“Don’t you dare fucking joke about sex. I’ve been jonesing to screw you since the day we met—I swear my nuts are about to fall off.”

He sets me down on the sandy sea floor and rubs his erection into my ass.

“You couldn’t stand me when you met me.” I let him grind it into my crack, strapping arms wrapped around my middle from behind. “You called me Cock Blocker.”

“And now all I want to do is get this cock inside you.”

“God you’re a pervert.”

His hands dip below the water, fingers running into my bikini bottoms. Forefinger pressing the sensitive nub between my legs.

“Should we skip dinner tonight?” I tip my head back, wanting nothing more than for him to make me come—but then a Frisbee whizzes by and we both look in its direction, startled.

He groans miserably at my suggestion. “No, we can’t skip dinner. My parents will know why we’re not there and I promised my dad I’d behave.”

“You think they’d think we were…?” Screwing?

When he laughs, I want to lick his Adam’s apple. “That’s definitely what my parents would think we were doing, so if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not have my father try to kick my ass.”

I wade a few feet before donning my goggles again, fitting the mouthpiece of the rented snorkel into my mouth, floating buoyantly on my stomach. Stretching my arms wide, I float, legs doing little scissor kicks in the ocean while Rowdy watches over me a few feet away.

Sand. Shells.

A tiny guppy scuttling by.

It’s unremarkable and remarkable all at the same time, and I bask in the water, cooling my body as it drifts listlessly. Face down, I kick, on my way to anywhere. Deeper still, until finally, I see signs of more marine life: a gray horseshoe crab drags its shell through the infinite space. The smallest of starfish lies still, half buried in the white sand.

I scan the ocean floor, paddling, paddling, until I see Sterling nearby, watching me under the water, rear almost hitting the bottom as he buoys. He gives me a little wave, bubbles rising from his snorkel to the surface of the tide.

I swim along in his direction, smiling, the tight goggles distorting my mouth. Reach him and rise, feet hitting the sand, pushing myself high enough so my shoulders feel the warm air. As he emerges in front of me, I pop the snorkel out of my mouth piece and remove the goggles, pressing against him. Drape my legs over his squatting form at the same time I wrap my arms around his neck.

Plant a wet, salty kiss on his lips. It’s slow and soft, and would be considered sweet if my tongue hadn’t just slipped into his mouth. God I love his lips, undemanding and pliant and eager for me.

His hands grip my waist, holding me firmly on his lap, blanketed by the tide, while my greedy, selfish fingers remove his goggles so I can rake them through his wet hair.

“You said you didn’t want to make out in public.”

I nibble his full bottom lip. It’s salty and warm, and tastes so fantastically like him. “I changed my mind.”

“You’re powerless to resist me—I like it.”

“You’re powerless to resist me.”

“Careful now,” he intones quietly. “Or you’ll drown us both.”

Rowdy

“Having a good time?”

Scarlett and I slough up the sandy shore toward my parents. They’re lying in lounge chairs under a cluster of shady palm trees, watching us approach, Mom with a book in her hands and sunglasses on her face.

She takes them in her index finger and thumb, drawing them down a notch to inspect us over the rim.

“It sure looks like it.”

“The water is fantastic. Thank you again for inviting me, today has been a dream,” Scarlett enthuses, dripping wet in her bright yellow bikini. I will my eyes to stay off her ass, but they sneak a peek at her curvy backside to spite me.

Dart to the pair of tits that sway when she stops and scoops up a beach towel.

“I can’t convince your mother to dip her toes in,” Dad adds in, lying flat on his back, a worn Iowa baseball hat covering his face.

“Sterling did enough flapping around in the water for all of us, Don.” She rakes me up and down with her lips pursed. “You’re like a walking hormone—give the girl a break.”

Beside me, I hear Scarlett laugh, running the towel over her damp limbs. Down her arm and over her stomach, patting it dry.

I feel my skin getting hot—and not from the sunburn I’ve already acquired being in the hot, tropical sun. The hollow of my neck, rising to my cheeks and coloring my ears—goddamn guarantee they’re hot pink.

Scarlett turns to look at me. “You’re not blushing, are you?” she teases, poking me in the ribcage, making my face burn hotter.

She sweeps her towel across my chest, soaking up the beads of water on my pecs then handing it to me.

“Scarlett, sweetie, listen to me—take some advice from the boy’s mother: make him work for it. Everything always comes so easy to this kid.” She sets the book on her stomach, pointing at Scarlett with the nail of her finger. “Make him sweat a little.”

“Mom!”

“Oh, calm down, I’m just making an observation.” She reaches for and grabs the white chair next to her, pulling it close.

We sidle up to my parents and I straddle the lounger, resting against the back of it, leaving plenty of room for Scarlett. She joins me, facing my mother.

A waiter walks past, and we order two drinks—what it is, I don’t care, I just want something in my hands. My freaking mother is making me nervous; I have no idea what’s going to come out of her mouth next.

“So, Scarlett,” she begins. “Sterling never really told us the entire story of how you two met.”

“Oh. Well…” Scarlett looks at me helplessly, shrugging. “I guess it was at a party?”

“Ah. At the house?” Mom makes a face.

“Yes, and our first meeting didn’t go very well.”“There was an incident,” I add drolly, taking two blended piña coladas when the waiter comes back. Give him fifteen bucks, tell him to keep the change. Pop the cherry off the top and suck it into my mouth, chewing.

“What incident?” Dad has his neck craned, suddenly interested in entering the conversation. “You boys better not be doing anything suspect in that place.”

“Dad, it’s nothing like that.”

“Mind if I tell the story?” Scarlett touches my thigh. “I was at the baseball house with a few of my friends, and you know how it is in those places—wall-to-wall people.” She sips from her plastic cocktail cup. “Anyway, my friends were…chatting up two players, and…I don’t know, they weren’t very friendly to me.”

“And then Sterling stepped in and set them straight?” My dad peels back the hat, squinting at me in the sun.

“Not exactly. The players wanted me out, mostly because I was being—” She turns to me for help filling in the blanks. “Would you say I was being a buzzkill?”

“No, babe, you weren’t being a buzzkill.” I shake my head, irritated, turn toward my parents. “She was giving Ben Wilson shit because he’s a straight-up liar, and Ben got pissed and wanted her kicked out of the house.”

“And then you stepped in and set them straight?” my mom asks, leaning forward, completely immersed in the story.

“Well no. I kicked her ass out.”

“Sterling!” My mother is appalled—totally appalled. “Stop it, that’s not even funny.”

“He’s not joking Mrs. Wade, he did indeed kick my ass out.” Scarlett laughs. “He spent the night policing me, and we kept arguing, and…then I went back the next weekend.”

“And he let you in, obviously.”

“Nope.

“Sterling!” Mom practically shouts, sitting up in her chair, book falling to the sand. “I raised you better than that! How utterly unromantic!”

“Mom, relax. I couldn’t shake her no matter how hard I tried. She was like a bad rash.”

Scarlett rolls her eyes. “It actually was kind of romantic. He would wait for me on the front porch every Friday, and one night I went to dinner with a bunch of my friends and I didn’t show up—I think he was jealous he wasn’t invited along.”