One Year Ago
I slam back another drink and scold myself for being reckless enough to flirt with Gracie not even ten feet from her brother—my best friend. The sun has set now, and the pool deck is otherwise empty except for the odd cleaning person walking around or myself, calf-deep in the chlorine water.
A bottle of tequila sits in my closed palm, providing me with a sense of burning comfort every time I tilt it back and swallow. I know there are other ways to deal with my feelings, but none are as easy as letting the thoughts get completely swallowed away by a wave of clear liquid.
When I first saw her sitting by the pool with Oakley and Ava, I was tempted to pick her up and carry her back to my room. That tiny, triangle bikini top that barely covered the massive tits that seemed to have grown overnight, and the matching bottoms that tied on the side—so easy to undo—made my cock grow. I had to place a towel over my crotch.
I don’t know what caused the sudden urge, but the need to slip my t-shirt over her toned stomach before taking her and throwing her on my bed and ripping it off again made my head swim.
She isn’t the nervous, word vomiting teenage girl she used to be back when I would come over for Anne’s famous lasagna or to practice shooting with Oakley in his backyard. No. Time had changed more than just her brother and I. It had changed her too. In all the right places.
I know that she’s struggling with work and Anne’s recent health struggles. I know that her dipshit of an ex-boyfriend dumped her on a limb and that she pretends not to be hurt by it. There isn’t a day that Oakley doesn’t talk about his sister. He misses her—living in a different country and all—and doesn’t miss a chance to gush about how proud of her he is or how badly he wishes he could have been there to shove that dweebs face into a brick wall.
Right now, I hate that I’m treated like a part of their family. I hate that at this very moment, my dick is on high alert, tenting the crotch of my basketball shorts just thinking about Gracie Hutton.
I gulp down another swig of tequila and scrunch my face as it tears down my throat, leaving it raw. Grunting, I let my neck go limp and close my eyes and kick my feet in the water.
‘The pool closed an hour ago.’
‘Fuck,’ I mutter under my breath and set the bottle down off to the side a little firmer than necessary. ‘Then what are you doing here?’ I ask, louder than before. I force my eyes to open and lift my head so I can stare at the last person I need to see tonight.
Gracie wears light blue jean shorts with a rip in the front pocket and a yellow tank top as she stands a few feet away with her arms crossed. She lifts a curious brow but smiles slightly, almost knowingly. The idea that she knows more about me than I want her to pisses me off.
‘Same as you. I needed to think.’ She sits down on the edge of the pool beside me cautiously. She doesn’t relax her tense shoulders until she knows I’m going to tell her to fuck off.
‘You don’t know me.’
‘Don’t I?’
I ponder her question as if I care about the answer.
‘Go sit by yourself if you need to think. This spot is taken,’ I grumble, too tired to put up a real fight. I’m not going to admit it, especially not to her, but her company isn’t all bad.
‘Here’s good,’ she chimes, smiling a megawatt smile that nearly knocks me into the pool. She used to have braces, I’ve seen the old pictures of her in middle school that hang on the staircase at her mother’s house. They paid off; big time. Her teeth are perfectly straight and so white that she could be in a Whitestrips commercial. I drop my blurred gaze to my knees, itching for a smoke. I always want to smoke when I’m drinking. The two go hand in hand.
‘Your loss. I’m not exactly the best company,’ I grind out through gritted teeth.
‘Who said that? Whoever did was a tool. I think you’re pretty great company.’ She sounds so sure, so sincere that it makes my stomach churn.
I snort and squint my eyes at her before I can stop myself, Gracie giggles in response, moving her feet in slow circles in the water. Her hands are tucked behind her back. She leans back on them, tilting her head back and letting her hair swing along her back.
‘I mean, you’re not always the best company, I guess.’ She laughs again, holding my gaze. The twinkle of the string lights hung above us reflects in her blue eyes. ‘You can be a real asshole.’
It’s my turn to laugh. ‘Yeah, I can.’
She doesn’t reply this time, just looks away and gnaws on her bottom lip. Something is bothering her, but I’m too stubborn to ask what it is. So instead, I guess and mumble, ‘Jason was never going to be able to keep up with you, Gray. He was a fucking loser.’
Her lip slips from between her teeth. ‘His name is Jacob.’
‘Jason, Jacob.” I roll my eyes. ‘Either way. He was mediocre, amateur at best. We both know you need someone better. Someone who isn’t going to tell all his friends how good you are in bed and all the things you can do with your tongue. A real man would want to keep that shit to himself, to fantasize about when you’re not together and he thinks about you in bed with his hand around his cock.’
Her eyes widen in surprise, and she gulps a few times as though she is struggling to breathe. Fuck, I wasn’t supposed to know that, was I? Great, now Oakley’s going to punch me for spewing out secrets.
‘Is that what I need? A real man?’ she asks slowly, almost in a whisper. I find it hard to look away from her at this moment. Her eyes bore into mine, gripping onto them with claws out.
‘It’s what you deserve.’ I nod and run a hand through my hair, still wet from the water..
I watched her tongue peek out from between her pink lips and swipe across them. I take that as an invitation to do what I’ve wanted to do since she walked away from me earlier today.
I kiss her. Hard.
