“He doesn’t fuck and tell either,” she adds.
I roll on my side so I can see if the sun has scrambled her brain. “He’s not exactly private about it. Just last week I saw him hook up with a girl.”
“Where?”
“At his house. He led her into his room, and thirty minutes later, she walked out bowlegged.”
“That was at a party,” she says as if a get-together is a valid reason to publicize his liaisons.
“So?”
“Have you ever heard him carrying on about the girls he’s sacked?”
I roll my eyes. “He wouldn’t brag to us. It would sort of defeat the purpose of being a player if he boasted to the herd he’s playing with. We’d all get skittish.”
“I know. That’s why I asked Hannah to get the dirt from Dylan. According to him, Tyler never dishes about his ladies. Don’t fuck him at a party, and no one will ever know what you’re up to. ”
“Oh, God, Liz.” The woman has everything figured out, and I haven’t even agreed to take on a fuck buddy. “You’re going a little too far.”
“I have my motives.”
I should have known. “Like?”
One side of her mouth quirks up in an ornery grin. “I want to know if he’s as good a fuck as they say.”
“Then why don’t you take him for a spin?”
Her face screws up with disgust. “We’re neighbors. That could get awkward.”
“But you’re willing to sacrifice me?” I poke a finger between two of her ribs and wiggle it.
She squeals and bats my hand away. “Stop it!”
“You stop trying to pawn me off on some random guy.”
“Oh, come on. Tyler’s not random, and he’d be convenient. He could sneak over whenever you needed a refill. Then you could tell me all about it.” She lowers her sunglasses, and the soberness of her gaze says that she’s serious. “He’s got it all, Cassie. He’s hot, he’s next door, he’s not relationship material, and he’d be discreet about your fuck buddy status.”
I shake my head. “Not gonna happen.”
“Don’t shit on my idea so fast. Think about it. What would you do if Mr. Hot-As-Hell Westbrook asked you on a date?”
“I’d so say no?” Could I sound any more wishy-washy?
“Stop playing coy. We both know you’d turn into a whore for that man.”
I lower my gaze to the beach towel and pick at a thread. “If you saw Mr. Westbrook, you’d know there’s no way on God’s green earth he’d be interested in me.”
She sits up, legs crossed. “I hate Wyatt—I’d love to yank his balls off and braid them—but he’s probably one of the best looking guys on campus. You’re like a homing beacon for hot men. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Westbrook asks you out at the end of summer session.”
My stomach twists when I think of the way he blushed when I nibbled on my lip. What if she’s right? How would I react if he asked me out? If the man’s interested in me as more than a student, I’d probably run gleefully into his arms.
“A fuck buddy, huh?” I say, frowning.
She smiles smugly. “The perfect defense against hot, smart dudes with English accents.”
She opens her mouth to speak again, but the sound of revving motors carries across the water, distracting her. Determined to enjoy my day at the lake without a cloud hanging over my head, I push aside all thoughts of Mr. Westbrook and fuck buddies.
Two motorboats with wakeboard bars pull up to the boat dock. Tyler and another guy I don’t know show up on jet skis and close in on the pier. Liz and I take this as our cue to get up and get on board before they leave us behind. We grab our stuff, load it into our beach bags, and head down the dock. Beefhead Josh ties off his boat and jumps onto the wooden planks. He strolls toward us, and as expected, his gaze goes straight to my chest. I’m positive from this day forward, he’ll never look me in the eyes again.
Liz elbows me in the ribs. “I used to hate girls with big tits. Then I met you, and I’m perfectly content with my B cup.” She tilts her head toward Josh. “How do you put up with that?”
I sigh deeply. “I’ve gotten used to it.” Though really, I haven’t.
Liz straightens. “Hey, Josh.”
His gaze stays locked on my cleavage, and Liz waves her hands, trying to get his attention.
He blinks a few times and seems to come out of his boob-induced trance. “You two are on my boat.”
I don’t care whose boat I’m on as long as there’s beer and snacks. He puts one hand on my back and the other on Liz’s to guide us toward the last boat where a couple of tattooed guys I don’t know are passing around Heinekens. The boys are huge, probably friends of Josh’s from the football team.
Liz hops on, but I stop by the edge of the pier, not ready to board yet. Tyler’s on the jet ski behind the boat, and I watch his eyes slide from my face down to my calves. His gaze travels back up, making my insides feel gooey like melted caramel. He doesn’t linger on any one place, and I’m a bit surprised. I could have an ass the size of a pontoon and most guys would never get far enough to notice, but Tyler seems to notice everything. I can’t help but wonder what he thinks of it all.
In a moment of brashness, I reciprocate the once-over, admiring the way his broad shoulders taper down to a trim waist and hips. The kind of hips that would slip perfectly between my thighs. I bet he could satisfy me in ways my vibrator would never be capable of. Heat races to my face, and I flick my eyes to his, hoping to God he can’t read my naughty thoughts. He smiles haughtily and winks.
Damn. I stiffen, clutching my beach bag, but I try to play it off by rolling my eyes. In the distance, car doors slam and feminine giggles ring through the air. Tyler looks over my shoulder. Thank heaven for the distraction.
I peer behind me at four girls striding toward us in bikini tops and micro-shorts. I recognize one of the girls from freshman year English. Back then, Miranda had been a sweet Kansas girl with honey-blond hair and a smile made of sunshine. Sometime between freshman and sophomore year, she traded silk blouses and full skirts for skin-tight jeans and painted-on T-shirts. Her hair has gone from natural blond to platinum, and her makeup has thickened by a quarter-inch.
I turn to Tyler, wondering if Miranda will be the one who draws his eye away from me. She seems his type, with soft curves most girls would kill for. Sure enough, his gaze goes straight to her, and when he rakes his eyes over her body, he stops at her chest.
A stab of emotion, something akin to worry, pierces my gut. I don’t like the idea of Tyler touching her. She’d been so innocent a short time ago, much like I used to be. His heated gaze lingers on her breasts, never bothering to travel farther south. I know it’s ridiculous, but I feel slighted. He has no qualms objectifying her. Why not me?
Oh, God. I’m losing it.
“Hi, Cassie,” Miranda says.
I tear my gaze from Tyler and study her, noting her genuine smile. I’m positive the sweet Kansas girl is still in there. She’s just covered with a façade to attract male attention.
I smile. “Hi, Miranda. I haven’t seen you in forever.”
Her eyes light up. “I know. We have to catch up—”
“Hey, Miranda,” Tyler calls out, cutting her off.
She turns to him, and if the way she licks her lips is any indicator, she doesn’t mind his rudeness.
“Ever ride a jet ski before?” he asks.
She flutters her long lashes, and her lips curl up. “A couple of times, but it’s been a while.”
“Want a refresher course?”
She shrugs. “Sure.”
Before she steps toward Tyler, her eyes flicker to the beefy boys in Josh’s boat. Most girls would have been by Tyler’s side before he finished the invitation, but she’s taking her sweet time, sizing up the other guys. Tyler’s eyes sharpen as though she’s just presented a challenge. He’s by far the hottest guy in the bunch, but I think for a second, she has him worried. The girl’s got game.
“Speed it up, Cassie,” Josh says, holding out his hand.
Liz is already making herself comfortable between two muscled men. She smiles coyly from one to the next, and I can tell she’s deciding which guy is worthy of her attention. I take Josh’s hand and hop onto the boat while sparing a peek at Tyler. His grin widens as Miranda sashays his way.
Josh sits at the helm and pats the seat next to him. With all the other seats taken, I plop down. Eyes bore into my back, making the nape of my neck prickle. I turn, expecting Liz to wink at me; she’s fluffing one of the muscled guys’ short blond hair. Behind them, Miranda straddles Tyler’s jet ski and presses her body against the length of his back. He possessively places a hand on her knee, but his eyes lock on mine. I shudder under his intense stare. His motor kicks up, and he’s gone, leaving me with the unsettling epiphany that I’d like to feel his skin pressed against mine too.
I settle my attention back on Liz. She smiles at me then mouths the words, “Fuck buddy.” I shrug, but I think she might be on to something.
“Let’s go,” I tell Josh, not wanting my mind to go there right now. I’ll have plenty of time to think it through later.
He smiles at my chest. “I’m on it.”
The wind whips my hair into my face as we take off toward the other side of the lake.
Three hours later, we leave happy hour at Rockin’ John’s Boat Dock and Bar and head back to the boats. I gorged on hot wings and a Lone Star beer while being entertained by Josh winning a bet to drink a side of hot sauce. He ran to the bathroom three times while we were eating and he’s sweating like an Olympic sprinter, but he’s smiling because his buddies owe him a case of beer. Tyler spent the break at another table flirting with Miranda and her friends. Not that I paid much attention. Okay, maybe I peeked at him a little.
It’s mid-afternoon, and the sun’s still high in the sky. Most of the boys bring up the rear as we stroll on the dock. They talk animatedly about grabs, spins, and inverts, all of which mean nothing to me. I’m pretty sure my one attempt at wakeboarding left me with a slight concussion. My head still hurts, and I swear I can feel my brain swelling. I’m about to hop into Josh’s boat, but a hand snakes around my waist and spins me in the opposite direction. My mouth opens, ready to tell off Josh for manhandling me, when Caribbean-blue eyes meet mine. Tyler.
“Ever ride a jet ski before?” he asks.
Even though I’m giving him bonus points since his gaze hasn’t lowered from mine, I narrow my eyes. “You’re seriously using the same line on me that you used on Miranda?”
He chuckles, but there’s an impish edge to the sound. “It worked once today. Want to make it two for two?”
I’m about to tell him to get more creative if he wants to give me a ride, but the words die when we get jostled. Since we’re standing at the best place to board the boat, Josh’s football buddies plow past us. Tyler and I are only inches apart. He presses his fingers into my hips and pulls me closer, protecting me from elbows and shoulders with his broad frame.
Josh is the last in line to board, and he steps up to us, taking my arm. “Come on, Cassie. You haven’t seen my Big Wurm yet.”
My eyes snap to his. “Your what?”
He tugs at my arm. “It’s an invert.”
Tyler steps into me; my breasts crush against his chest. “Last chance.”
He looks sexier than any man has a right to. I stare at him, knowing this could be dangerous because I’m wondering the same thing as Liz. How good is he?
I gently push Josh’s arm away. “I’m going to pass on seeing your big worm for right now.”
Josh winks. “Maybe later.” He jumps on the boat and unties the rope.
I listen to the purr of Josh’s boat engine and wonder if I’ve made the right choice, but I follow behind Tyler to the jet ski anyway.
“Be careful,” Liz yells when their boat glides by. She blows a kiss as if we’re in on a secret.
I stare at Tyler, who’s straddling the jet ski, and decide that maybe she and I are in on a secret. Damn he’s beautiful, and damn I wouldn’t mind him in my bed, especially if my heart isn’t involved. For a split second, I let myself wonder if he’d be game.
“Scared?” Tyler asks, his voice a low rumble over the lapping waves.
My gaze sweeps over the thick muscles in his arms and the filigree-cross tattoo on his forearm. I draw in a deep breath. “Terrified.”
Water stings my legs, and I squeal as Tyler skids the jet ski, doing a complete one-eighty. We’ve been riding around the lake for the last thirty minutes, and my voice is hoarse from screaming and laughing. I’ve never been on a jet ski before, and now I’m not sure I ever want off. My arms encircle his waist, just under his life-vest, and my forehead rests against the bare skin at the nape of his neck. I think I’m going to be sick from his donut maneuver, but it’s a fun kind of sick, the type I get on the upside-down rollercoaster at Six Flags.
Tyler slows and places his hand on my leg. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I croak.
He chuckles. “You don’t sound fine.”
I peer up, and he looks over his shoulder. I can see that his blue eyes have a thin amber circle around the pupil, and a dark blue a few shades deeper than the Caribbean color seen from afar rims his iris. His warm eyes coupled with his strong profile make delicate wings flutter in my stomach. “Maybe we should go slow for a minute.”
He nods and starts off again, staying close to the shore. I rest my cheek on his back and watch the trees go by as my stomach settles.
We pass a familiar camping ground, one I’ve visited many times over the last two years. It’s the same as a thousand other campgrounds strewn across America. Lots of shade trees. Concrete slabs to park cars or motor homes. Park benches. Outdoor grills. But for me, this one’s different.
In my memory, I’m exiting a car with Liz and three other Kappa Betas. It’s fall tradition to take the pledges to the lake and tell stories, bonding over s’mores and a campfire. The pledges beat us here by ten or fifteen minutes, and I hurry to the trunk of the car to gather coat hangers for the marshmallows. The other girls gather the food while Liz heads off to light the fire.
I hear Liz yell, “Oh my God!”
The throaty bass of male laughter follows, and high-pitched female giggling comes soon after. Tonight is strictly girl time, no guys allowed, so I can’t figure out why I’m hearing men’s voices. Liz screams a few choice words, and several girls giggle again. I think I even hear crying.
With hangers in my arms, I slam the trunk shut. The sun has almost set, and only a few dusty-orange rays sneak over the horizon. I make my way through the campsite and toward the lake. Five of our pledges are in panties and bras, giggling and shivering. Next to them, laughing hysterically, stand Tyler, Josh, and a guy I don’t recognize. The girls are drenched, hair slicked down their backs. The boys are wet too, wearing only boxers. I can make out the curved ridge of their junk beneath their wet underwear. While Josh and no-name are probably concerned with shrinkage, Tyler has no reason to be.
I feel my cheeks redden as I avert my gaze to a safer place, like the wet girls standing next to them. Only they’re no less exposed, with several wearing white panty-bra sets that have turned transparent from the water. I sigh and turn toward the sniffling. Three pledges huddle near a giant cottonwood, arms wrapped around each other, crying. At least they have clothes on.
“This is unacceptable!” Liz yells.
“Lighten up,” Tyler says, smirking. Water drips down the flat planes of his stomach. “We were just having fun.”
Liz knows she’ll never get anywhere with the boys, who still roll with laughter, so she turns her anger on the pledges. “Why would you do this?”
“Polar bear plunge,” one of them says, her teeth chattering. “They told us they’d been sent by y’all.”
“Yeah,” another pledge says. She wraps her arms around her shivering body. “To see if we’re worthy of pledging.”
“And yo
u believed them?” Liz growls.
“Well, no,” another pledge says. “But it sounded fun, and you weren’t here—”
“We’re ten minutes late!” Liz screams. Even in the waning light, she’s flushed redder than an overripe cherry. “You girls should know better than this!”
The sobbing from the three huddled girls gets worse, and I head over to investigate. As I approach, one of them runs crying into my arms.
“They’re being so unchristian-like!” she cries.
I hold her and stroke her hair as if I’m petting a cat. “Shhh, it’s okay. They were just playing a stupid prank.”
“Not the boys,” she sniffles. “Our sisters!”
I try hard not to roll my eyes, and I’m grateful it’s dark so no one can see my failure. If I remember correctly, these girls are from small towns where the biggest event of the year is probably the church Christmas dance. They have a lot to learn about the wickedness of college life. She cries harder. I want to tell her she’s being overdramatic, but she’s eighteen and only been out of her parents’ house for a few months. Between the stresses of classes, pledging, and being away from home for the first time, emotions run high.
I pat the girl’s back. “We don’t haze, sweetie. Remember that the next time a couple of idiots tell you otherwise.” I continue to stroke her hair while Liz tirades against Tyler, Josh, and their friend.
When the yelling dies down, Tyler walks past me, slipping a T-shirt over his head. He looks straight at the pledge in my arms. “You girls need to learn to have fun.”
I glare at him as the girl sobs louder. What a prick. One of these days, I’m going to make him pay for upsetting my girls.
The memory flitters away, and I’m left with the empty feeling that he never did suffer any consequences. A tickle of righteous anger rises in me, but I push it down. That was almost a year ago, and getting angry now is just stupid. Still, I can’t help wondering if Tyler recalls that night or if it’s lost in a long string of debauchery.
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