Hayes draws his shorts down seductively.
“Oh,” I say when I see he’s wearing colorful swim trunks underneath. Okay, so maybe eye contact isn’t really necessary for me to feel the zing.
“Disappointed?” He grins up at me.
“I’m sure you’re used to girls being disappointed when you unzip your shorts.” I laugh at my own joke but swallow when he puts his hands on his hips and raises an eyebrow.
He looks more amused than flustered. “Good one,” he mocks, looking fully confident, and there’s that zinging sensation again. What the hell is it about this guy?
I look away, refusing to give Hayes any of my attention. As he goes from clearing his throat to waving his arms and pretending to do a barefoot tap dance, it gets harder to ignore him.
Finally, he starts humming the opening theme song to an old Disney TV show that everyone in our age bracket watched ad nauseam when we were kids. Hayes gets louder and louder until he’s singing at the top of his lungs.
After a few minutes of this nonsense, Scott starts humming along.
I thrust an elbow into his ribs.
“Ouch.” Scott stops humming and lets his whistle fall and dangle from his hand.
I go back to ignoring Hayes, finally digging out my phone and scrolling through some pictures Kat sent me from the store this morning. Apparently, things are a little slow at Danny’s, and she’s kept herself busy by taking selfies while wearing a series of rainbow mustaches from our toy and novelty section.
I’m responding that the purple porn ’stache is my favorite when I hear footsteps thundering along the floating metal dock that juts out into the lake. I immediately drop my phone just in time to see Hayes do a perfect somersault off the deep end of the dock.
SPLASH! I’d be impressed by his form if diving off the dock wasn’t against the rules.
“No flips off the dock,” Scott calls at him the second Hayes surfaces.
In response, Hayes waves his arms, splashing wildly.
I look at Scott and roll my eyes, but we both stand as Hayes ducks underneath the floating ropes.
When he pops up just outside the designated swim area, Scott blasts his whistle. “Inside the ropes, buddy!” he calls.
Hayes dives down, kicking his feet and swimming deep enough for Scott and I to shift from annoyed to alert. I grab the orange life buoy from where it hangs on the back of the chair and glance at Scott just as Hayes finally resurfaces.
He’s holding up a handful of black pebbles from the bottom of the lake. He lets them roll through his fingers as he continues treading water just outside the ropes.
“Come on, Hayes,” I call. “Stop being a dick.”
Out in the water, he spreads his arms wide, leans back, and begins to float on his back with his eyes closed.
“I know you can hear me.” With a surge of rage, I hop down and throw the long strap of the orange life buoy across one shoulder as I rocket down the dock.
“Rory,” Scott calls after me, “what are you doing? Obviously the guy can swim.”
Hayes’s head snaps up from the water, and when he sees me sprinting toward him, a welcoming smile spreads across his face.
I make a perfect dive off the dock into the deep section, letting the buoy drop behind me into the water like it’s my floating orange puppy on a leash.
I swim the breaststroke over to Hayes with the buoy chasing me the whole way.
When I get close enough, Hayes reaches for me, and I grab his wrist, expertly swinging him around so his arm is tucked behind his back. It’s a rescue technique we learned in training, for when drowning victims panic and try to pull us underwater.
With a laugh, Hayes tries to wiggle free. “Whoa, easy there,” he says, but I reach around with my other arm and gather his neck neatly into the bend of my elbow.
With a pull on my buoy leash, I call my puppy to me and position the orange flotation device underneath my free arm.
With Hayes in a secure headlock, I use my hip to push his body toward the surface as I begin towing him to shore. The water is cold from the rain we had overnight, and his body is pure heat against mine. His warm hands wrap around my arms and I tighten my grip.
“Okay, Rory. I’m really sorry.” He tries to wiggle free. “I’m good now.”
I’ve done plenty of training exercises for this exact scenario, and so I know just how to hang on to him. Then again, I suspect he might not be trying all that hard to get free.
Eventually, he just goes completely limp. “This is sort of nice,” he says as I pull his heavy body into the shallow water.
Half carrying him on my back, I drag him from the lake.
Once we hit dry land, I thrust him off my shoulder, shoving him roughly to the pebbled beach. He falls back on his elbows, lying face up and aiming his bent grin in my direction. “Amazing.”
“Stay out of the water if you can’t listen to instructions.” I squeeze my dreadlocks out onto his chest and fling the excess water in his face with both hands.
He laughs, and when he reaches up to wipe the water from his face, my eyes fall to his shirtless chest.
I pull my gaze away before he can bust me.
Bending over with my hands on my knees, I work on catching my breath. I’m seriously winded, mostly due to the rescue exercise.
“Excuse me, lifeguard?” Hayes lies back down. “I think I could use a little mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.” He taps a finger to his lower lip.
Pausing a beat, I allow an evil grin to spread across my face and drop to my knees beside him. He looks up at me with a joking smile, but as he watches my face draw closer, his expression turns serious.
I ignore Scott clearing his throat from the lifeguard chair behind me. My breath is still heavy as I lean over and whisper, “You need a little air, Hayes?”
He nods while looking at my lips. His jaw juts forward, and I ignore the zing I feel as he wraps his hands around my back and—
“Psyche!” I whip away from him, slapping him with my thick, wet hair. I stand and take a few steps backward, leaving him lying like a turtle on its back.
In one smooth motion, I turn and pull myself up to the lifeguard bench where Scott is waiting to give me a tidy high five.
Hayes is still lying on the beach as Scott stands up on the lifeguard bench and calls, “That’s the way we handle rule breakers around here.”
“Speaking of rule breakers…” Hayes gives me a knowing wink and I look back and forth between him and Scott.
I widen my eyes and mouth the word no to Hayes. The last thing I need is to have two guys blackmailing me.
Besides, knowing Scott, if he found out I’m the graffiti artist right now, he’d probably run directly to tell my dad.
He’d say it was because he was worried about me, but really he’d be looking for an in with the DEC. Working with the Department of Environmental Conservation is Scott’s dream, and unfortunately, getting on my dad’s good side would have to mean throwing me under the bus.
Scott and I are friendly, but we’re not exactly friends.
“So, Rory.” Hayes mouths a roar and mimes clawing the air like a big cat. “What time are you done saving lives?”
Scott crosses his arms. “Take a hike, buddy. Rory’s not interested.”
Hayes raises his eyebrows at me, and I flash him two fingers against my arm. Scott can’t see me mouth, Two o’clock.
I nod my head toward the path that leads away from the lake, and Hayes does a fantastic job of playing it cool. Scott has no idea.
Hayes picks up his shirt and uses it to wipe his face before tucking it behind his head and lying back down. Closing his eyes, Hayes acts as if the sun is shining on his bare skin, despite the overcast day and his obvious goose bumps.
I’m working to forget the warmth of that body against mine as I “rescued” him.
&nbs
p; His expression is peaceful until his gaze jumps suddenly and he catches me watching him.
*Zing.* Damn!
With a satisfied grin, he makes his biceps flex as he lays his head back down.
I stop violating him with my mind as I hear a group of people speaking over each other in Chinese approaching. We get a ton of international visitors here at the park, which is one of the many things I love about this place.
As the multigenerational group quickly moves onto the beach, Hayes stands up and makes his way to where his backpack is parked by the edge of the trees.
After spending an inordinate amount of time combing back his hair, he pulls out his new sketchbook and pencils and starts to draw. I’m practically clawing the wooden lifeguard bench wanting to see his work.
But a glance at Scott tells me he’s already suspicious.
I need to play this ultrasmooth.
Problem is, I’m getting sick of playing. What the hell am I so afraid of, anyway? Hayes is just another guy. And he’s not even from around here.
A hookup with him would have zero consequences.
I need to make sure I stay in control, but that doesn’t mean I can’t risk making a move.
I come to a clear decision.
As soon as I get Hayes alone, I’m following that zing to see where it leads.
• • •
The hours fly by as the lake fills up with groups of swimmers and empties twice. I’m focused on the people in the water and purposely not checking on what Hayes is doing, letting my anticipation build.
But the water is basically empty right now, with only a middle-aged couple talking as they stand beside each other in the shallow end. I glance back and catch Hayes tearing a page from his sketchbook and handing it to a little girl. I can’t see what he’s drawn for her, only the delight on her face as she runs to show her mother.
He glances over and smiles when he catches me watching him. I don’t smile back, but I don’t look away either. His smile fades, and the look of intensity that replaces it makes my stomach dip.
He can feel it, I’m sure. The craving. I bite my lip and turn back around as the waiting grows into exquisite agony.
When my shift is finally over, I greet the older male lifeguards replacing Scott and me and tell Scott to enjoy his days off.
He asks if I’d like to “hang out or something” tomorrow, and I can’t stop my eyes from skipping to Hayes.
Scott says, “Oh, I mean, unless you have plans,” and I wonder what made him decide to ask me out now. It’s probably because I’ve been half-smiling all day, instead of sporting my usual resting bitch face.
I’ve been picturing myself getting blissfully physical with Hayes, and I can already tell things will be good between us.
“You know I don’t mix work and pleasure, Scott.”
This is, of course, a lie. Pleasure goes just fine with everything, including work. I am all about pleasure, but there’s no need to make Scott feel rejected just because I’m in the process of rejecting him.
I make my way up the path to the row of rustic bathrooms, pull open one of the heavy doors, and use the warped mirror to check my flushed face as I rifle in my bag for my freshen-up kit.
I brush my teeth and take a quick sink shower, drawing out the suspense. When I emerge, Hayes is waiting for me with his backpack on his shoulder and a sly grin on his face.
“How was work, dear?” he says.
In response, I turn and wordlessly lead the way down the long, twisted path toward my cabin.
There’s no need to engage in playful banter now. The time for verbal foreplay is over, and the long hike is infused with an eagerness that I know he feels too.
Anticipation continues to build, and I widen my stride as we get closer and closer. By the time we reach my cabin’s door, I’m practically jogging, but Hayes is still right at my heels.
As soon as we’re inside, with the door closed, I turn and draw both of my hands through either side of his dark, slicked-back hair. His waves have dried by now, but they’re surprisingly soft with the gel washed out.
His look of wonder only lasts a moment. Narrowing his gaze, he tips his head forward, pushes a dreadlock away from my ear, and whispers, “Told you I’d win you over.”
I smile. “Pure games, Hayes. I’m the one in control here.”
“Oh, we’ll just see about that.”
I hesitate a moment. I want this too much. I should wait for him to make the first move.
I pull back and look into his eyes, showing how much willpower I have. Just because his eyes go so deep they’re giving me vertigo doesn’t mean I can’t control myself.
I am in control.
He gives me a knowing grin without breaking his gaze. We are in a standoff.
I have absolute and complete control.
He licks his lips and…
I lose control.
Rising onto my toes so we’re the same height, I tilt my chin upward and use my fingertips to guide his face toward mine. I pause for one delicious beat before brushing my lips ever so gently against his.
He responds immediately, pressing against me, drawing me up and into a kiss with the perfect amount of pressure. We are both really good kissers.
I stop thinking about control and allow myself to drop into a puddle of sensations. I’m aware of every muscle shift, each breath.
As our kiss grows deeper, the zing is expanding inside me, growing wider and moving further.
I want it to keep going.
I can’t tell who’s guiding who as we expertly make our way across the room to the art table standing against the far wall. We don’t break our kiss, and my fingers reach out for the flat surface covered in layers of dried paint.
We bump against it, and there’s a moment of awkward struggle as I attempt to bend him back over the table. He stays upright, trying to keep the top position.
I’ve never brought a boy back to my cabin before, and now this boy is trying to take charge.
Finally, I relent, and he turns us and lowers me slowly down onto the table. It’s vaguely thrilling, and I try to hide how heavy my breath is getting.
Enjoying our encounter is one thing, but it’s dangerous to get this excited. This isn’t an escape right now. I’m fully present and with Hayes, and my blood is flowing too fast, and my head won’t let me go anyplace else right now. I can’t disappear.
My lions aren’t going to sleep. They are here, and I am being torn open with all that I’m feeling. I’m too vulnerable and exposed.
With a panicked grunt, I place both palms on Hayes’s chest as we continue kissing. After a pause, I give a light shove and he leaps off me.
As he backs away, I see he’s flushed and breathing just as hard as I am.
“Holy hell.” His voice is rough. “You have some serious self-control.”
“Told you I was in charge,” I say breathlessly, even as I resist the urge to grab him around the neck and drag him back on top of me.
“Well, I’m glad you keep a level head.” He takes a half step back, puts his hands on both knees, and leans over, like he’s catching his breath after a sprint. “My sponsor says I can’t get into a relationship right now.”
Now this is good news. The stakes just dropped down a notch.
I point my foot and run it seductively up his leg. “Who said anything about a relationship?”
He laughs and shifts out of my toes’ range. “Listen. I’m serious. We can’t take things to the next level until I’ve worked through some issues. Otherwise, my recovery could be stunted by our relationship.”
“You keep using this word: relationship,” I tease. “I’m unfamiliar with this word.”
“I’m trying to take my sobriety seriously.” He drags a hand through his hair, trying to slick down the edges I’ve messed up. “I
told my sponsor, Roger, about hanging out with you, and he already said it was inadvisable. At least until after I finish my ninth step.”
I sit up straight. “Did you tell him about my lions?”
Hayes shakes his head. “Of course not. He’d never let me see you if he knew you were a criminal.”
“I’m not a…total criminal. And, anyway, who is this Roger guy, and why does he get to have a say in what we do together?”
“He’s my sponsor.” Hayes moves to sit next to me on the table, our thighs touching, so now that’s where all my focus is aimed. “Kind of like a sobriety guru.” He laughs at my eye roll. “He’s a guy who has been through the steps himself and who wants to help me get my life in order.”
“Including your sex life.” I fling my leg seductively over his.
“Especially stuff like sex since that’s one of the things that would send me down a path to trouble in the past.” Hayes subtly strokes my leg, driving me wild as he goes on. “Conflicting expectations. Different opinions on what physical intimacy signifies. Basically just a lot of trouble I’m better off without right now.”
I smile and run a finger lightly down his neck. “Well, I won’t be any trouble at all, trust me.”
“Trust me. You already are trouble.” With a gentle touch, he lifts my chin so I’m looking directly at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes that shade of gray before,” he says. “It’s as if your irises are in black and white and the rest of you is in color.”
I look down at my hands. “I have my mother’s eyes.”
“Well, they’re amazing, but they’re really sad too. That’s the other reason we can’t get involved. I feel like you have some things you need to work through yourself.” He forces me to look at him again. “Rory, why do you paint such angry lions? I really want to understand whatever you’re going through.”
“I’m great. You’re the one here who’s not even allowed to hook up without a permission note from some alcoholic voodoo man.”
“Maybe I’m not looking to just hook up.”
“Yeah, well maybe you should’ve stopped stalking me sooner then. If you’re not interested in us hooking up, why are you even here?”
Love and Vandalism Page 7
