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"You just seem like you're having a good time," he shrugged before putting an arm behind his head to prop himself up. "So what are we eating?"
"Um, cheese dip and salsa."
"Fuck yeah," he fist-pumped the air with his free hand.
"And a piña colada," I offered, even though he didn't ask.
"Perfect."
There was a glint on the side of his head, and I realized it was an earring, gauged and big. It completed his entire surfer vibe, and my heart picked up its pace as I realized how attracted I was to him. When it came to guys, I had always been more attracted to athletes, not weekend surfers, who probably worked somewhere in the Wynwood District during the week, producing content for social media in the art district. That was a huge assumption, but the guy seemed to be pretty carefree, and for as good-looking as he was, he could have made a living posting videos online of himself exploring Miami's Art District.
Okay, that was too specific, but I followed as many influencers as possible, and my favorites were those focused on the arts. Not one single bone in my body was artistic, and it fascinated me to see what everyone was capable of. My ideas of who that guy was only made me want to know more, but I would be devastated if he told me he was a prestigious doctor and not someone I had just created in my head.
For a few minutes, we snuck glances at one another and smiled. When his drink was finally delivered, I couldn't help but giggle. The huge coconut was frilly and way too dainty for his large hands. He seemed like a red wine or bourbon drinker, but again, that was an assumption.
He was proud, though. Not caring that he looked like an Adonis and was drinking what was arguably the "girliest" drink in Miami. He went about his lunch, and I eventually finished mine. When the waiter took his plate away, he stood facing the water and stretched his shoulders. Another attendant came from nowhere with a surfboard and handed it to him.
"Ha," I accidentally mumbled too loud. But I was spot on with the surfer assumption.
"What's that?" he turned, his board being held in one arm at his waist.
"Oh um, I could tell you were a surfer. That's all."
"Am I making it too obvious?"
"You have the vibe."
We were both smiling, so despite how anxious I was about things being awkward, he went with the flow, making me feel like it was okay to say whatever was on my mind.
"It's a good vibe."
He nodded, then tilted his head a little. "What other vibes am I giving off?"
"You're not a vegan."
"Good guess." There was a lot of sarcasm in his response because of the cheese we both knew he ate, but he still found the conversation appealing. "What else?"
Maybe I had gotten a little too comfortable. It was easier to think about who he could be than to tell him what I thought. If I guessed something wrong, would he be offended? I didn't intend to find out, but my brain and mouth didn't always see eye to eye. So instead of saying something with more couth, my mouth chose, "You might be gay."
ChapterFive
Tripp
Three days after my blackout, I still wasn't sure what had happened, but I hadn't heard from Hunter again. No scandals had hit the media, and I was finally feeling like myself again. The piña colada I ordered at the beach club was the first taste of alcohol I'd had since, and the only reason I even had it was because of the woman across from me. If that drink brought her that much joy, I needed to harness that energy for myself.
Not to mention, the way her eyes glinted with humor when I raised my frilly drink made my cock twitch. So much so that after sipping half of it down, I decided to have my board brought to me so I could cool myself off in the Atlantic Ocean.
It wasn't a shock that she thought I looked like a surfer since I was born and raised in California. Surfing was my first passion before I got a college scholarship in soccer. It forced me to focus more on soccer, but I would always belong on the waves as well.
What shocked me was when she said I might be gay. It made me laugh, considering I was headed to the water to tame my dick that simply enjoyed watching her smile.
"I might be gay?" I laughed, setting my board down on my lounger, suddenly more interested in hearing her talk than riding the waves. "What brought you to that conclusion?"
Her eyes widened, probably thinking I was offended, as she tried explaining. "Your drink choice."
Getting closer to her, I licked my lips and then squatted down in front of her. "That drink seemed to make you happy, and I wanted whatever you were having."
Even though the heat had already pinked her cheeks, she turned even rosier. Dammit, I had no intention of entertaining a woman when I set out to get some lunch and catch some waves after practice. With two more games before we knew our playoff fate, it was a dumb time to get wrapped up with someone—even if it was just for a bit of fun. But that particular woman had cast a spell on me, making it impossible to walk away.
