He doesn’t look concerned. “Unlikely. She’s been in love with him forever. And we’ll make it clear that it’s a friends with benefits type situation. Good old fucking just for the sake of it; just to get our rocks off with a smoking hot girl all summer and until Nationals. By then we’ll be bored with her, we’ll be National champions and Penn will come to Worlds with a bruised ego and a broken heart when she rejects him.”
I can’t fight the feeling that this sounds too good to be true. “What if she doesn’t reject him? You said it yourself that she’s been in love with him forever.”
Obviously my best friend has given this whole deal a lot of thought. “Then we’ll remind Penn that we had his girl first. That we had her in every way possible. He’ll never be able to look at her again without seeing her in our arms.”
I look at Jameson. “And you’re good with this?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, why not? We’re putting all our cards on the table. If she says yes to our deal, she knows exactly what she’s signing up for.”
I still think this “deal” has the potential to go wrong in too many ways. “Right.”
Jameson’s eyes darken with lust. “Don’t tell me you aren’t getting hard at just the idea of being the first to touch her. To break her in. To teach her how you like your dick sucked, how you love to have a woman ride you.”
Fuck, good thing I was about to jump in the pool; with the images Jameson put in my head, I really need to cool down.
“So, are you in?” Peyton asks me as I slide the patio door open.
“Sure, I’m in. As long as she knows what she’s agreeing to.” I step outside and throw my towel on one of the loungers, climbing up to the diving board and jumping into the cool water of the pool.
This summer should be interesting. I just hope Peyton doesn’t lose at his own game for once.
***
Lenley
I SPEND A BIG CHUNKof the afternoon on the couch in my living room, studying the material Mom gave me.
It’s interesting to learn how much of a pioneer my papà really was; he basically invented the modern wingsuit and he was the first skydiver to perfect horizontal flying and was able to enter back into the same aircraft he had jumped from. He also was a sky surfer and a BASE jumper.
I know a lot of these things of course, because I used to spend a lot of time with him when he was planning his jumps or working on design modifications of his equipment.
Reading about him feels strange; in a way it makes me feel closer to him, and in another it makes the fact that he’s gone feel more final than ever.
I close the laptop when I get to all the articles about his death.
I can’t deal with that right now, not after the emotions of the last twenty-four hours.
My head is all over the place with what happened with Darrius and with Peyton straight after.
I’ve agreed to consider Peyton and his friends’ offer to help me get back at my best friend for the way he rejected me. I know they expect an answer from me today and I’d be lying if I said that Peyton’s kiss hasn’t been replaying in my mind in a continuous loop.
“Fuck it!” I say to myself out loud, rising from the couch and walking out of the living room from the patio door and into the backyard before my determination can evaporate like a puddle under the hot sun.
I walk on the blistering sand, deciding to go there in person, via the beach. I remember where Peyton’s house is from the party Darrius took me to last year on my birthday; it should be down the beach, pretty much in a straight line from my house.
I realize how stupid my idea to walk there really was, when my muscles start to scream in pain after walking for over forty-five minutes.
When the villa I’m looking for appears in my view, not only am I sore everywhere but I’m a gasping, sweaty mess.
I climb the stone steps that go up the hill, connecting the beach to the house backyard, debating if I should turn around with every step I take.
Only I could be so stupid to walk in the scorching sun to go see three hot guys.
I know I should go back home and call them, because if I look as terrible as I’m feeling right now, chances are that the guys will rescind their offer to teach me about sex.
But there’s no way I can walk another two miles back home, and if my red cheeks and sweaty hair will make them rethink our deal, I’ll beg them for a glass of water and a ride home.
Splash!
The first thing that comes into view as I get to the top of the stairs is a tall, muscular body jumping off a high diving board and piercing the turquoise water of an Olympic size pool; truth be told, his style is impeccable and there are minimal sprays of the chlorinated water on impact.
I stand there, red and sweaty, mesmerized by the speed and elegance of the powerful breast strokes the man uses to cover the entire length of the pool in what feels like seconds.
He’s mostly submerged while he swims length after length of the pool and I can’t tell who it is. I can only spot his dark blond hair.
On second thought, I know it isn’t Peyton by how freakishly tall the guy is. Not that Peyton is short by any means but his friend Channing is the biggest of the three; he must be well over six foot six and he looks bulkier than the other two guys.
I’m so taken looking at him swimming as if water was his natural element, that I don’t notice that someone has come out of the house until a big hand lands on one of my shoulders making me jump with a frightened yelp.
“Hey, Lenley!”
It’s Jameson, looking just as handsome as Channing in a pair of orange swimming trunks, with all his chiseled muscles on display and his raven hair shining whenever the afternoon sun hits him at the right angle.
“Oh!” I squeal, bringing a hand to my chest, willing to calm down my fast heartbeat.