me. How would I even know that?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Luke drawled. “Maybe because he’s made the cover of every business journal in San Diego.”
“Do I look like I read some boring old business magazines? That sounds like literally the most boring thing in the world to do. I would literally rather watch paint dry. And I’ve literally done that. Plenty of times.” Andy could feel herself getting worked up, her voice rising with every ‘literally’ that tumbled from her lips.
Ten deep breaths, Andy.
She took one, sucking in air through her nose as she closed her eyes. When she opened them on the exhale, Luke was still looking at her. But with noticeably less suspicion. “What made you decide to apply here then?”
Raising a fist, Andy found a nice stretch of aqua wall paint to stare at as she began ticking off the reasons. “One, because I quit my last job because my boss was a jackass. Two, because my roommate who works over at Rockabilly’s told me you guys were hiring. And three, because the photo on your website spoke to me.”
“It spoke to you?”
“Well, not literally.” Andy threw up her hands. “Ugh. You know what I mean. It moved me, okay. It made me want to try something new and different. Which is generallyveryhard for me to do. But I did it anyway, and then I got the job, and I like Mary, and I like this store, but nowyou’rebeing a jackass, and that’s so not cool!”
Andy stopped hollering to suck in another soothing breath.
Luke, meanwhile, stood there in silence.
