Horror spreads over her expression. “Please stop.”
“You do,” Oliver says, suddenly in older brother mode. “He has some good advice.”
“No one’s ever said that,” I say.
Oliver nods it’s true. “He knows about condoms. And STDs. How many times have you had the clap?”
“Who says ‘the clap’?” I ask.
“I do.” He laughs. “That many times? You lost count?”
I can’t help but laugh. “I’m always responsible.”
“Now,” he says.
Daisy’s blush deepens.
Luna laughs. “It’s never the sluts. It’s always the good girls, who fall for some guy who isn’t worthy of their trust.”
Oliver turns to his sister. “He can help with condoms. But he doesn’t know shit about technique. Last I heard, you’re a two-pump chump.”
“You shouldn’t dare me like that,” I say.
“You really shouldn’t.” Luna laughs. “He’s going to threaten to whip it out and prove he isn’t.”
“Hey, don’t steal my lines.” I push her playfully.
She shoots Daisy a look that says everything.
Daisy clears her throat. “Well, um, I guess you could prove it.”
“Oh?” I stare into her gorgeous blue eyes.
“Yeah.” Her gaze travels down my body. Shoulders, chest, stomach, crotch.
It just stops there.
She does nothing to hide her stare.
It’s not like the other day with my client.
The interest in her eyes sets me on fire.
At this rate…
I won’t be a two-pump chump, but I won’t last as long as I’d like. Not with her lips parting and her eyes wide.
“You could…” She looks to Luna for help.
Luna shakes her head this is your battle.
“Go upstairs.” Daisy’s gaze shifts to the floor. “Prove it.”
“Uh-huh. Don’t need to hear that.” Oliver takes his sister’s hand. “We have a town to explore.” He leans in, lowers his voice to an almost whisper. “Did you get enough to eat?”
“I’m fine,” she says.
“It’s getting late,” he says.
“A good reason to swim now.” She shoots him a please drop it look. “Actually, I’m tired of waiting for you two.” She motions to me and Oliver.
I press my hand to my chest. “I was here first.”
“And you’re wasting time with your ahem measuring contest.” She stays bright red. “When you could be—”
“Swimming naked?” I offer.
“I don’t need to see your dick.” He motions to the door let’s go. “Fuck knows I hear about it often enough.”
“Oh?” Luna asks. “Is it really that interesting?”
“Don’t bait him,” Oliver says. “He won’t stop.”
It’s true. Normally, I wouldn’t stop. Right now… well, it’s hard enough not taking orders from the fucker without making him the center of attention. “I’ll give you some details later, sweetie.” I wink at her. Then Daisy. “You too, of course.”
Her expression gets shy. Well, more shy. “I appreciate that.”
I motion after you, follow her and Luna out of the house, lock the door, try to pay attention to my small talk with Oliver.
To anything besides the back of Daisy’s thighs.
Fuck me.
This is worse torture than I imagined.
It’s a beautiful day. Blue sky. Soft sand. Ocean sparkling in the sunlight.
Daisy pulling off her cover-up, laughing as she takes her friend’s hand and runs into the ocean.
Oliver watches me watch for a second, then he plops in a deck chair, adjusts the umbrella for maximum shade. “You should go with her.”
“Should I?”
“You stop liking swimming all of a sudden?”
I try to find the meaning in his expression. “You sitting there all day?”
“This is enough beach for me.”
“Waste of a trip.”
“It’s for her.” He motions to his sister. She laughs as a wave hits her calves. “She looks happy.”
“Yeah.” At peace. Free. Relaxed. It’s rare for her.
“So, go. Have fun. I know you want to.” He motions to the water. Then to the umbrella. “I’m good.”
We’re at a beach club. It’s a few dollars an hour for a seat, an umbrella, a waiter offering icy beverages.
It’s quiet. There are people walking along the boardwalk behind us, but it’s nothing like a summer day in Venice. It’s a trickle, not a tsunami.
The beach club itself—a dozen umbrellas spread out over a space the size of my dad’s downstairs—is nearly empty. There’s an older couple in the far corner. And us.
Fuck, the ocean does look tantalizing. And not just because Daisy’s in it.
“Go. I can’t watch this puppy dog shit.” He presses his foot into my calf. Pushes me gently. “You know where you belong.”
“I do?”
“You gonna pretend you didn’t spend four years on the swim team?”
“Three.” But no reason to bring up the way I flamed out senior year.
“Go.” He pushes me a little harder. “I can’t watch you yearn.”
“I don’t yearn.”
“Yeah, you do.” He motions go one more time.
So I do.
It’s a dozen steps to the water. It’s warm. Not like the beach at Venice. This time of year, that water is tolerable. Comfortable even.
The ocean here feels more like a pool. Just cool enough it’s refreshing.
I dive under the waves.
The water envelops me.
I swim a little deeper. A little farther out. My lung capacity isn’t what it used to be.