I don’t know what makes me do it, but rather than letting him finish on his stomach, I take him in my hand and stroke him until he releases on my tits. It gives me a little thrill I didn’t expect, a sharp sting of naughtiness. Once he’s stopped shuddering, I peer up at his gorgeous face and see raw lust staring back at me.

“Fuck,” he says, winded and brushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

I laugh awkwardly. “I’m just gonna get cleaned up.”

As I’m getting up to go to the bathroom, his phone buzzes on the floor. He answers it while I’m waiting for the shower to heat up. I can’t make out exactly what he says, but he sounds upset when he hears who’s on the other end.

“I can’t,” I think he says. “Forget it… The answer’s still no.”

It’s Kai again, I have no doubt of that. Whatever Conor’s old friend is after, he’s not letting this go.

And Conor’s not offering any details. After I’m out of the shower, there’s a distinct thundercloud over his mood, until he finally turns down my invitation to stay the night and heads home early.

Goddamn Kai. I wish he’d just go away. Clearly there’s still something between those two, some terrible secret that’s eating Conor up inside. As badly as I want him to talk to me, though, I’m not going to push him.

I just hope he finds a way to deal with it before it consumes him entirely.

26

Conor

The water is freezing. Even through my wetsuit it still stings my toes if I don’t keep moving. I paddle in circles just to keep my body temp up, but it doesn’t bother me. Nothing gets to me when I’m on my board and the swells are passing beneath me. Nothing penetrates the roar of waves crashing against the shore and the seagull cries overhead and the saltwater on my tongue. It’s like being inside a snow globe. A perfect sphere of tranquility separate from everything and everyone else. Serene.

Then I feel the ocean pulling at me, the suction dragging out. I know my wave’s coming and get myself lined up. Flat on my chest. Fingernails digging into the wax. Poised. And you just gotta sense it now.

I paddle to stay ahead of it just enough, until finally I pop up, vibration climbing my legs.

Find the balance.

Meet the wave.

Out here they don’t last long. Only a few seconds until they break and fall and glide gently into the wash.

I get about an hour in the water before the sun has fully settled into the morning sky. I’m stripping out of my wetsuit at the Jeep when I see Hunter drive up in his Land Rover with Bucky, Foster, Matt and Gavin. Less than a minute later, a second vehicle carting Jesse, Brodowski, Alec, and Trenton pulls into the parking lot. By nine the entire team’s made it out to the beach for a cleanup with the SurfRider Foundation.

“Nice turnout,” Melanie, the volunteer coordinator, tells me when I introduce the boys. They fall all over themselves to greet her as if they’ve never seen a woman before. “You guys local?”

“A bit up the road in Hastings,” I say. “We’re from Briar.”

“Well, it’s great to have you. We appreciate the support.”

We all take a bucket, some gloves, and trash-picker poles from the tent they’ve got set up on the beach. Foster leers at a group of cute BU sorority girls walking by and raises his hand. “Uh, yeah, I’m new and not a good swimmer. Can I be paired with a buddy? I prefer blondes.”

“Shut up, dipshit.” Hunter elbows him in the ribs. “Don’t worry,” he assures Melanie. “I’m his chaperone.”

She grins. “Thank you. Now get to work, gentlemen.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Matt says. He flashes a grin, and, despite being at least five years older than him, Melanie proves that no woman, of any age, is immune to Anderson’s dimples.

I’d gotten involved with the foundation back in Huntington Beach, so when I saw they had a local chapter, I signed up without a second’s thought. But not everyone is taking to it with a positive attitude. Only an hour into the cleanup, Bucky’s already pitching a fit.

“I don’t remember going to court,” he grumbles, trudging through the sand with a bucket. “I feel like I’d remember that.”

“Stop complaining,” Hunter chides him.

“And come to think of it, I don’t recall getting arrested, either.”

“Shut up,” Foster says.

“So someone tell me why I’m on a chain gang on my day off.” Bucky bends over and starts wrestling with an item buried in the sand. As he does, the rest of us catch a whiff of something foul. Like a dead animal boiled in sewage.

“Oh damn, what is that?” Matt winces and covers his face with his shirt.

“Leave it, Buck,” Hunter says. “It’s probably somebody’s dog.”

“What if it’s a body?” Jesse pulls out his phone, ready to capture the gory reveal.

“It’s stuck on my stupid pole,” Bucky says irritably. He proceeds to dig sand out of the way, yanking, pulling, fighting with the awful stinking thing that won’t break free until finally he flies backward.

Sand sprays over our heads. Bucky’s ass hits the ground at the same time that a loaded diaper tangled in a discarded volleyball net lands on top of him. What looks like more than a few discarded rotisserie chicken carcasses lie in the remnants of the hole he’d dug.

“Holy fuck, man, you’re covered in baby shit!” Foster shouts as we all back away from the horror show.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna barf.”

“That’s so nasty.”

“It’s all over you!”

“Get it off me! Get it off!” Bucky writhes around in the sand while Hunter tries to capture the diaper with his grabber thing and Foster keeps kicking more sand on him for some reason.

Matt is cackling at the scene unfolding in front of us. “Wash it off, dumbass,” he tells Bucky.

I’m pretty sure Matt means for Bucky to utilize the showers up by the parking lot.

Instead, Bucky strips out of everything but his boxers and goes sprinting into the freezing surf.

Oh boy. It’s fifty-four degrees on land and the wind’s blowing at a good clip. But mind over matter, I suppose, because Bucky dives headfirst and swims out, furiously scrubbing and rinsing.

We all watch his progress. I’m feeling real admiration for the guy. I was out there earlier freezing my ass off in a wetsuit. I shudder to think of that frigid water tickling my bare balls.

When Bucky finally runs back out of the water, he’s turned a shade of blue and is shivering like a dog in an ASPCA commercial. I swiftly take off my Henley and give it to him. Gavin’s waiting for him with a towel. As for shorts, he’s kind of shit out of luck.

“Go warm up in the Jeep.” I hand Bucky the keys.

He snatches them. “I hate the environment.”

As soon as he’s out of earshot, the guys drop to their knees laughing.

“He’s gonna be traumatized for life after that,” Foster says, still working off the chortles.

“Dude’s never coming to the beach again,” Gavin agrees.

“I don’t blame him.” Hunter grins before sauntering off to toss all the feces-covered garbage in the dumpster.