Summer's Kiss_Reverse Harem Contemporary Romance

by Angel Lawson

  “Yet.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Is he a player? Should I avoid him? I’m just here for the summer and I don’t know, just broke up with my…” I bite back the word ‘boyfriend.’

  “Well, you’re right, Justin in particular is big flirt but he’s also a sweetheart. And smart. All of those boys are smart. Not to sound lame, but they’re probably just as attracted to you being a college girl than anything else. They have some crazy deal about getting out of here, but they’re not celibate or anything. God no.”

  “I’m not sure I’m together enough for anyone right now. I’m kind of a walking disaster lately.”

  “Honestly, if you want something fun, a little rebound from the other guy, one of those boys may be a good choice.”

  I laugh.

  “What?”

  “How would I even pick!”

  She smiles devilishly. “Who says you have to choose just one? It’s a summer fling, girl, no rules. No commitments. Play the field a little bit.”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I’m not sure I’m ready for the rebound yet or anything else.”

  “Well, whatever you do, just be honest. They’re big on that.”

  “Yeah, of course,” I say, thinking of all the lies and deceit I’ve stirred up in the last six months, which leads me to think of Mason again and the ticket stashed in my camper and suddenly I’m so tired.

  Everything I think about leads to the downward spiral of my disastrous decisions.

  But then I think of Justin and his eyes the color of the sky. And Whit’s lazy grin and muscular chest. Pete’s sweet smile and Nick’s quiet intensity. Thinking about them makes everything else vanish like a wave rolling across the sand.

  Sibley takes a wobbly step away from us and back toward the water. Anita pretends to growl and chases her across the sand. Swooping the girl in her arms, she turns back to me and smiles. “I say go for it, Summer. I have a feeling any of those boys would be happy to share in your little summer adventure. What do you have to lose?”

  * * *

  “Jump!”

  I ignore the other catcalls and demands from below.

  I’m wearing my new bikini, more revealing than any other I’ve worn. I can’t help but feel self-conscious of my pale stomach and the way the halter lifts my boobs, making them round and full. The boy shorts are cute, although they’re not as covering as you’d think. My cheeks hang out the bottom and I keep tugging them down.

  One thing’s for certain, the boys definitely noticed when I took off my sundress. Whit offered to rub sunscreen on my back and I accepted, terrified of boiling like a lobster. His hands were warm and thorough, gently slipping under the tie behind my neck and the strap across my back.

  It was intimate but appropriate and I hoped he didn’t notice the heat across my cheeks when I thanked him.

  “Jump, Summer!” Anita shouts again. She’s floating in the shade of the boat. Everyone else is either in the water, gliding along with the tide in life jackets, or swimming to the sand bar separating the waterway and the ocean.

  “I think I’ll just stay here,” I say, pretending sweat isn’t pouring down my back and that the water doesn’t looking inviting and wonderful. And dangerous. I mean, this is basically the ocean and in the ocean there are sharks and other bite-y, pinch-y, stinging things.

  “Lame,” Anita says and rolls her eyes at me before swimming off with Bobby. Her mother has Sibley for the day, the last thing she wants to do is babysit me on the boat.

  I drop into a cushioned seat inside the boat and recline. This is not my world, I think, closing my eyes and blocking out the happy laughter from the water. Everyone here is great and has accepted me into the group, but times like this prove our differences. Not just the private school education or lack of a pure southern accent, but this inability to relax and have fun with the rest of them.

  I’m wallowing in this difference between us when the boat heaves and I feel water dripping all over my stomach and chest. Shading my eyes, I look up and find Justin standing over me.

  “I’d push you away,” I tell him, “but that water feels really nice.”

  “Get in,” he says, offering me his hand.

  I shake my head. “Not gonna happen.”

  “Come on,” he grabs both my hands and pulls me off the seat. “I won’t let anything get you.”

  “See,” I frown. “You basically just admitted there are things in the water that can get me.”

  “There might be one thing,” he says, lifting an eyebrow while keeping his fingers linked with mine. He’s very close to me, his skin all kinds of muscular and wet. “But I promise to behave. Come in with me, I’ll keep you safe.”

  He says it sincerely, in a tone of voice that settles in my chest and establishes trust. I want to trust him. I want to make normal choices. Better ones. Choices that let me have fun with this cute, flirty, half-naked man in front of me.

  “It’s the waterway. It’s like swimming in a lake. The tide is there but the water is deep enough you won’t touch the ground or anything until we get to the sandbar.”

  After a pause I say, “I’m wearing a life jacket.”

  “Good idea.”

  “I mean, I can swim, but you know…”

  He hands me a purple and red jacket and helps me inside, cinching the strap around my waist and snapping it together. His fingers linger near my stomach and he spends a moment adjusting the collar.

  “All secure,” he says, before walking to the edge of the boat and jumping in, causing the boat to bounce around from the waves. I hold on to the railings; it’s a large boat, able to carry twelve of us out here.

  “Throw me that jacket,” he says and I toss him a life vest. He struggles for a minute but eventually gets strapped in while the waves bob him up and down.

  I shuffle to the edge, unsure if this is what I want to do. I wrinkle my nose and say, “Are you sure there are no sharks in here?”

  “Summer,” he says, “the sooner you get in the water, the sooner you get to the sandbar. Come on.”

  I realize he didn’t say no, which makes me uncomfortable, but he’s patiently waiting for me in the water, risking his own life via shark attack, so I just jump, crashing feet first and submerging to the top of my head.

  “It’s cold!” I shout when I reemerge, pushing the water and hair out of my face.

  “You okay?” he asks and I feel his hand graze across my lower back and I fight a shiver not from the temperature.

  “Yeah, but let’s get over to the others.” I have no idea why I think there’s safety in numbers with sea creature attacks, but I do. I expect Justin to swim off but he doesn’t, instead he flips to his back and starts talking.

  “How’s your mom’s book going?” he asks.

  “Okay, I guess.” I swim next to him. “She’s obsessed with finding victims that got away or something, which probably just means we’ll be knocking on every door from here to Myrtle Beach next week.” He laughs and I splash him. He kicks his feet and glides easily out of my way.

  “I heard she talked Nick into joining your adventure.”

  “She did and he was a trooper.” For the first time, I wonder if Nick told Justin or the other guy about me crying on the pier or the conversation we had on the porch. I search the water for his shaved head and muscular body. He’s lazily swimming toward the others.

  I realize Justin is farther away and I swim after him until my foot catches on something and I yelp. “What the—”

  Justin flips over to his stomach and stands up. Embarrassed, I laugh when my foot touches the sandy bottom, nothing more. Tentatively, I stand, relieved to be close to shore.

  “You made it,” he says as we walk toward the others. He’s already peeling off his life vest, exposing his brown shoulders and back.

  “Summer!” Anita yells from her spot on the sandbar. “You came!”

  The others wave and Ivy passes me a drink and for a quick moment, I feel it. The inclusion of being part o
f this beach group. I catch Justin’s eye and mouth the words, “Thank you.”

  In return I’m greeted by a series of smiles, bright and quick in the hot summer sun and I realize I can do this. I can move past the drama and Mason and everything left behind, if I’m willing to take a chance.

  * * *

  “The best thing about being home for the summer is Anita’s mom’s cooking,” Pete says. The tide is low and a chunk of the sandbar is above water. Pete’s leaning on his elbows with his feet submerged in the ocean. Anita and Bobby swam back to the boat for some privacy a while ago. I’ve been listening to the boys playing a game about what they love most about Ocean Beach for the last forty-five minutes.

  “I’m worried about it at the Citadel,” Whit confesses. “The beach isn’t that far away but we won’t have much time. And then there’s just all the rules and structure.”

  “It’ll be a hard adjustment but Nick’ll be there with you,” Ivy says.

  There’s a tone of serious worry in his voice and his eyes cast over the water. His long hair is atop his head in a bun. A thought strikes me.

  “You’re going to have to cut your hair,” I exclaim.

  Whit says nothing but stands, walking straight into the water and swims away.

  “Shit. Was that the wrong thing to say?”

  “He’s struggling with the Citadel thing,” Pete says. “He really doesn’t want to go. But his dad was hard-core Marines. He doesn’t have a choice.”

  I glance at Nick, knowing he said something similar. Family ties run deep around here. It’s a whole different level of expectation than what I’m used to.

  “I get it. At school I’m too far from the ocean,” Justin says. “I hate that. No surfing for me.”

  Ivy cocks her head and pokes him in the belly. “I totally thought you’d come home with the freshman-fifteen. In reality it was only the freshman eight.”

  His eyes widen in shock and he leaps at her. She howls and he shouts for her to take it back. “I go to the gym,” he declares.

  My eyes skitter to the lean ladder of muscles climbing up his stomach. Yeah, he definitely goes to the gym.

  “Sure you do,” she taunts. “After plates of mac & cheese and a case of beer.”

  He gets her in a headlock and Maggie, laughing, hops up to save her girlfriend. They fall into the water. And Nick lumbers over, following them in. Whit is already halfway across the waterway, headed for shore.

  “Should someone go after him?” I ask Pete, who’s the only one left on the sandbar with me. As much fun as they’re having wrestling and fighting, there’s no way I’m getting in.

  “He’ll be okay,” but he whistles and jerks his head at the group. Justin looks over his shoulder and their eyes lock, sharing a nod of understanding. In a quick minute, the whole group is swimming after him.

  Now it’s just me and Pete. He watches his friends swim away and walks over to me.

  “You can go with them,” I say.

  “Nah, I’m good here.” He drops to the sand and leans back on his hands. We’re stretched out together.

  “You mean you’re stuck babysitting.”

  His eyes drop to my chest then back up. “I’m not getting a childish vibe off you, Summer.”

  His tone is soft—warm. I wasn’t lying when I told Anita I had no idea which guy I’d choose out of these boys. They’re all cute. Funny. Nice. Their loyalty astounds me.

  It’s not long before Justin and the others catch up with Whit and we watch them off in the distance. The boat rocks not far away—Anita and Bobby no longer visible.

  “Thanks for letting me tag along today,” I say.

  “It’s been nice having you here. A little new blood is a good thing.” His shoulder brushes mine.

  My mind is running a million miles at once and I finally blurt, “Nick told me about your pact.”

  His shock confirms Nick hadn’t told him this. When he answers his words are slow and clear. “Did he?”

  “I think it’s smart,” I say quickly. “Focusing on your goals. Not getting tied down.”

  He tilts his head and a tendril of wet black hair dips in his eyes. “Jaded about love? Already?”

  I shrug. “I’ve made some dumb choices. Like super-stupid decisions, and I’m not looking forward to repeating them.”

  “So no more stupid decisions,” he says. “What’s the opposite of that?”

  With every ounce of courage I have, I lean into him. His eyes flick from my mouth back to my own and there’s a beat. One…two…three—and he kisses me. Soft and salty. Tender and sweet. And new. So very new. Shiny enough that it washes away all the heartache I’ve been carrying for the last few weeks—at least for a minute.

  He pulls away and touches my chin. “You think that wasn’t stupid?”

  I hold his eye. “I haven’t even gotten started.”

  Chapter 11

  Somehow, when it’s time to leave, Justin ends up in my car. We’re both sun-kissed from playing in the ocean and everything has that salty-sunscreen smell.

  I can’t tell if it’s weird that I just kissed his friend, but Pete squeezed my hand when we got out of the boat and wandered off with Nick and Whit.

  The Pact.

  No strings.

  No attachments.

  I wait as Justin rinses off everything back at the marina before placing it back in the car. Then he piles a cooler and towels in the back seat. I’ve noticed he’s meticulous about some things—boats, cars, especially his work ethic. Anita is probably right, that he has bigger dreams than living on this tiny part of the coast, but at the same time he seems perfectly at ease with his life.

  “Here,” he says, handing me my flip-flops. They’re wet but clean and I slip them on my feet. I’d offered him a ride when the others quickly left the marina and he was still securing the boat.

  “You have so much more patience than I do,” I tell him. We’re in the car now and I’ve cranked the air-conditioning to cool my burned skin. He wastes no time moving the seat back to accommodate his long legs and he fiddles with the knobs on the radio and settles on a classic rock station. I laugh at his choice. “What, no country?”

  “Don’t knock it,” he says, lifting an eyebrow. “And whatever, you live in Nashville, that’s about as country music as you can get.”

  I pull out of the parking lot and head down the main road. “Which way?” I ask. I’ve never been to Justin’s house—or really, Richard’s, I guess. I can’t deny I’m interested to see where someone lives around here if it’s not at the campground.

  “To the right.”

  I turn like he says and listen to him sing softly next to me. He knows all the words to Light My Fire and it prompts me to tell him, “In the ninth grade my friends and I all got really into Jim Morrison.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “We thought he was so tragic and poetic. Plus, those leather pants…”

  He studies me. “Yeah, I can’t see it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve got that clean-cut sorority girl thing going on. I can’t see you dropping acid and eating ‘shrooms.”

  “Aren’t you awfully presumptuous? You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know enough,” he says. “Believe it or not, I flirted with a Grateful Dead stage. Tie dyes and long hair.” His eyes light up from a passing car. “We were so lame.” We’re about halfway back to the campground when he gestures to a street coming up and I turn right again, back toward the water. “I guess everyone goes through some kind of rebellious stage or ‘self-exploration’. Mine just included lots of guitar jams and weed.”

  “Do you play guitar?”

  “No, but Pete does. He’s pretty good.”

  I remember the callouses on his fingertips.

  We’re traveling along a dirt road now, passing a couple of individual trailers until we get to a driveway that branches off and heads straight toward the water. Massive trees shade the yard from the setting sun and in th
e dusky light I can make out a large house.

  “This is your house?” I ask, pulling the car to a stop.

  “Richard’s.” The house has a sweeping staircase, reminiscent of a southern plantation, and enormous columns. I’m still staring when my door opens and I see Justin holding it open for me.

  “This is beautiful.” The water behind it is from the waterway and I can see a dock. Lights flicker on as the sun sets lower around the property. “No wonder you crash here.”

  “You want a tour?” he asks and I nod, following him past the car.

  “Can we go out there?” I point to the dock. I feel dirty and gross, still in my bathing suit and cover-up—unacceptable for visiting someone’s home.

  “Sure,” he says and I feel his fingers slip between mine. I consider removing them, but on second thought I don’t, because there’s no reason. No reason to fight this moment or the guy in it.

  Justin leads me through the side yard and down a stone-lined path. We pass a patio and outdoor fireplace and I stop, staring at the house from the side facing the water. “Hey, this is the house we saw from the boat the other day? That’s the tree house.” I point to the huge tree with branches over the water, “You talked about hanging a swing under.”

  “Yeah, Richard won’t let me put a swing up there. I’m not sure why.”

  “Maybe because you aren’t eight?”

  “Some may disagree,” he says, smiling devilishly. “Don’t worry; I plan on wearing him down. Eventually.”

  We’re at the edge of the dock now and Justin leans against the rail, facing the water. His shirt is dirty with grease from the boat and his navy blue board shorts skim the edge of his knees. He’s cute and funny and I want to know more about him.

  “So why do you live here?”

  He looks out at the water and I feel his thumb graze over my hand. He says, “He took me in when I was fifteen. After both of my parents split.”

  “Split? Like broke up?”

  “Left. My dad left when I was a kid. My mom stuck around for a while longer but in the end, she bolted, too. Bobby wasn’t mature enough to handle me on his own so Richard let me stay here.”