I finish dinner. Wash the dishes. Lie on the couch.
This apartment is tiny, but it’s mine. Sure, I spend a lot of time at my dad’s place when he’s out of town—why not enjoy the basketball court and the seventy inch TV—but there’s something about having my own place.
It’s satisfying in a whole new way.
It’s like working out, seeing my muscles get bigger and stronger. Or seeing my art get better.
My accomplishments are mine. And they’re all the better for being fucking hard.
I put on one of those lawyer shows—what could be better than hot chicks in suits arguing?—but it fails to hold my attention.
My cell calls my name.
There’s a text from today’s client. I could reply. Invite her over. Clear my head by making her come.
But it doesn’t appeal.
Not when I have a text from Daisy.
Daisy: I’m sorry about Oliver. He’s being super pushy. I made a suggestion, not a demand. If you don’t want to come, that’s okay.
I want to come.
That’s the problem.
Holden: What did he say?
Daisy: You know, Oliver. Always closed-lips. But I got the gist.
Holden: You want me to come?
Daisy: I’d appreciate it, yes.
Fuck, she’s so sincere and honest. I don’t know how to respond to it. I can’t. I’m not physically capable.
Holden: You just want to see me naked.
Daisy: Why would you be naked?
Holden: Aren’t there nude beaches?
Daisy: I don’t think so.
Holden: Damn. You almost had me.
Daisy: Really?
Holden: Of course. I like to be free.
Daisy: You or your *ahem*?
Holden: Did you just type ‘*ahem*’
Daisy: Would you prefer an eggplant emoji?
A laugh spills from my lips. She doesn’t realize it, but she’s funny. She’s smart too. Way too smart to want anything to do with me.
I guess she’s too young to know that.
My friends think I want to fuck Daisy. Okay, they’re right about that. I want to fuck her. I have for a few months now.
Something clicked this summer. She stopped looking like a kid. Started looking like a woman.
Yes, I want her body under mine, over mine, in front of mine.
But I’m not trying to make it happen.
Holden: I’d prefer ‘majestic cock.’
Daisy: Majestic, really?
Holden: Just wait until you see it.
Daisy: I thought I couldn’t see it.
Holden: Damn, I forgot about that.
I know, if I don’t plan on fucking her, I shouldn’t flirt like this.
But the second I think about her adorable blush, I lose touch with my judgment. My fucking cock takes over. And it doesn’t give a fuck about her being a sweet kid. Or my best friend’s sister. Or unable to deal with casual sex.
Daisy: Would you really go to a nude beach?
Holden: You’ve never heard of skinny dipping?
Daisy: Of course, I’ve heard of it.
Holden: You’ve never done it?
Daisy: Never.
Holden: You’re missing out.
Daisy: I have a dozen swim suits.
Holden: You bringing all of them?
Daisy: Only my favorites.
Holden: How do you narrow it down?
Daisy: Color, at first.
Holden: Let me guess, pastel pink?
Daisy: Am I that obvious?
Holden: No, it’s your signature. It’s a look.
Daisy: It’s so girly. Sometimes people act like it means I’m not serious.
Holden: Fuck them.
Daisy: You probably would.
Holden: Probably.
Daisy: Isn’t that weird?
Holden: Fucking people?
Daisy: Strangers?
Holden: Yeah. It’s terrible. Don’t do it. Stay a virgin forever.
Daisy: Why did I tell you that?
She’s probably trying to keep me up all night.
Holden: Are you saying I’m not trustworthy?
Daisy: You won’t tell anyone?
Holden: Cross my heart and hope to die.
I don’t put stock in many things, but I am a man of my word.
Daisy: What’s it like? Really?
Holden: Satisfying.
Daisy: You mean that you come?
Holden: Yeah, but more than that. You’ve wanted guys before?
Daisy: Of course.
Holden: You know that feeling, when you finally touch someone you really want?
Daisy: I haven’t exactly done that much.
Holden: A small touch. Your hand on their wrist. Their lips on your neck. Their arms around you.
Daisy: That sounds romantic.
Shit, I need to pull this back. I need to sit in a tub of cold water every time I talk to her. I need to keep my head in the goddamn game.
Holden: It’s terrible. Awful. The worst.
Daisy: That’s why you do it all the time?
Holden: Masochism, yeah.
Daisy: And in Mexico?
Holden: Will I fuck someone?
Daisy: Will you?
Holden: I’m supposed to babysit you. That’s why Oliver invited me.
Daisy: I invited you.
Holden: That’s why he agreed.
Daisy: I know. But it’s not why I invited you.
Holden: Why did you invite me?
Daisy: Because I like you. I trust you. I want you to help me celebrate my birthday. It’s okay if you’re busy or not interested or unwilling to get dragged into Flynn family drama. But I do want you there.
Holden: You sure about that? I’m known to cause trouble.
Daisy: Maybe that’s why I want you.
Holden: You sure you know what you’re getting into?
Daisy: No. But I still want you to come.
Fuck.
I need to say no.
To say hell no.
To say I’m sorry, but I’m already hard picturing you in a pastel pink bikini, staring at me like you’re desperate to tear off my jeans.