Summer Indiscretions

by Tamara Mataya

  What’s the harm in giving my insecurities a vacation as well?

  Chapter 8

  Blake

  I wait for a bolt of lightning to strike me down, but the truth is that Mel feels too damn good in my arms. Shawn’s going to kill me if he finds out. Still, there’s no room for regrets. Christ, I’m glad there were condoms in that drawer, because I probably would have been arrested for public indecency otherwise.

  She’s dozed off with a tiny smile I want to devour, but I let her sleep. She looks so peaceful compared to the passionate lover who took my breath away less than an hour ago. I teased her a little, and she smacked me with a pillow. I discovered she takes pillow fights way too seriously. We kissed for a while, and then she fell asleep in my arms. She nestled against me like she was carved out of my dreams, made to fit there.

  I shake my head. Poetry already? What am I, new? She’s sexy as hell and sort of awesome. Any man would be a little starry-eyed after the sex we just had. But I wasn’t expecting to feel so damn comfortable with her. I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise; we’ve known each other forever. Maybe relationships are better when you start off as friends.

  Not relationships. We’re not… I don’t know what we are, but it’s too soon to go stampeding toward definitions or expectations. We had sex. That’s all. Maybe we’ll have it again. Who knows how she’ll feel about things when she wakes up and the sex haze has worn off?

  Not to mention that she’s my best friend’s little sister and should have been off-limits.

  The guilt fades when she sighs in her sleep and nuzzles closer, the sheet tucking tighter around her like a second skin. She’s her own woman. No one’s being taken advantage of here, and treating her like a kid sister instead of a person I’m attracted to isn’t right.

  Is that a way to justify wanting to make her come again, six or seven times?

  Maybe she’s slept long enough.

  * * *

  “Blake? This is Ziggy. I’m not sure if Fern already called you or not, but we scheduled a massage for you for tomorrow morning. Thanks. Talk to you later.”

  I roll my eyes, annoyance stuttering through me. How hard is it to understand that I’m on vacation and won’t be back for two weeks?

  I finish my room service burger and delete the message. I listen to the next one while looking at a brochure. I want to find an ocean activity to do with Mel the next time I see her.

  “Ziggy again. Just wondering if you got my message about the appointment. Thanks.”

  For real? Delete.

  “Hey, disregard Ziggy’s message.” The last urgent, whispered message is from Laina, Inner Space’s new receptionist. “I know you’re on vacation, even if he and Fern don’t. I’ve rescheduled the appointment for when you’re back, and I’ll keep doing so. I just didn’t want you to worry about it.” She’s good but probably won’t last another month at Inner Space. Fern and Ziggy aren’t the easiest to work with. If I had to spend hours at a time with them in their little cult land, I’d go nuts.

  As it is, Inner Space will be the first place I quit as soon as I finish my practicum. I won’t miss any of them—especially not Phyllis. She took an unfortunately long time to get that I wasn’t interested. From the stories Sarah shared when we hung out at her boyfriend’s club, Phyllis has a vicious streak too. Glad I never had to experience that. I think her residual attraction for me keeps her civil.

  I flip through the channels, settling on a Supernatural rerun.

  When I eventually open my own clinic, I’m going to have a couple massage therapists, but I’ll focus on the therapeutic side rather than on hot-stone massages and spa treatments. I want to make a real difference in people’s daily lives, rather than make more money catering to rich clients who don’t need the help.

  I’d love to be more selective about clients and hours if I keep massaging—though that will be on a limited basis for older clients who have been with me for a while.

  I don’t crave money as much as the stability and the security.

  Security like I used to feel hanging out with Shawn and Mel. I don’t know where my parents are. I grew up with foster parents who didn’t care about me beyond the checks they got from the government, but I always felt accepted at Shawn’s house. Like I mattered.

  If I’m honest, I thought Mel was cute when she was eighteen, but if we’d gone out and broken up, I would have lost her and my second family. And she was still so young. Growing up so sheltered, she had an innocence that I loved watching from afar. I felt protective of her, not attracted.

  I hadn’t seen much of that in my life. I relied on her family so much for emotional support that losing them would have devastated me. The fact she and I have slept together now doesn’t change any of that…does it?

  My phone rings. Shawn. A flash of nausea hits as an abridged sexy montage of all the things I did last night with Mel flashes through my mind. “Hello?”

  “Hey, man. So? How was she?”

  “What?” How did he find out? And what a weird fucking question to ask about his sister! I mean—

  “Is Melanie OK? I’m assuming you found her. Has she alphabetized Shelby’s house yet?”

  Relief punches a hole in my lungs, deflating some of the awkwardness that had filled them. Of course that’s what he meant. Guilty conscience much, Blake? “She’s OK. I think this place is really good for her. She’s relaxed in a way I’ve never seen.” That’s not a lie…

  “Awesome. Maybe she’ll keep a little of that when she comes back.”

  “How’s Shelby?” I steer him off subject. “Didn’t you have a date to give her a tour of the city?”

  “Shelby is wild. Total hellcat with energy for days. We went out to a club, and not only did she charm our way in, but we hung out with the owner until four in the morning. He’s flying us to Las Vegas in his private jet tomorrow to watch a boxing match.”

  “No way.”

  “Yeah.” He sighs. “She doesn’t even act sexy to get something. It’s not a ploy or a game. She’s so friggin’ guileless and straightforward. There’s this thing about her I’ve never seen before. She’s fun and fresh and—”

  “You want to give her what she wants just to see her smile.” Melanie pops into my mind.

  “That’s exactly it,” Shawn exclaims. “It’s like she’s a magical creature who appears out of nowhere to tempt you away from the boring reality you’ve resigned yourself to.”

  I snort. “When have you ever resigned yourself to anything boring?”

  “I buckled down once. How did you know she’s like that?”

  “We’ve all met a woman like her. Someone you never saw coming who turns your world upside down.” Man, I need to knock it off.

  Shawn pauses. “I don’t know about that. We only met the other day.”

  “Ah.” He’s a goner. There’ll be no living with him when Shelby leaves.

  “Anyway, thanks again for going down there. Hope you’re not too bored.”

  “It’s Florida. I’ll find something to do to occupy my time.” If he knew I was doing his kid sister, he’d lose his shit. Flaky or not, he cares about his family, and he’s loyal as hell. And I care about them like they’re my own.

  We hang up, and I ponder that. Am I making a mistake?

  Maybe. But if Mel doesn’t want me around, that’s up to her. I’ve had a hell of a time with her so far. I’m not going to overthink it or try to take the decision out of Mel’s hands.

  My attempts to focus on the TV are a complete waste of time. When my favorite show can’t distract me from the thoughts running around my head, I decide to put an end to it.

  I dial Mel’s number.

  “Hello?” She manages to sound sexy, impatient, and curious all at once.

  I go for a cheap laugh. “What’s a guy gotta do to get a date around here?”

  �
�Troll nude beaches for mysterious women from his past?” she suggests.

  I bite my lip. “Nah, I did that yesterday.”

  “Me too.”

  That earns a laugh. “What’s her name?” I ask. “I’m a better time than she is. Give me a chance to win you back.”

  Her soft laughter patters through the phone. “Nerd. What did you have in mind?”

  “Something beachy. Might as well cash in on the local scenery, right? A good time is mandatory, and clothing is optional but recommended in the interest of not getting arrested.”

  “Ah, so not our nude beach?”

  I pace around the room, interest revving my blood now that we’re talking again. “No, another little spot I heard about.”

  “Never thought I’d have a nude beach with someone.”

  I scrub my hand down my face, realizing I need a shave. “Stick with me, and the glamour never ends.”

  “Is that right? What’s next, cow tipping?”

  “I think we’d have to settle for sea cows down here,” I note.

  “Oh, the huge manatee! What time?”

  “I’ll pick you up at four.” Three hours from now.

  “A day date?” There’s a smile in her words. Mel’s teasing me? I like this side of her.

  “Yeah, but if you play your cards right, I’ll let you cop a feel.”

  She sighs, and I can picture her rolling her eyes. “See you soon.”

  “Oh, and Mel?” I can’t wait to see the look on her face. “Bring a change of clothes.”

  Chapter 9

  Melanie

  Perhaps telling me to bring a change of clothes was presumptuous on his part. Sleeping together once doesn’t mean I’m going to do it again, but since that’s precisely what I want to do, I pack a bag. No sense cutting off my nose to spite my face.

  I ache in all kinds of places today. Maybe sex is a better workout with a partner like Blake, but I can’t remember ever being this sore from doing it before.

  My phone rings just as I’m pouring three kinds of bubbles into the tub. “Hey, Bails.”

  “Did you know there’s a conspiracy theory that the CIA invented dinosaurs to discourage people from time traveling?”

  I slip off my robe and ease into the hot water. “That can’t be.”

  “It is!” She cackles. “I’m writing an article about it. People believe weird things, Mel. Flat earth, Scientologists, nanobots in fruit. If I were six percent more impressionable, I’d be in trouble. Did you know that baby carrots are a lie?”

  “Uh, what?” I put her on speaker so I have both hands free to lather and exfoliate.

  “Yeah! It’s outrageous. Baby carrots are just regular carrots that have been ground down into tiny nubs.”

  “Huh. That feels like false advertising.”

  “You’re telling me! No one likes a tiny nub.”

  “Speaking of nubs…” I trail off, face burning.

  “Oh my God, you finally got some! Tell me you’ve participated in some shenanigans! Spill everything!”

  I grin at finally having something salacious to tell her. “Oh, you know. I’m sleeping in a stranger’s bed, and the other day I went topless at a nude beach.”

  She gasps. “You did not!”

  “I did.”

  “Did I dial the wrong number? Who am I talking to? That’s wild. I’d say I wish I’d been there to see that, but there’s such a thing as TMI when it comes to full frontal between besties.”

  I scoff. “It wasn’t full frontal; it was full upper. And that isn’t even the craziest part.”

  “What?” Bailey’s voice is a strangled squeak, and her breathing increases. She’s so expressive and empathetic that telling news to her is the best. She gives good reaction, and she always cares about what you’re saying. “Tell me.”

  “Blake Wilde showed up.”

  “He did not! What’s he doing there? Wait. Did he show up when you were naked on the beach?”

  “Yes, when I was on the beach. No, I wasn’t naked, Bails. I was—”

  “You had your tits out, and he saw them. Oh my God, I’d have died. So what happened then? Was he naked too? Did you finally get to see everything?”

  “He had shorts on. We hung out for a while on the beach, then came back to Shelby’s place, and he gave me a massage.”

  “Oh my gosh. Did you still have your top off for this part?”

  “It was after supper, and I’d dressed again when we were still at the beach. But then I took the top off for the massage.” I blush but continue. “And then, we, uh…we slept together.”

  Incoherent sounds of joy pierce my eardrum. Bailey’s the only one who knows all the awkward details about my vicious crush on Blake. “How was it? Was it everything you’d dreamed it would be? Oh my God, I can’t believe it finally happened. Did he make the first move, or did you? Is he a good kisser? What happened after? Is he still there?” She hisses the last part.

  I laugh and revel in her enthusiasm, glad to release these happy feelings that might make my chest explode at any minute. “Slow down. It was amazing, way better than anything I ever imagined. His hands, Bailey. You don’t know the things that man can do with his hands, and he’s even better with… Well, never mind that. I think I made the first move, but I was getting signals that he was interested.”

  “I’m sure that after seeing your tatas, he couldn’t help himself.”

  “You’re my favorite.”

  “Pretty sure Blake is, but I’ll get over it. Are you seeing him again?”

  “I’m in the tub now. He’s surprising me with where we’re going on a date this afternoon.”

  Bailey makes a sympathetic noise, knowing how I feel about surprises. “I’m sure it will be awesome. Call me later and tell me everything.”

  “I will.” I hang up and just soak for a few minutes before shaving and exfoliating so I’ll be nice and smooth when I see him again. If someone had said this would happen to me, I’d have laughed in their face. Everything about my time here has been so far from myself that I barely know how to feel about it.

  I hesitate with the razor at my crotch. Should I try shaving again? Blake was more than fine with what I’ve got going on, and I don’t want to act like someone I’m not just for a man’s approval. I like myself this way, and if he doesn’t, too bad. Pubic hair, don’t care.

  After rinsing, I emerge from the tub, smelling like mandarin and roses and feeling like a million bucks. Maybe there’s something to be said for Shelby’s menagerie of products. Plus, if I’m going to spend more time in the ocean while I’m here, it’s probably a good idea to use lotions and potions to protect my skin. In her pictures, Shelby’s skin looks nice and soft despite her obviously spending time in the water and in the sun, out there living large without hauling a huge umbrella with her. If she’s hanging on the beach all the time, she should resemble a catcher’s mitt, but she’s creamy and glowing.

  I’ll trust in her skin care regimen.

  * * *

  Blake and I head up the beach to a spot I hadn’t made it to yet, where people are fully clothed and a little more active. There are more kids here too, screaming up and down the surf, burying each other in wet sand. A couple badminton games are in progress, and I remember that Blake used to play.

  I nod toward the game. “When was the last time you played?”

  He follows my gaze and smiles. “It’s been years. These days I only have time to squeeze in a quick racquetball session at the gym—if I find someone to play with.”

  “I’ll play with you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m handy with a racket.”

  He snaps his fingers. “That’s right. You were in the tennis club, weren’t you?”

  “Badminton. Yeah, all freshman year I’d go to school an hour early to play with other peopl
e. My secret move was a backhand serve that just skimmed the net and landed in.” I’d loved the sport. “I tried tennis but didn’t have the control or accuracy. I liked how with badminton I could just smash the birdie as hard as possible. I tried that in tennis and kept knocking the ball out of the court.”

  “Why’d you stop?”

  “Lack of interest. Not on my part—I loved it. But there were only three of us, and if someone didn’t show up, it got boring.”

  “You played volleyball too.”

  I nod. “I did. Through middle school, and then a year of JV.” It suited my competitive nature, and giving it up had almost killed me.

  “Why’d you stop? You light up when you talk about it, and you kicked ass at it. You have a killer serve. Remember the time you smashed me in the face with the ball that Fourth of July?”

  He’d bled onto his white T-shirt. Mom had whipped it off to put in the laundry, and I’d gotten exhilarated at the sight of his abs. I bite the inside of my cheek. “I just wasn’t into it anymore.”

  “I don’t believe that. Did you try out and not make it? I’m not judging you if that’s the case. Our school always had the best players, and there’s no reason to feel bad for not making the cut. We went all-state, and—”

  “I made the cut. It was the uniforms, OK?” The words stampede out of my mouth, angrily running away from me. I’m powerless to stop them. “Do you know what it’s like to pour yourself into those tiny fucking shorts and know that everyone’s laughing at you, staring at your ass? Comparing it to the other teammates’ and how they look way better?” My face heats and I try to walk faster to get away, but stomping on sand is impossible. Even more frustration builds. “It makes it impossible to focus on the game.”

  “Mel.” Blake grabs my bicep, and I turn to shake him off until his eyes burn me into stillness.

  “What?”

  “You don’t still feel like that, do you?”

  The sand softly abrades between my toes when I dig one foot deeper. “I don’t know. I hate that I let something so stupid get in the way of doing something I loved.” And I do still feel big and clumsy compared to the couture giraffes picking their way down the street on Fashion Week. My corner of New York has higher standards of black-clad conformity than other places.