The Boyfriend Effect

by Kendall Ryan

  A few trees stand nearby, one carrying more memories than the others. A thick rope swing hangs far across the water, where the sand drops off and the water gets deep and dark. As a kid, I was barely brave enough to swing over the water, refusing to jump off despite Wolfie and Hayes’s jeering. Now, the guys are taking turns, flying over the water, hitting the surface with a splash, and finally coming up for air.

  The sight of them reminds me of when we were all teenagers. Only now, Hayes is taller, more muscular, and even more beautiful than I ever could have imagined he’d become. Despite my best efforts, he’s the man I always compared my past relationships to. And somehow they never measured up. Hayes always made me feel safe. And when I lost my parents . . . he was there for me. I’ve always depended on him. Always wanted more of him.

  A low twinge hits my belly and a shiver runs up my spine. How long have I felt this way about him? How long have I wanted to lick water droplets off his skin?

  Watching him walk ashore again, it’s impossible to tear my gaze away. That wide, sculpted chest. Those bulky forearms that I long to feel around me. The tight ass that presses enticingly against his swim trunks with each deliberate stride. Arousal—hot and insistent—courses through my veins.

  “Hey, girl, why are you just standing there?”

  Scarlett’s voice snaps me back to reality, and I turn to see her looking at me, sunglasses pushed low on her nose.

  “Want to hang with us?” she asks, waving me over.

  My cheeks are still burning, and the throbbing in my core hasn’t subsided one bit. I need to cool off first.

  “After a swim. I’ll be right back.”

  I whip off the oversized T-shirt I’ve used for years as a cover-up, finally allowing the sun to kiss my exposed shoulders and belly. My bathing suit was a clearance find at the local department store. The halter top is black with crocheted teal overlay, complementing my naturally pale skin and cradling my breasts comfortably. The high-waisted bottoms I wear are black, with a teal braided belt around my hips.

  I don’t stop to check if Hayes notices my new suit. Instead, I take off toward the dock and dive in. The water is absolutely freezing, but I don’t care. It’s exactly what I need to cool down.

  Once I’m submerged, my thoughts finally quiet. With each stroke, I distance myself from my worries and insecurities. I’d forgotten how much I love swimming. I wonder if there’s a gym near my apartment that I could—

  Something grasps my foot, startling me, and I pull myself above water, kicking wildly. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!”

  To my complete shock, it’s Hayes, treading water near me. His hair is soaked, tiny droplets falling onto his cheekbones. My heart hammers, and I wish I could say it was just from the shock.

  “What are you doing?” I demand, splashing him.

  “I just wanted to catch up to you before you got too far.” He laughs, splashing me back. “Don’t be mad, dove.”

  One side of his mouth lifts in a crooked smile, and the anger in me melts into something gooey and warm.

  “Aww, were you worried about me, Hayes?” I splash him again, this time more teasingly.

  “Maybe I was.” He eyes me with a hypnotic grin. “Splash me one more time. I dare you.”

  I bite my lip, mock-deliberating my options. With a laugh, I lean back into the water, splashing him repeatedly with the kicking of my feet.

  “Oh, that’s it,” he says, his voice low but playful.

  With that, Hayes tackles me, pulling me down beneath the surface with him. As one of his hands wraps tightly around my ankle, and the other snakes behind my back, I’m suddenly pressed up against him in all sorts of intimate ways. My body reacts before I can think straight, my arms wrapping around those broad shoulders with an urgency I’ve never been able to act on before.

  Maren, don’t give anything away.

  But then, the strangest of things happens. I feel something long and thick hardening against my thigh.

  When we resurface, my arms are still locked around his shoulders, my breasts pressed against his slick, bare chest. Our eyes meet, his whiskey-colored gaze sending a hot rush through me. His fingers squeeze my waist as I’m pressed firmly against his rather impressive erection.

  “Hayes . . .”

  Abruptly, he removes my arms from his neck. Without his support, I tread water again easily, but Hayes doesn’t stick around.

  I rock with the waves of his departure, watching his muscular arms slice through the water as he swims back to the others. He pulls himself up and onto the dock, not pausing even for Holly, who attempts to intercept him on his way back to the house.

  What just happened?

  9

  * * *

  HAYES

  What. The. Actual. Fuck. Bro.

  If I were an emoji, I’d be the screaming face with steam coming out of his ears.

  There was no denying Maren felt my body’s response to hers. And I could tell the second she did. One minute we were splashing around in the water, and the next, her soft curves were pressed up close as her wet skin made contact with mine. Then it was game over. I needed to put as much distance as possible between us, so I fled without another word or a backward glance.

  I stalk up the stairs and slam the door once I’m inside my room.

  My dick still so rock hard, I desperately need to jerk off. I tug open the front of my swim shorts and give myself a warning squeeze. I’m gonna blow way too soon at this rate.

  But an errant thought stops me dead in my tracks.

  What if Wolfie saw me flirting with his sister, and he’s on his way up here right now to confront me? I certainly don’t want him to walk in and see me with my dick in my hand. Talk about being caught red-handed.

  With my knuckles turning white as I grip the edge of the dresser, I hang my head and try to breathe. Abandoning my earlier plan, I lace up my swim shorts and blow out another sigh.

  Wolfie is a cock block, and he doesn’t even fucking know it. Plus, he invited Holly. It’s a testament to how clueless he is about how I feel about his sister that he thought I’d want Holly here.

  Deciding I can’t jack off, I take a deep, calming breath and attempt to give myself a pep talk.

  Just get through tonight. That’s all you have to do.

  This is fucking torture, and I’m not just talking about my body’s physical response to Maren’s. This entire game is torture. The desire to touch her and tease her until she’s smiling . . . I want it all. But I have no other choice than to pretend there’s nothing happening between us.

  Deciding to carry on as though everything is normal, I change into a dry pair of shorts and a T-shirt, then go downstairs and begin preparing food for dinner. When everyone comes back from the water in an hour or two, hungry and slightly tipsy, I’ll have everything ready. Hopefully, the need for food will distract them from asking why I ditched the water.

  I marinate steaks and form ground beef into a dozen burgers. But keeping my hands busy does little to calm my mind. I can’t stop thinking about what Wolfie would say if he knew how I felt. Most likely, he’d scowl at me and cite my awful track record with women as the reason why he’d never support the idea of me and Maren.

  When I’ve sliced limes and added margarita mix to the blender, the screen door opens and the first few of the crew filter inside. Caleb and Connor are bickering about something, while Scarlett and Penelope are talking about which one is going to shower first.

  Holly makes a pleased sound when she sees me working in the kitchen. She was always that way, exuberant about the smallest things. After she steals a handful of potato chips, she thankfully disappears upstairs.

  I keep my eyes downcast on my task so I don’t have to look at Maren right now. I have maybe an hour, tops, until everyone remerges freshly showered and no longer sandy, and then I’ll have no choice but to face her. And I have no idea how to apologize for what happened in the water.

  “You okay?” a husky voice asks from behind me.
/>   I turn and see Wolfie, his expression impassive. While that’s not abnormal for him, part of me wishes he were smiling, that he’d give me some signal to let me know we’re okay and that he’s not secretly planning my demise. But that’s not Wolfie, and I can’t expect him to change his stripes just to appease my fragile ego.

  “Yeah,” I lie. “Fine. Just thought I’d make myself useful.”

  I’m stiff and can’t meet his eyes, but Wolfie doesn’t call me on my bullshit. Instead, he just nods.

  It’s tradition for me to grill our first night here, so this isn’t out of the ordinary. Me spending all of fifteen minutes at the beach, however, is unheard of.

  But Wolfie doesn’t call me on it, and for that I’m grateful. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep lying to him, but I have to. I have to act normal and try to carry on, have to laugh with my friends. And most importantly, I have to keep my eyes off Maren’s tits in her bikini top.

  To be honest, I’m not sure how it’s possible that Wolfie doesn’t know. I feel like every emotion and bolt of lust I have about Maren must be written all over my face.

  It turns out, grilling for everyone is the perfect thing to do with my hands since they can’t be used for the thing I most desire—groping Maren’s curves. When the food is done, everyone grabs a plate and lines up at the grill on the back deck. Donning a spatula and a smile, I serve up the food. All I’m missing is a chef’s hat and apron.

  Maren is one of the last through the line, and when I place the portabella mushroom burger I made just for her onto her plate, she smiles, and I notice how soft her eyes are as she looks at me.

  “Thanks, Hayes.”

  “Of course.” I nod once.

  She doesn’t budge. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  She shifts, looking uncertain. “If I did something wrong back at the beach . . .”

  “You didn’t,” I say quickly. “I’m sorry I ran off like that.” I look down, flipping a burger that doesn’t need turning, just so I have something to do with my hands.

  “So, you’re not mad at me?” she asks, her voice low.

  A pang of guilt zings through me. “No, of course not.”

  The last thing I wanted to do was make her feel bad. None of this is her fault.

  Before I can figure out how to articulate any of that, Holly appears out of nowhere.

  “Can I talk to you?” She meets my eyes with a serious expression.

  I open my mouth to reply, but Maren is ducking away with her food, heading off to join her brother and Penelope at the picnic table situated on the lawn under a cluster of birch trees.

  “Sure,” I say, grabbing a plate for myself.

  “Somewhere private,” Holly adds.

  With renewed patience, I turn off the gas to the grill and carry my plate, following Holly around the side of the house. She stops to lean on the porch railing, setting her plate aside.

  “If my being here is a distraction, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any problems.”

  “It’s fine, Holly. I just . . .” I release a slow breath. “A heads-up would have been nice.”

  I haven’t seen or spoken to Holly in more than six months. Once upon a time, we filled a void in each other’s lives. But that was a long time ago. Our chemistry was good . . . until it wasn’t.

  Holly made it clear she wasn’t interested in settling down and popping out a few kids. Which was fine, at first. But when I realized our goals were never going to align, I lost interest. She was fun and easy to be with, but I knew I wanted more than just a good time.

  Eventually, I wanted a real commitment. A family. And that just wasn’t Holly. But I couldn’t blame her for that. She knew what she wanted and was honest about it.

  But coming here today at Wolfie’s merest suggestion? It’s typical Holly, always down for a good time. Maybe she thought I’d be single and horny, and we could just pick up right where we left off.

  Hell, maybe that’s why Wolfie invited her, thinking I needed to take the edge off with some casual sex. Too bad that’s the last thing I need right now. I need to focus, and not be thinking with my dick. Especially since it seems intent in getting me in trouble.

  Holly nods. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  I set my plate down beside hers and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Can we just not do this?”

  With a manicured hand on her hip, she gives me a pointed look. “Calm down, Hayes. I’m not trying to start something that you’re not into.”

  I inhale and nod. “Good.”

  She laughs and shakes her head at me. “Way to dodge the question.”

  “I’m single right now, and that’s the way I want it to stay.”

  “Understood.” She smiles at me. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

  My expression stays blank while Holly continues grinning.

  Fucking Holly. I don’t want her getting any ideas about us. This is the last goddamn thing I need right now.

  Ignoring the I’m down to fuck if you are gleam in her eyes, I grab my plate. With one last nod in her direction, I stalk away to find someplace quiet to eat.

  Miraculously, I manage to successfully avoid Maren for the next few hours.

  When she’s inside with Scarlett and Penelope tackling the dishes, I’m outside starting the bonfire. When she’s lying in the hammock on the porch with a book, I’m upstairs taking a shower.

  Now I’m sitting outside in a lawn chair near the fire with a cold beer.

  “Nice job on the fire,” Scarlett says, rubbing her hands together as she leans closer to the warm glow. Chairs are scattered in a circle, around the fire and everyone is here except for Maren. I have no idea where she is or why she hasn’t joined us.

  Holly is sitting directly across from me, her eyes daring me to come over there and ravage her. Not fucking likely.

  Connor and Wolfie are bickering about whose cannonball into the lake was more epic, and I’ve just started to feel settled when Maren joins the bonfire.

  She glances around, quickly noticing that all the chairs are occupied. Then she looks my way and moves closer. “Is this seat taken?”

  I’m about to get up and offer her my chair when Maren casually plops down in my lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Although for Maren, maybe it is normal, because she’s always been a touchy-feeling type of person. For me, the feeling is . . . unsettling, because I can never seem to wrangle my body under control with her this close.

  I mutter something inarticulate as she proceeds to use me as a chair. Wolfie grumbles something under his breath, and I stare into the fire, trying to focus on anything but the way she feels in my lap.

  For a moment, I think that I can do this, but the soft weight of her ass pressing into my groin quickly becomes too much. The scent of her shampoo makes my heart rate accelerate, and my body starts to respond. My cock swells, and I’m sure Maren’s about to notice.

  When I shift her weight, she meets my eyes, and I can’t help but notice the challenge in her expression. It’s the same feeling that I got when she came to visit the store. We share a silent moment, neither of us looking away. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me, so why isn’t she moving away?

  I’m so distracted and on edge that I can barely focus on the conversations happening around us.

  After a little while, a couple of people wander off, ready for bed, and pretty soon, only a few of us are left.

  “I think I’m going to turn in,” I say.

  Maren rises from my lap and gives Wolfie a hug good night. “Me too,” she says, giving me a heated look.

  I grab the empty beer bottle from beside my chair and give Wolfie and Connor a fist bump. “You guys will make sure the fire’s out?”

  Connor nods. “We got you.”

  I wish I could douse my raging attraction to Maren the same way they’ll douse the fire.

  “Thanks for grilling,” Wolfie says.

  “My pleasure. Nigh
t, guys.”

  Maren is already heading up the steps and into the house. I follow her, but linger in the kitchen while she climbs the stairs to the bedrooms. The last thing I need right now after that sexually charged bonfire encounter is an awkward hallway run-in with her.

  After several minutes, I finally make my way upstairs and pause at the top. The door to Holly and Maren’s shared bedroom is closed, but so is the bathroom door, light escaping from under it. I hear the water running and guess it’s Maren brushing her teeth.

  Inside my bedroom, I strip out of the clothes that now smell like a campfire and quickly rinse off in the shower. After putting on a clean pair of boxer shorts, I pull back the blankets and climb into bed.

  When it’s finally quiet and I’m sinking deep into the mattress, I realize something is very, very wrong. The sound of feminine moaning is coming from the bedroom next door, and it’s loud. Really loud.

  What the fuck?

  I know that voice. It’s Holly, and she sounds like she’s really enjoying herself, maybe even a little too much. But with who?

  I climb out of bed and venture out into the hallway to investigate. But when I open the door, I stop short because Maren is standing there, looking as confused as I feel, dressed only in a T-shirt that barely covers her panties.

  The moans turn to pants, then screams.

  My wide eyes meet Maren’s. “Is that . . .”

  “Holly,” she says.

  “But with who?”

  “I was in the bathroom when it started. I figured you went in there.” Her voice is soft, almost tentative, and she drops her gaze to the floor.

  “God, no. I have no interest in her.”

  Maren’s posture changes, her back straightening. It draws up the T-shirt an inch higher, so I can see the front of her panties now. They’re soft white cotton. I want to peel them off her with my teeth.

  “Well, if you’re not in there, who is?”