The Two Week Stand (Sizzling Beach 1)

Thankfully, the bartender places her cocktail on the bar in front of her, distracting her.

She thanks him and immediately takes a sip of it. “God, that’s good.”

I decide to stop bugging her about drinking too much and let her get as drunk as she wants. I’ll watch out for her and make sure she gets back to her room safe and sound.

It’s not like I have any other plans for tonight.

“I’m considering changing my name to Eeyore. What do you think?”

“First off, I’ll have to ask what your name actually is before I can offer my thoughts.”

“What’s the second thing?”

“Eh?”

“You said first off, which always means there’s a second off.”

There are so many dirty things I could say to that, but I won’t. Well, at least tonight, I won’t.

“Tell me the answer to my first question, and I’ll tell you what the second thing is.”

“Fine.” She sighs. “My name is Dillon.”

“Like Bob Dylan?”

“Exactly like that. Well, minus the Bob. Would have been a bit shit if I’d been called Bob Dylan.” She laughs. “My dad was a big Bob Dylan fan.”

“Your dad sounds cool.”

“I wouldn’t know. He died when I was a baby.”

Shit.

The normal response for people in this moment is usually to say they’re sorry. But having lost my mom when I was fifteen, I know how much I hate it whenever people say that to me.

So, instead, I say, “That sucks. You never getting to know him.”

“I thought you were gonna say sorry. People always do.”

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

“Nope. I hate it when people say that.”

“That’s what I figured.”

She stares at me for a moment, and I really like her eyes on me. I’d like other parts of her on me, too, but we’ll get to that later. But her eyes, they’re so fucking blue. A stark contrast to her dark hair. So dark that it’s almost black.

“Is your hair naturally that dark?” I hear myself asking her. I blink myself free from her gaze, feeling like a total idiot. I thought I’d upped my game since I was sixteen. Clearly not.

Not that I’m hitting on her right now. But I am laying the groundwork because I definitely want to fuck Dillon when she’s sober.

“You know I’m gonna ask why you’re asking me that before I answer, right?” She smiles.

“Your eyes are really blue, and you don’t see many dark-haired girls with blue eyes. Usually brown.”

“Well, to answer you, my hair is all natural. What about yours?”

“Oh, totally natural too.” I grin at her, and she laughs.

“I like you,” she tells me. “You’re funny.”

“I know.”

She chuckles again, shaking her head. “So, what’s your name? You know mine; it’s only fair that I know yours.”

“West,” I tell her.

“Like north, east, and south?” She grins.

“Exactly like that,” I echo her prior words. “My parents were big fans of the cardinal directions.”

She laughs again, and I really fucking like the sound.

“So, you have siblings called North, East, and South?”

“No. Thank fuck. Only child.” I’m relieved that I didn’t have a sibling who had to deal with Dad’s constant absence or his crappy treatment of Mom or watching her die way too young.

“Only child here too,” Dillon tells me, pulling me out of my thoughts. “And you never did tell me the second thing.”

“Oh yeah.”

“So …” She gestures for me to go on.

“Why Eeyore? There’s a fuck of a lot of better names out there. Like the one you currently have.”

“Because I’m a sad donkey.”

I give her a blank stare.

“You know, Eeyore, the sad donkey.”

“Not a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Please tell me you’ve heard of Winnie the Pooh.”

“Sure I have.”

“Eeyore was his buddy. The purple donkey that’s always sad and depressed.”

I shrug because I don’t remember a purple donkey.

“I can’t believe you don’t know who Eeyore is!” She shakes her head. “So disappointed, and here I was, thinking you were cool.”

“I am. Hence why I have zero clue what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Eeyore is a sad donkey. I’m sad. Ergo the name change.”

“You’re really gonna regret this conversation when you wake up sober tomorrow.”

“Shut up,” she says, but she’s laughing.

“And you don’t seem sad to me.”

She pauses and looks at me. “No, I don’t, do I?”

There’s a brief moment where we lock eyes again. I feel my skin start to prickle with desire, and my dick is definitely paying close attention.

Not tonight. She’s drunk.

“You don’t look like a donkey either,” I add with a grin to take my mind off all the sex I want to have with her.

Laughter bursts from her, breaking our eye contact. “Thank God for that! Be a bit shit if I did look like a donkey. Not that they’re not cute. But I definitely wouldn’t make a cute donkey.”

I’m grinning at her, and she says, “What?” around the straw she’s got in her mouth.