“Kiddo.”
My eyes pry themselves open. As the sleep clears, The Sundance Kid races across the screen, shouting for his partner in crime.
Our TV is a small, square box, which is propped up on the fold out table in front of us, along with a few empty beers and scraps from dinner.
I’ve passed out in the crook of my dad’s arm. And drooled on myself.
Real baller right here.
Dad points to the window. “Your secret admirer is back.”
As if on cue, there’s a plink! against the window. A muffled voice: “Donovan!”
I jump up and wipe my mouth with the back of my arm. I fling open the door of our trailer.
She’s there. Looking ethereal in a white dress and a dangerous smile.
I hang halfway out the door. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she says. Small pile of acorns in her hand. And then: “Wanna come to a party tonight?”
“Sounds gross.”
“Which is why I’m inviting you, nimrod.”
I stifle a grin. “Okay.”
Jason picks us up in a golf cart. Which is not the ride we expected.
We both changed for the occasion—she’s wearing a bathing suit underneath tiny shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and bright orange sneakers and, somehow, pulls it all off. I’m in my one pair of pants without holes in them, a black button up with the top buttons undone. Kenzi has also had her fun running a little gel through my hair and adding some liner to my eyes. I don’t hate either of it.
Jason is classic prep boy chic, in his polo shirt, khaki pants.
“What, no hot rod?” Kenzi asks as she climbs into the back of the cart. I follow suit, gripping the side.
“It’s the only thing my dad lets me drive after I wrecked the Buick.” As he starts it back up, Jason adds, “And the Mercedes.”
Hannsett Island is a little over five miles long, so it’s golf-cart friendly.
Jason drives us to the beach on the east end. The sunset stretches ribbons of orange and pink across the sky and ocean. The air tastes dry and salty.
Hannsett Island has two main beaches: bayside and cliffside. We’re going to the cliffs now, which has choppier surf and therefore is less populated by tourists. The cliffs are made of clay and, after the rain, you can scoop your fingers through it and draw clay-tattoos over your skin, like henna.
We can hear the party before we see it. Jason parks, we hop out, and he lifts a huge cooler that clinks when he carries it. Kenzi and I are in charge of the more manageable things—a couple of beach towels, a fold out chair.
We climb the sand dune and the tall grass tickles my calves. The sun is dying, but we have plenty of light—a roaring bonfire in the middle of the beach. A boombox blares. Someone picks a guitar to an entirely different song. When Jason enters the scene, he’s greeted with a war cry. He lifts his hand in acknowledgement. The King settling his buzzed and blazed clan.
This is not my clique—hell, this isn’t even the same species. They are the rich and beautiful of Hannsett Island. I’m the guy who polishes Daddy’s boat.
I feel my feet slow down, toes sinking in the sand the closer we get to the group.
Jason’s core gang circles him. He points to me and Kenzi.
“This is Kenzi. Kenzi, this is Nick, Amy, and Brett.”
Nick glares at me. “What’s Dick Boy doing here?”
I brace for impact.
“I invited him,” Jason says, which surprises me. He’s claiming me. Then Jason’s eyes sweep over Nick. “Go grab him a beer, yeah?”
They’re bowing up—two stags with clashing horns. And then Nick breaks.
“Yeah,” Nick says. “Okay.”
Ah. So this is what it feels like to be blessed by the protection of Saint King himself.
Nick doesn’t stop glaring at me, but he obeys, pulling two High Lifes out of the cooler. He hands one to me and one to Kenzi.
I take it and swallow back my small victory. I’m not used to the taste.
Amy—all thin limbs and blonde hair—leans her body into Jason’s. She plays with the collar of his shirt. “Can I steal you for a second?”
“Sure,” Jason grins. “Be right back.”
He won’t be right back, not if the hungry look in Amy’s eyes is any indication as she drags him through the dune grass.
Kenzi plops down next to the guitarist. “So!” she says cheerfully, “Can you play anything other than Kumbaya?”
Kenzi is vivacious and bright. She might not fit the mold—Barbie-doll girls with big tits and empty heads—but she has a cutting wit and is “one of the boys” well. Maybe they can smell the entitlement on her, like a pheromone. They accept her into the group and she blends in well.
Meanwhile, I sit beside her, quietly drink my beer, and sift sand between my toes. The lower layer still retains the day’s heat.
Eventually, Kenzi and I peel off from the heat of the bonfire. We end up sitting on a dried out husk of fallen tree, drinking and watching the sea creep up.
Kenzi points at the stars. “That’s Big Bird.”
“I think you mean Big Bear.”
“No. Big Bird. Look at his beak!”
I laugh. The beers have made me hazy. “So I guess you’re going to be an astronaut when you get older, huh?”
“I might.” She turns to me. “What about you?”
“Doctor.”
“Seriously?”
I nod. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. When my mom got sick…Chemo and all that. The doctors that took care of her, they were my heroes. I want to do that for someone else.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“Plus. The salary is nice.”
“Ah, there it is.”
We laugh. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jason leave the bonfire to come join us.
He’s lost his shirt and it’s hard to avoid looking at the glint of his muscled abdomen.
“Hey, beautifuls.” Jason flops down beside us. He’s got his back on the sand and when he moves, I see it sticking to his shoulder blades.
“I think it’s flirting with you, Kenzi,” I tell her.
Jason cranes his neck back at us. “You having fun?”
“Not as much fun as you.” Kenzi pokes his side with her toes. “You have lipstick on your neck, champ.”
Jason rubs the side of his neck. “Is it my color?”
“A little bright.”
“Hey,” Jason says. “You guys wanna play a game?”
“What?”
“Spin the bottle?” Jason ventures.
“I’d rather give myself a lobotomy,” I answer.
“Truth or dare?” Kenzi offers.
Jason snaps his fingers and points at her. “Bingo. Truth or dare, Kenzi?”
She grins. “Dare.”
“Alright. I dare you to jump in the water.”
Kenzi snorts a laugh. “Alright. Can do.”
With that, she stands up and starts unbuttoning her shirt.
Kenzi is a lot of things. Afraid isn’t one of them.
I grip the neck of my bottle a little tighter as I watch her fingers work off her buttons, one after the other. The firelight is licking at her skin, casting flickering shadows from the downward tilt of her chin, the curves of her breasts.
I remind my body to be still. I remind myself not to lick my lips like a hungry wolf. Everything in me goes rigid, though, when she drops her shirt and wiggles out of her pants.
I try to remind myself that I’ve seen her in a bathing suit before. But there’s something about tonight. The way the bonfire light makes her creamy skin golden. The way her dark hair falls around her shoulders. That small dip in her back, inviting the touch of a hand.
I’m painfully hard. And I’m not alone. Jason watches her undress, his eyes never leaving her.
She glances back at us. Narrows her eyes. A light grin rests on her lips. “What’s up? First time seeing a fat girl in a bikini?”
Then she flips us the bird and rushes to the water. There’s a whoop from the firepit. She dives into the water, her pearly white body vanishing in the dark water.
For a second, all I can hear is the rushing of my own blood.
“So what’s the deal with you two?” Jason asks suddenly.
I weigh the question. “What do you mean?”
“Friends? Dating? Friends with benefits?”
My laugh that escapes me is more like a hiss. My jaw won’t unclench.
“Look—it’s not any of my business if you’re gay. Or bi. Or whatever. But there is something I want you to know.” Jason puts his hand on the drift wood. The way we’re positioned right now—me, splayed out on the sand, him, hovering over me—it’s close, and strangely intimate. Yet he doesn’t have any trouble looking me directly in the eyes.
And that is the real power of Jason King. His ability to hang in an uncomfortable situation without even blinking.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“I’m going to fuck her.” When he says it, he does so bluntly. Matter-of-fact. “Maybe not tonight. But I’m going to fuck her this summer. And I’m going to make her cum. Hard. And when she does, she’s going to be screaming my name. Not yours.”
Jason pushes back and straightens up. He flashes me a smile. “Enjoy your beer, angel,” he says before heading towards the water.
So much for Mr. Nice Guy. I hug my beer closer and nurse it.
My ears burn. I want to leave, but I’m not leaving without Kenzi, so I sip on my beer and stare off into the water. I catch glimpses of her splashing around. I try to swallow my unease, but the carbonation fizzes in my stomach and brings it back up.
