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Slipping into my swim trunks, a T-shirt, flip-flops, and a pair of sunglasses, I stepped outside and followed the barking dog. Someone threw the Frisbee back my way and I picked up when it went long. Jogging to the thrower, I passed it back.
“Hey, thanks,” he said. I placed him at twenty-one or so. He was taller than me, with brown hair and bright green eyes that reminded me of emeralds. In a way, he reminded me of Drew. He wore nothing but swim trunks, with a glistening, chiseled chest that begged to be touched. I think my stare was a little too obvious because I caught his wink. Well now. “Ciaran, right?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I ran a hand through my hair. For the most part, we were partially hidden by the small cluster of palm trees. The lagoon pool curved inward, ending in a grotto-type pool tucked inside an alcove. It wouldn’t take more than a minute for someone to come around the corner, so it wasn’t like we were fully secluded.
I wasn’t sure why, but something about my interacting with him felt illicit. The fact that he was good-looking didn’t hurt, either. “I don’t know everyone’s names, sorry,” I said.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m Jason Strickland, captain of the men’s swim team. We met the other night.” Apparently I had a question in my expression, which made him chuckle. “Pirate’s Cove? We danced around the bonfire and got a little close. Any of that ring a bell?” Jason asked, appearing bemused.
Again, it felt like I wasn’t in on some secret.
“I, uh,” I stammered, not wanting to fully admit the rest of the explanation, “was told I got a little drunk that night. I don’t remember much. I hope I didn’t end up doing something stupid.”
Jason chuckled again, causing a dimple to appear in his cheek, and I blushed for some stupid reason. Why was he having such an affect on me?
“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”
“Um, thanks,” I stammered again, my face flaming hotter. I was not good at this. Jason was making it very clear he was interested and I was acting like a twit.
“No, Ciaran, you didn’t do anything stupid, but I’ll be happy to fill in the blanks if Matty didn’t. Buster,” Jason said, referring to the dog, “will come back once Matty stops bribing him hot dogs.”
I turned around to find Matty doing that very thing. Buster and another dog, a Golden Retriever, were gulping down the scraps while their tails wagged. I noticed that Joan was talking to Matty and a second later she pointed my way.
Why did it feel like she was tattling on me?
Jason held up the Frisbee. “Want to go a few rounds before giving me a private tour?”
A burst of nervous butterflies exploded in my stomach. A tour wouldn’t hurt, right?
I didn’t want to say yes, but I didn’t want to say no, either. Part of me appreciated the fact that Jason wasn’t beating around the bush.
“Maybe. It depends on how good you are at Frisbee, Jason.”
Jason’s smile could melt snow. “You’re about to find out, Ciaran.”
30
MATTHIAS
It was just Frisbee, I told myself. Just two men throwing around a Frisbee disk with Buster running between them.
“You can’t blame it on the red fire oblivion this time, Matty,” Joan said.
Grilling duties were over so it was time to chill out and enjoy the rest of the evening.
The three of us were floating together in the pool. Filipe was fast asleep on the flamingo and slouched in such a way that it would take one small nudge for him to fall in the water. He wasn’t lying about passing out after practice everyday this week.
I was floating in a giant donut and Joan was lounging on a bright yellow floating chair.
Here in a bit, the plan was for everyone who was still around to grab a surfboard and head down to the beach if they wanted to surf before the sun went down. With it being a Friday night, many had other plans. Half of the team had already left.
I’d even invited Zoey, who accepted, and would be here in about an hour. Given that her dad was an Olympic swimmer, Zoey had practically been raised in the water and could hold her own on a surfboard.
I, of course, could not get in the water. I was stuck being an observer as I was taking Coach Anderson’s threat at face value. Going forward, I was even prepared to jerk off using my left hand. It wouldn’t be difficult to conjure images of Ciaran’s hands on me, and a lack of left-handed finesse wouldn’t be an issue.
“It’s just Frisbee,” I said after taking a swig from my beer. The breeze had turned me around so I was now facing the front of the estate and no longer had eyes on Ciaran and Jason’s frolicking.
Okay, frolicking was probably too strong a word.
