CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Cole

"Holy fuck!" Marla cursed. "Your description did not do him justice," she added, setting the binoculars beside her lounger. "So, this is a Wednesday at your beach?" she asked, fanning her face like what she'd seen was far too hot for her.

"Told you," I stated. "And worse, he's actually a nice guy."

"You sure he's twenty-two?" She asked, grabbing the binoculars and taking another look, at least her tenth in the past hour. I nodded. "He looks like a teenager. You know, like one of those skateboarders you see and dream about in Central Park. So lean and sexy."

"College-educated, too," I reminded her.

She held her hand up toward me. "No need to sell me on him. I hear you, baby cakes."

I handed her the bottle of wine. "I'm too old, right?" I asked. "He's out of my league?"

"That kid is out of everybody's league, honey."

"Thanks for that," I gruffed, knowing she was right about Chad.

We watched as he and three other surf hunks paddled out to catch a wave. I broke the silence by standing up. "I have got to stop doing this," I stated, gesturing to the binoculars and the ocean. "He doesn't even know I'm alive."

I headed for the expansive opened wall of glass and to the living area just off the deck to get out of the bright sun. The wall was folded into itself and open to the warm summer breeze, but the cool shade was just within.

"Fuck that! I'm going down there," Marla announced.

I spun around as she stood and grabbed her wineglass, heading for the stairs leading to the trail and the beach. "No!" I hollered, rushing to her side and grabbing her arm. "You can't do that," I insisted.

"I can and I will," she replied, turning back to the Atlantic. "That is a beach. The sand is public property. This bikini was two hundred bucks. I look amazing, and I'm going down there to meet those fellas."

"Jesus, Marla!" I said, flushing every shade of red possible. "I'm not ready."

"You'll never be ready, sweetie, and I haven't the time to be dilly-dallying and waiting for you to shit or get off the pot," she said. She motioned to my empty wineglass. "Fill that fucker up and grab another bottle. We are going to the beach, Loverboy."

"Fuck," I mumbled under my breath as we walked the trail to the beach.

"I heard that," my impulsive friend said. "We're going, so quit your bitchin', mister."

I tugged on her arm, forcing her to stop and turn around. "How do I look?" I spun around, thankfully hidden from view by the tall grass in the dunes. "The body? Fat or not fat?"

She shook her head and frowned. "You're a fucking eleven out of ten but acting like a two-bagger, Cole."

"Well?" I persisted.

"You look perfect. The hair, the cute trunks, the glowing skin," she said, using her fingers to count my qualities. "You're so damn hot, I'd fuck ya. Now let's get the fuck down there before you end up with me, you pussy."

"You're gross," I said.

She placed a hand on her hip and glared at me. "What I am is the person who is tired of her hot-as-fuck friend acting like a newbie at the junior high dance. Look at you, Cole. You are a frikken' catch."

"Honest?" I asked, embarrassed that I was acting like a nervous nelly. "What am I even doing, Marla?"

She stepped closer and placed a finger on my chest. "You're investigating," she began. "You're going to pull your head outta your uptight ass and you are going to get to know him."

"I already know him," I pointed out, stepping out of my flip-flops and carrying them as we continued down the sandy trail.

"See? You know him already. Piece of cake. You'll see."

Marla had the brevity of a Pitbull if a Pitbull could also be Miss Universe. She was five years older than I was but had the body of a gal in her twenties. Not to say her face was her age giveaway. It wasn't. She was routinely mistaken for under thirty. She was tall with ash-blonde hair, perky tits—real ones—and an ass you could rest a pint of beer on. And sassy as fuck.

We broke out of the tall grass and into the open as two of the surfers jumped off their boards near shore and headed toward us. The pair looked like a commercial for healthy living if the producers were looking for raw sex appeal. They both carried their boards under an arm as saltwater cascaded down the front of their torsos, most of it caught in the tiny valleys of their abs and the sharp edges of their obliques.

Marla headed straight for the water's edge and waited for them. I faltered as I looked for Chad, wondering whether to follow her. I felt like the uninvited guest at a house party of the popular kids.

Marla quickly caught my attention. "Get over here," she hissed.

I hurried to her side and tried to act cool. I was a dork inside. I was out of place and afraid I looked like an old joke.

One of the guys walked directly up to me and presented his hand for a fist bump. He was as lean as Chad, just not quite as hot. He had a tattoo of a hornet on his shoulder, the stinger five times the size of its butt. "Hey, Mr. Hicks," he said, moving stringy hair out of his eyes. "We were wondering if you'd ever come down to say hey." He knew my name?

His buddy, a real looker with buzzed and sun-bleached hair, stepped to his side. "Yo, bro!" he exclaimed. "You is fuckin' ripped, man. Chad wasn't shittin' when he described you to the guys."

Hornet boy was grinning from ear to ear at Marla, taking a step closer and nodding seductively. "And you…" he began, his eyes scanning Marla's body like a TSA airport checkpoint perv. "Woof," he said, letting out a long breath. "Chad didn't say nuttin' about a hottie girlfriend."

Marla actually giggled. "You got the hottie part correct, you naughty little boy," she said, talking as slutty as the girl from high school that every boy had an intimate relationship with. "But I'm single."

"I ain't no boy, ma'am," he said, stepping closer and holding his hand out to her. "My buddies call me by my last name, Harder, but right this second, you can call me Hard."

"Is that a fact?" she asked, moving her eyes directly to his crotch and a very low-riding pair of board shorts. He twitched his pecs and his dick jumped in his shorts. Marla grinned. "Nice trick. Very classy. How old are you, kid?"

"Twenty-six," he replied. "Got a job, too."

"That's enough, Marla," I said, stepping between them and shaking the hand of Buzz cut, Hornet's buddy. "Cole Hicks," I said, introducing myself.

"Bodie Hicks," he said, smiling and holding my hand. "I wonder if we're related," he asked. "Fuck that! I sure hope not," he quickly added, still holding my hand and gazing directly into my eyes. "You're actually gay, huh?" he asked.

He caught me off guard, but Chad must have told him. "Yes," I replied. "Yes, I am," I repeated for no reason other than he still had my hand in his and was studying my face too closely for me to hide any imperfections.

"Chad said you were smokin' hot, but fuck, dude. You're the real deal. Bustin' and shit."

I pried my hand away and backed up. "Thank you for that. I mean, thank you, that was a… a nice thing to say and all," I stammered.

"Calm down, Rico Sauvé," Marla teased, turning her focus to Bodie. "You into men?" she asked, directing her attention to the cute guy beside me.

"I'm into whatever this is," he quipped, jabbing his finger into my stomach. "Label it whatever you like, but I'm what they call ‘fluid.'"

Marla turned to me and sighed. "God, to be their age again," she stated dreamily. "Fluid. Did you hear that, Cole? This delicious specimen of boyhood is fluid. Yummy," she declared, licking her upper lip.

"Forgive her," I said. "She doesn't get out of the big city too often."

"Hang with us a bit," Hornet boy said. He motioned to a red Coleman cooler jutting out of the weeds. "Got a cooler of cold brews over there. Let's get to know one another, people."

"Lead the way, Harder," she said, tugging on my arm to join them as we headed toward the cooler.

Harder slid his hand into Marla's while she held mine, and Bodie grabbed my other as we walked across the sand. I felt like a participant in an upcoming free-love Woodstock sequel.

"You're hot as fuck, Cole," Bodie said, leaning into my ear. "I'm callin' dibs on you."

He squeezed my hand tighter and pulled me along as I stared out at the surf, wondering where the surfer I actually came down to see was at.

"Chad coming back to shore?" I asked as Bodie pulled me down beside him.

"Who knows? Him and Rat are paddling out further for the bigger ones," he replied. "You don't need those two anyway, because you have my full attention now."

Marla laughed at my nervousness. I'd come down to the beach feeling insecure and too old to be relatable, yet an incredibly hot surfer, possibly half my age, was throwing himself at me.

"See?" Marla asked, reaching for the bottle of wine I set in the sand. "You is hot, Mr. Hicks."

"I was hoping to see Chad," I said. "At least say hi."

"Don't waste your time, dude," Bodie inserted, making a sour face. "Our Chad is not interested in random dudes. Trust me, I've been hitting on him all summer and not a damn thing has happened."

"Maybe cuz you ain't his type, Bodie," Harder quipped. "He likes ‘em older."

Bodie grabbed my arm and yanked me into him, nearly knocking my wineglass out of my hand. "Well, this one's mine," he insisted.

I'd had majorly hot fantasies, many times, along with steamy jack-off sessions, dreaming about some sexy-as-fuck surfer boy seducing me and having steamy sex with me, and now I was living the fantasy and trying to figure out how to bow out graciously.

"Easy, boy," Marla piped up, waving her finger at Bodie. "Our Mr. Hicks is a gentleman."

Bodie snorted and grinned like a devil who'd just taken a new soul. "He won't be when I'm finished with him."

Bodie started laughing and roughhousing with me, pulling me on top of him and nuzzling my neck aggressively. I was fascinated by his youthful and lean aggression, his wiry body trying to wrap me up in some kind of feverish attempt at satisfaction, but this was in public, with other eyes.

I managed to unwrap myself from what felt like a thousand limbs manipulating and dry-humping me. As soon as I rolled over and onto my back, I found Chad standing on the shore, staring at us.