Summer's Kiss (The Boys of Ocean Beach 1)

“You’re pretty good at this,” I tell him, squirming when he pushes my hair aside and concentrates on my neck.

Barely stopping, he asks, “What specifically?”

“Distracting me.”

“Summer,” he says, my name rolling off his tongue with a sweet and southern twang. He runs his fingers down the side of my leg. “I can do more than distract you.”

I pull his face to mine, clasping my fingers in the thick, soft hair at the back of his neck. I kiss him again, harder, tugging on his lip before letting go. When I look up, he’s grinning and my chest heaves in clichéd anticipation. I know that this is the moment where things go from fun with Justin to something a bit more. I know that I should stop and tone this down. Instead I ask, “How so?”

I know the answer already, I can see it in the way his jaw clenches and feel it as he presses against me, but I want to hear him say it.

Before he speaks, he hops off the couch and picks me up and carries me toward the bedroom. With his back pressed against the closed door and my legs around his waist, I see the mischievous glint in his eye. “I can make you forget.”

* * *

If there’s one thing I learn that night, it’s that Justin Hawkins is true to his word. Once we’re in his room, I forget about Mason. The second he peels off his shirt and tosses it on the floor next to his bed, all thoughts of him and the fight are gone. All the bad things are wiped away with the feel of the fuzzy, scattered hair trailing between his belly and his waist. So soft and sensitive, he flinches under my touch. The disastrous end of the year vanishes when I run my fingers over the smooth skin on his hips, where the muscle dips and my thumbs fit perfectly. He’s sweet and gentle and doesn’t even try to take off my tank or shorts, but he does more than make me forget when he touches me in return, dragging his hands down my sides. Kissing me between my breasts. The past becomes foggy and lost when he uses his fingers, slow and skilled, to make me question any desire I ever had to go to France.

And later, in his dark, quiet room, he tells me about his life. School and friends. He explains how the water feels under his surfboard and how hard it was to leave Ocean Beach for that first year of college. He tells me about his high school graduation and how proud his brothers were. How his mother wasn’t there. He reenacts the day he landed in the hospital from wiping out on his board, while pointing out the awards and prizes tacked to his wall. He guides my hands and lets me feel the scar behind his ear and he kisses me long and slow, over and over until there is nothing left but us.

* * *

I feel like I’ve only been asleep for a minute when I hear the quiet beeping of an alarm. The bed shifts and heaves and a groan comes from the dark. I crack open a heavy eye. It’s not even light outside.

Justin rolls back in bed, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my neck. “What time is it?” I ask. I attempt and fail to open my eyes.

“Five,” he mumbles into my hair.

“Who gets up at five in the summer?”

He wiggles closer and I feel him behind me. The hard, awake part of him behind me. “People who work.”

“Oh, those people.”

“You don’t have to get up with me. Stay as long as you want.” His breath is hot on my neck and it takes a lot of strength not to pick up where we left off the night before.

I roll toward him and rest my head on his chest. “Thanks for letting me hide out for the night.”

“Thanks for letting me distract you.”

He kisses my forehead and sits up. I prop up on my elbow and say, “People are going to think we had sex.”

In the lightening room I can see him nod his head and rub his face, trying to wake up. “What people? No one knows you’re here.”

“There’s probably a write up on it in the Campground Gazette already,” I grimace. “Speaking of, exactly why didn’t we have sex?” I ask. I’m okay that we didn’t. Relieved even, but things were pretty intense the night before and definitely felt like they were headed that way. Justin managed a level of control that surprised me.

“Because you were too vulnerable and I’m a gentleman,” he laughs. “Plus, those ot

her things we did were kind of awesome, too.”

My cheeks warm under his compliment and I feel his hand on my stomach, trailing under the hem of my shirt. Everything with Justin is easy. Fun-easy, I think. He agrees, I know it, because nothing like this has ever happened to me so fast and he seems just as willing to take the ride. My mind begins to race a million miles a minute with thoughts of school and Mason. I force myself to ignore them and my morning-breath to lean over and kiss him. Because that’s what being fun-easy is all about.

* * *

There’s nothing worse than The Walk of Shame. Everyone has done it. Sneaking into the dorm or back to an apartment before classes start for the day. Tell-tale signs: Messy bedhead. The same clothes as the night before. Smeared make-up. Oh, and don’t forget the purplish bags under the eyes from lack of sleep.

While Justin showers and dresses, I try my best to tame my hair and at least wash my face. It doesn’t help that he and I were up late and awake early. Not to mention my eyes have that post-ugly-cry puffy thing going on.

Whit’s in the kitchen when I walk out, dropping vegetables into a blender. Shirtless, his broad, tanned chest is exposed and his hair is tied up in a bun. He winks when he sees me.