Chapter 9

CHAPTER

NINE

SANTOS

I t's been ages since I've stepped foot on a beach. It's also been years since I read a book in a matter of days, but here I am, strolling down the steps behind Shiba's Seaside. Less than two weeks ago, Natie loaned me his novel. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and not only because the idea of holding one of Natie's possessions makes my heart flutter. I'm prepared to discuss it with him, and since he's working back here, that's where I'm headed.

It's a warm Sunday evening in March despite the cool ocean breeze on my cheeks. I spot Natie moving a white beach lounge chair off of a stack in the distance. He doesn't seem to notice me, so I stride right up to him. Sand gets in my sneakers, and probably on my jeans, but I don't mind. Natie's much more appropriately dressed in flip-flops and shorts. If he took the hoodie off, he'd resemble some kind of Baywatch-esque lifeguard of my dreams. Maybe he could give me mouth-to-mouth…

As I'm thinking that, the seven-foot-high stack of lounge chairs begins to topple over. "No, no, oh crap!" he grunts.

I rush into place, my athletic instincts kicking in. I hold the tower up, then, with a light push, I manage to get it upright. Natie sighs in relief then flicks his black bangs. He's all sweaty, and I nearly lick my lips at the sight. When he notices me, he seems bewildered.

"Santos?"

"Hey, Natie." I give a friendly wave, then look up. "May I?"

"Oh, no, you—" I don't let him finish his sentence before I grab a large white lounge chair and plop it on the sand.

"Right here okay?" I ask, grabbing another one with ease. I'm able to maneuver them faster than he was, and yes, I'm showing off. What's the point of massive muscles if I don't get to flaunt my skills in front of my crush? I may be plumper around the waist than in my high school football days, but I work out to maintain my strength. Natie never looked my way during pep rallies in high school, but better late than never, right?

"Yeah, it's…I'm setting them up for…"

"For spring tourists, right?" I continue to pull chairs off while he moves them into a line.

"Exactly." He claps his hands and wipes his brow. "How'd you know about that?"

I pull off the last chair, then shrug. "I grew up in Newlantic, remember?"

He chuckles. "Right." He looks off into the ocean. Despite the mild weather, no one's around. The sun has begun to set in the cool, March air, and it's as if the two of us are in our own little beach world.

We quietly get to work moving the chairs around, and in no time at all, the task is completed. I break out into a mild sweat underneath my dark brown pleather jacket, but I don't mind. I'm good with my hands, and I'll do anything to impress my high school crush. With the task over, the man himself walks up to me, clapping his hands.

"Thanks," he says with a shy grin.

"N-n-no problem," I stutter.

"The Handyman is still handy after all these years, eh?"

He grins in an outlandish manner, but I cringe. I despised that nickname more than I hated all the attention in high school. The gay jokes about hand jobs shoved me further into the closet during my adolescence. I've spent the past decade running away from The Handyman persona, but naturally, Natie recalls my past.

Seeming to recognize my discomfort, Natie drops his smile and gazes out at the shore. "So what brings you here?"

"Your dad told me you were outside." I point my thumb behind me.

"Of course he did."

"Y-y-you were going to set this up all by yourself?"

He shrugs and walks forward, and I tag along. "Dad said he was gonna do it, but the last time he did, he strained his back. I asked him to hire someone, but he forgot."

"And no one else can help?"

"My brother is busy at the school where he works. So it's up to me as manager."

We make the short trek to the concrete foundation of the resort hub. He opens a gate, and I follow him up the stairs leading to the pool deck. The pool is closed and the tiki-themed bar is unoccupied, so we remain undisturbed. Before I can make a remark, Natie walks into the bar and motions for me to sit. After a beat, he procures two beers.

"Thank you." My cheeks burn as he hands me a bottle. Natie wants to have another drink with me!

"This is the least I could do." He takes a sip, and I avert my gaze away from his long, toned neck. I study the marina to my left, anything to distract me from ogling at the gorgeous guy across the bar. "So, Dad told you I was here, huh? What brings you to the resort? Did you and Santana want to try the cake again?"

I snicker. "No. She's very happy with the peach cake."

"Then why'd you come by?" He leans forward, genuine curiosity written all over his face.

"I wanted to return the book I borrowed."

He grins and leans in. "You finished it already?"

"Yeah." I whip out the book from my coat pocket. Part of the reason I bought this jacket was for maximum potential portage.

"Oh, nice. What'd you think?"

"I enj-j-joyed it."

"Yeah?" He smiles eagerly at me. "When the tree spirit monster confessed that he still had feelings for that red-headed dude?"

"That was so sweet," I reply.

"Ugh, that first kiss, though." He shivers and bites back a squeal. He exudes an abundance of cuteness. "I'm such a sucker for romance. Hetero, men loving men, women loving women, or any combination of genders—it doesn't matter, I love it all."

"I concur." We both grin, then sip our beers at the same time. "Though I'm partial to men loving men," I add. "Love a good happily ever after."

"Yeah?" Natie opens up his book, and a paper falls out. Crap, I'd forgotten to remove that . "What's this?"

"It's, uh…" I try to reach for the yellow sticky note, but Natie grabs it.

Upon reading it, he beams at me. "Is this your commentary?"

I shrug, but Natie laughs. It's not a mocking tone, more so a sound of…joy? "This…this is awesome!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, just like in English class. I remember you were so smart. You had all these awesome thoughts about every book."

A little piece of me transcends into Heaven, then settles back down to reality. "Y-y-you remember that?"

"Of course. You don't remember talking to me?"

"I do."

Natie smiles, and it captivates me. If this bar wasn't between us, he'd be leaning into my space. It's entirely possible that Natie and I are growing into something beyond polite acquaintances. I'd love to reach over the wooden bar and plant my lips on his…

He leans back and shakes off his bangs. "The others ignore me whenever I talk books."

"Why?" I ask, sipping my beer.

"They think romance is stupid. Even though this is a book about monster shifters, the guys don't appreciate it." He plays with the yellow sticky note in his hands. Seeing my handwritten words on it, it's as if Natie is toying with my very heart.

"I…appreciate it." When Natie looks at me, dark eyes through long eyelashes, I almost skip a breath.

"Hey," he says slowly. "I've got a wild idea."

We should make out? "What?"

"Do you wanna read the other books in the series and annotate them?"

"Uh…"

"And I'll do the same and we can trade!"

"Like a…book club?" I'm already convinced, but I need to hear what he wants.

"Yeah. That'd be so cool. I can't remember the last time I got to talk books with someone. But only if you don't think it's lame."

"I d-d-don't."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

We laugh, and he holds up the yellow paper again. "I love this," he mutters. He seems so fond of something I didn't even think twice about.

"I'll…I'll happily take more notes next time."

"Ha! You make it sound like I'm assigning you homework. Come on." He motions for me to follow as he closes up the bar. We make our way inside, past the restaurant and to the lobby. We chat occasionally about my sister's upcoming nuptials. When we arrive at the bookshelf, we exchange phone numbers so we can text— squeal !

Coming over here, I thought I was going to hand him the book and begone; I had no idea I'd be sharing beers with Natie and joining a mini book club with him.

He pulls out a paperback and says, "This is the next one in the series, but I haven't read it yet."

"I d-d-don't wanna spoil."

"True. Hm." He touches his lip as he ponders over the shelf. This pensive Natie reminds me so much of that little guy I had a crush on when I was a preteen. "Ah, how about this one? It's about a shark shifter."

"As long as there's a male-male romance, I'm in."

"Now you're speaking my language, Handyman."

He hands me the book, and he must notice my sour expression, because his smile fades. "P-p-please. Call me Santos."

"Right. Santos. Duh . We're not teenagers anymore." He bops the book on his head, and I giggle.

After taking the book, I smile. "No. We're grown up. And you're definitely all man," I say in a low tone. I look him up and down, and with one last flirty wink, I pocket the book and stride away. I don't miss Natie's stunned silence or the way his cheeks redden.

Yes, maybe I'm shamelessly flirting. But if we're going to be friends, I'm going to make up for lost time. I want Natie to know I'm absolutely interested in cultivating whatever type of close relationship he desires, platonic or more.