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“Well, at least you’ll have abs of steel,” I said with a laugh. Terrible 20s was a drill where the boys were split into two groups, one doing push ups, one doing sit-ups. They’d sprint 100 yards and swap positions, counting down each time, from 20 to 19 to 18, till they got down to 1. It was grueling, and all of the boys were dripping in sweat, their complaints barely audible by the end because they were struggling to breathe and talk.
“Yeah, you can laugh,” Sawyer scoffed.
“Well, it’s hard work for me too,” I said. “We ran out of ice!”
“This feels good,” Cullen said as he lifted his arms out of the water and extended them around the top of the tub, like he was totally relaxed. The tips of his fingers brushed my shoulder. “Sorry,” he apologized, shifting his hand away.
I didn’t say anything. I hadn’t minded that he touched me. A leg knocked against mine and presuming it was Sawyer, who was sitting across from me, I kicked back. We’d always end up splashing and play fighting with each other.
There was another kick to my other leg and I tangled with it, giggling as I pushed against it. Only to notice that Sawyer wasn’t even looking at me—he was on his phone. A sharp neck turn revealed Cullen was grinning from ear to ear. Horrified, I immediately pulled my legs back into me, restraining them with my own arms. Sawyer was oblivious, snapping a selfie. I had an inclination to jump out and storm off, but that would mean exposing my bikini-clad body to Cullen which was the last thing I wanted to do. Water Girl duties kept me fit and in shape, and in spring I would join the soccer team, but I was overcome with a shyness and an acute awareness that I lacked curves. I hugged my knees tighter.
“Amanda’s asking why I didn’t invite her over,” Sawyer said.
“Because it’s a rehab session,” Cullen said rather bluntly.
“We could have asked her and Siri,” Sawyer said, lifting his eyebrows in a suggestive way.
At that, I held my breath. How desperately I wanted to escape the hot tub, but my towel was over on the deck. I did not want to hear Cullen talk about Siri. Beautiful Siri, with her long blond hair and eyelash extensions and C cup bra. That was a guess, but I did have a minor obsession with other girls’ bra sizes, especially as I was still an A cup. Ironic that it was one area of my life where I strived for anythingotherthan an A. I was decidedly jealous that my best friend Emma wore a B cup.
“No distractions,” Cullen said, rather curtly, “Bro, we’re this close.” He demonstrated a gap of about an inch with his thumb and first finger.
I expelled a heavy sigh of relief, which made Sawyer look over and say, “You all right?”
I was more than all right, I was ecstatic that Cullen was not allowing himself to be distracted by Siri. “It’s getting quite hot in here,” I said, fanning myself with my hand.
“Yeah,” Cullen said with a smile, “it is hot. You want me to get your towel?” He was looking around like he knew my dilemma.
“It’s over—” I started to say, but Cullen had jumped up and out of the tub, water rushing off him in torrents, his body in all its muscled magnificence. I closed my gaping mouth.
It was a few long strides across to the rail where I had left my pink towel, and he picked it up and walked back to the tub. I scrambled out then, hoping to time my exit with the towel’s arrival. Shuddering at the rush of cold air on my skin, I reached for it, only for Cullen to be holding it fully extended, moving in behind me to wrap it around me like it was a cloak. I clutched at the ends, pulling it tighter, giving him no time to eye up my body, but it’s not like he was looking anyway. He was squeezing the wet strands of hair that had loosened from my messy, haphazard ponytail.
I was dizzy, delirious from his touch.
“Get inside where it’s warm,” he said gently, guiding me over to the French doors that led into the house.
I scurried in, not looking at him, not looking behind, sprinting straight to my room with a racing heart and stomach full of butterflies.
