Page 6 of Sand in My Boots

Erica and I met at a small liberal arts college in the middle of Michigan. I ended up there because they had an awesome graphic design program, and I didn’t make the cut at my reach school. In hindsight, I wouldn’t change my decision to attend Silverpine College—I had the best time.

Erica was a friend of my roommate’s junior year, a transfer from an even smaller college somewhere in another Midwest state. Originally from Nebraska, I could never understand how she ended up in cold Michigan, even for two years, but for whatever reason, she did. And survived the winters. I’m not one to talk much, since I grew up in Georgia, but I like the cold, whereas Erica can’t stand it. Hence, a South Carolina wedding in August.

“What was that guy’s name? The one who was a dick and totally not good for you?”

“Rico.” His name exits my lips on a sneer. I knew he was wrong from the minute I met him, but I had something to prove during that phase of my life. Or I thought I did. The ten percent when he wasn’t a dick, he could be sweet, and I swear his penis was magical. That man could draw orgasms out of me like nobody’s business.

Great. Another man’s making me all hot and bothered, for a different reason than the first.

“What was Preston’s opinion of him?”

I cluck my lips. “Not sure he ever met him.” A half-lie. They never met in person, but Preston had some words when he met him over FaceTime. Fortunately, I had already decided I wasn’t cut out to be the girlfriend of a “bad boy” and dumped him. Right after I let him fuck me into oblivion.

“I bet Cameron’s good in bed.”

I yelp. “What?” I’m not sure I understood her correctly. Why is she suddenly so interested in Cameron? “You’re getting married.”

Erica rests against the lounge chair, but her head turns toward me. “Jonah’s pretty vanilla. Nothing like what Naomi writes about.”

I sit up, my legs straddling the sides of the chair, in no way prepared to have this conversation with her. Even if Cameron wasn’t involved. No. No way. I don’t want to know about how vanilla Jonah is in bed. And yet, I find myself saying, “Like how vanilla?” followed quickly by, “No, do not answer that. I mean it, Erica. Don’t do it.”

My pulse quickens, driven by the three mai tais circulating through, not to mention a certain recreation director.

Speak of the devil.

“Shit.”

Erica doesn’t miss it, of course, and now she’s sitting up straighter, her head tracking where I stare.

She sighs. “Yeah, he’d be good. Look at the way his hips swagger.”

Funny thing, I noticed that, too. Because yeah. The man definitely has swagger. Which he didn’t have years ago. Perhaps our one night could be akin to Jonah being vanilla in bed. But what we lacked physically, Cameron made up for in other ways. There was definitely a spark, an ignited connection that night, even though the act itself was less than stellar.

Watching him now though, he’s definitely grown up, and if given the chance, I wonder if he’d be better.

What am I saying? Of course, he’d be better. It’s been years! The man has stepped up his game for sure.

“Why is your face all red?”

“Need more sunscreen.” The lie falls easily from my lips, though it’s probably not a bad idea. Besides, there’s no way—none whatsoever—that Erica and I can continue this conversation.

“Hey, babe.”

Oh, thank fuck.

Erica and I crane our necks to see Jonah behind us. I’m saved from having to continue this conversation. However, the only thing I can see and think about is how he’s vanilla in bed. That’s not a good thing.

“Hey, you. What’s up?”

“I was thinking maybe we should go rest for a bit before dinner with our parents. Mom and Dad just arrived, and I know yours will be here soon. If you don’t want to sleep, at least come back to the room with me for other stuff.”

I throw up a little in my mouth at his insinuation.

Erica’s face flames red. “I told you we could do that on the honeymoon,” she grits out. “We aren’t married yet, Jonah.”

My vision volleys between the two of them, watching as her implication finally sinks in for Jonah. “Oh, right. Yeah. That’s not what I meant, but thanks for reminding me. Gotta get some lube.”

Gross.