Summer Indiscretions

by Tamara Mataya

  Ariella is in more pictures than anyone, other than Shelby herself. She must be her best friend.

  The others are sprinkled through many of the pictures with Shelby, alone or in groups.

  I shake my head and hop in the shower.

  Getting to know them—and getting to know Shelby through them—is too tempting an opportunity to pass up.

  This carefree woman so unlike myself has an open life filled with friends and adventures. I want to taste that a little, to know what it’s like. And I want to know if playing Cards Against Humanity is as much fun with strangers as it looks.

  Wallowing in what I may or may not be feeling for Blake can wait.

  Chapter 18

  Blake

  I don’t know if it’s the endorphins or if I’m just really excited to see her, but I wake up early the next morning, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like someone’s flipped a switch.

  Maybe having spent the whole night sleeping instead of making love to Mel has something to do with it. It was good for us to take a break for a night. My muscles feel better after a full night’s sleep. But maybe it’s like the saying, and absence makes the heart grow fonder. Either way, my batteries are fully charged—and I can’t wait to see her again. I was disappointed that she wanted some alone time last night, but that will make it all the better when we’re together again.

  It’s my last full day in Miami, and I want to spend as much time with Mel as possible.

  I shower and dress, but it’s still only nine thirty-seven when I finish. Screw it. She can’t be mad if I show up with coffee and something sweet for breakfast—or a good-morning snuggle. Or a really good-morning snuggle-fuck. I get turned on just picturing sliding into bed with her, her sleep-warmed body nestling against me. Her eyes will flutter open with surprise and then happiness that I’m there. Her lips will part, and I’ll kiss her as she spreads her legs and wordlessly encourages me to climb on top.

  And after, we’ll talk about what happens when we get back home. I’m ready to dive in face-first, hands first with Mel, despite how it might turn out. I can’t think about bad things that might not happen. What we have could be forever.

  I hurry down to the lobby and grab a couple coffees from a place the guy at the front desk recommended. They also sell pastries, and unsure of her favorites, I grab half a dozen different ones before hopping into the first cab I find and heading for Mel’s.

  We’re not out in the wilderness, but there’s something so open and wild about seeing this much blue sky at once. It’s almost oppressive, but I’m growing to really love it—not that I don’t miss the way the crush of buildings in New York feels private, blocking all but your little corner from the skyline.

  You can see forever here.

  She doesn’t answer when I knock. I laugh. Being spontaneous with Mel is something I should choreograph. Where did she go?

  On impulse, I wiggle the doorknob. The door’s unlocked when I try it, which isn’t like Mel. Safety conscious and anal retentive, she wouldn’t leave it open. I lock the door behind me and set the coffees and breakfast on the counter, swiftly checking the living room and bathroom for signs of trouble. Nothing. Did she fall asleep with the door unlocked?

  The bedroom door is open a crack, but no light shines through the opening. She must have drawn the curtains to sleep in. I push the door open and stride into the bedroom. She’s under the blanket, curled into a tight ball with her back to me, nestling in just like I pictured.

  I toe my shoes off, ease the blanket up enough to slip under, and spoon her. “Morning, gorgeous.” I pull the covers down to give her a kiss and come face-to-face with a bearded twentysomething blond man. What the fuck?

  He blinks and yawns. “Sorry, bro. I’m taken.”

  What the fuck is a strange guy doing in Mel’s bed? “Jesus.” I sit up, stunned, just as the lights go on and two feminine voices giggle by the door.

  Mel and a pretty, athletic black woman clutch each other with the hands not holding coffees.

  I stand and put my shoes on. “It’s really not that funny.”

  Mel clears her throat. “I mean, we can come back later, if you and Andrew need a minute to yourselves.”

  I don’t even care about the strangers in the room. Mel’s presence fills me, and I walk to her and wrap her in a hug. “Maybe he and I will take a minute to ourselves. He’s pretty cute.”

  “Beards are very in,” Andrew says, voice still husky with sleep. “Aww, is that coffee for me, Ari?”

  The other woman hands him his coffee before turning and offering her hand. “I’m Ariella, Shelby’s friend. That bearded ego-patch is Andrew, also friends with Shelby.”

  I shake her hand. “Nice to meet you. I brought coffees over for Mel—only the two, but it looks like you got some already.”

  Mel nods. “We grabbed some. We were going to deal with breakfast later.”

  “I brought some pastries too.”

  Ariella grins at Mel. “Your boyfriend’s pretty awesome.”

  Mel blushes. “He is.”

  The fact she doesn’t correct Ariella makes me want to grin like an idiot. “Maybe we should give Andrew a second,” I say. I’m pretty sure he was naked under that blanket.

  “Appreciate it,” Andrew says. “I don’t want to be the only one wearing a toga.”

  The women and I head to the kitchen and paw through the bag. We select a pastry each and dig in; a fully dressed Andrew joins us a moment later.

  “Thanks for breakfast, man,” he says. “These hit the spot.”

  “You’re welcome. You’re Shelby’s friends?”

  Ariella wipes some icing from her lips. “Yeah, we sort of crashed the place before realizing Shelby wasn’t here. But Mel was gracious enough to let us stay over.”

  “It was certainly a surprise to come home to strangers in the living room.” Mel smiles and licks glaze from the pad of her thumb.

  She’s so cool with it. Another layer of tension has peeled away from her—but maybe it’s not parts peeling away. Maybe she was this gorgeous flower that was scared to bloom and tried to hide its beauty by staying as tightly closed as it could. Now she’s letting herself relax and unfold. She’s blossoming.

  She’s radiant.

  “Did you guys have plans? We can get out of your hair if we’re intruding.” Ariella stands from her casual lean against the counter. “We did just show up out of nowhere, and—”

  “I’m crashing this morning too,” I say, waving my hand dismissively.

  “Hey, do you see me kicking anyone out?” Mel smiles. “The others had reservations for diving or you could have met them too, Blake. Why don’t we all go to the beach? Soak up as much of that vitamin D as we can?”

  Andrew and Ariella share a glance and nod at the same time.

  “I didn’t bring a suit, but I can borrow one from Shelby.” Ariella finishes her coffee.

  “Or, you could go without a suit. Clothing optional beach, babe.” Andrew winks at her and she slaps his chest.

  “You know I could never do that! What about you, big guy?”

  Andrew grimaces. “Nude beaches are sexier for women. When your parts get cold, they tighten up, get more interesting. When our parts get cold, they try to crawl up our asses to keep warm and we look like Ken dolls.”

  My gaze cuts to Mel, who’s trying to suppress her surprise by chewing on the inside of her cheek the way she always does. She’s thinking about how she did it, and she’s shocked someone as outgoing as Ariella obviously hasn’t. Mel constantly underestimates herself. Or, she used to. The image of her that first day I saw her on the beach pops into my mind.

  Mel’s skin, glowing in the sun, water glistening off every plane and curve. The way she confidently strode out of the water, not worrying about who was looking.

  A dip in some cold water would be great for me right a
bout now.

  “I think the beach sounds awesome.” And I’m already wearing shorts.

  Mel turns to Ariella. “I’ll grab some towels, if you want to pack some drinks. You know where everything is better than I do.”

  “I’ll take care of the drinks. You go get a bathing suit,” Andrew says to Ariella.

  Later, we make our way to the beach, which is quieter this time of day. “Does it always rain in the afternoon?” I ask.

  Ariella nods. “Pretty much. They’re our summer rainstorms. Clouds roll in for about twenty minutes, shake everything up, and then disappear. It’s good, really, or it would be sweltering. Isn’t New York hot in the summer too?”

  Mel makes a face. “You’d think the buildings would give shade and at least trick you into thinking it’s cooler. But they trap the air between them like an oven. Haven’t you ever been to New York?”

  Ariella sighs. “My travels have taken me mostly to Australia—and that obligatory backpacking trip around Europe when I was nineteen.”

  “Any highlights?”

  Andrew laughs. “Bulgaria was way too much fun.”

  I find that surprising. “Really? You don’t hear about it being a barrel of laughs.”

  Mel nods. “I would have thought Amsterdam or Ibiza—the usual suspects, but not Bulgaria.”

  Ariella wags her eyebrows. “Sunny Beach. More debauchery than you can shake your tits at.”

  Andrew laughs. “It’s like the G8, if the G8 were made up of spring breakers from all over Europe. Lots of people from the UK.”

  “Huh.” Mel whips out her phone and sends off a text. “That would make a good article too—unexpectedly sexy vacation hot spots.”

  “Who are you texting?” Ariella asks.

  “My boss,” Mel replies.

  “You’re a writer?”

  Mel shakes her head. “I think I’d like to become one, but no. I’m in HR.”

  Ariella scrunches her nose. “I never would have guessed that. You’re too much fun. Ever think of switching to writing as well?”

  Mel huffs out a small laugh but looks pleased. “It’s never really come up.” She bites her lip. “But I don’t think I’d total hate it. I get a lot of ideas for things…and there are more people to interact with in Editorial. And I feel like I’ve gone as far as I can go in my current area—there’s nothing left to strive for. If I were in Editorial, there would be more to do.”

  “Why don’t you go for it when you get back?” I ask.

  She smiles. “Maybe I will.”

  We pick a prime place and spread out our towels. The heat and sun have been beating out the clouds, kicking the temperature up a few notches. I peel off my shirt and lie back, ready to soak up some rays.

  Mel clears her throat. “Uh, forgetting something?”

  I squint up at Mel. “What?”

  She wiggles a bottle of sunscreen at me, and I sit up and hold out a hand. She squirts the piña colada–scented lotion into my hands, and I spread it on my arms and shoulders and down my chest and torso.

  “I’ll get your back,” she says.

  I lean forward and accept her offer, feeling way too content about the way her hands move across my skin—even in that innocuous way. “Thanks.” I squint at Andrew and Ariella, wishing I’d brought sunglasses. “So, was Shelby with you in Europe?”

  “Yup.” Ariella opens the oversize umbrella, angling it so we’re all partially shaded. “It was her idea. She works in the surf shop here and meets a lot of people—not that she needs an excuse. If Shelby wants to meet you, you’re going to be shaking her hand at some point.” She sits on the towel Andrew spread for her and settles beside Mel. “She met a tattoo artist who’d just gotten back from Sunny Beach and was raving about the amazing time he had. He’s her go-to tattoo guy, now.”

  “She has tattoos?” Mel asks. “I didn’t see any in the pictures on her wall. She must have a lot if she’s got a regular artist.”

  “Yup. She has some work on her feet and a dolphin on the back of her neck.”

  Mel squints out at the ocean. “Yeah, her pics didn’t show her back.” She laughs. “That makes me sound like a stalker. I swear I’m not. But you know the mural in her room, and I was dying of curiosity about the person whose house I’m staying in.”

  “Suuuure,” Andrew drawls, obviously kidding. Then he switches gears. “You don’t have any tattoos?”

  Mel shakes her head. “Not yet.”

  Not yet? Interesting. Maybe Mel’s loosening up even more than I thought.

  Chapter 19

  Melanie

  I lie back and fold my arms behind my head, sandwiched between Ari and Blake and feeling lazier by the second in the heat. “I’d love to travel more. You guys traveled around Europe a lot together? Which place was your favorite?

  Blake lies back beside me. Ariella slathers sunscreen on her legs. “Berlin. It’s beautiful—there’s artwork everywhere, and the people are so edgy and cool without even trying. If you had access to their closets and a month to put something together, you still couldn’t look as effortlessly hip as them.”

  “And the food…” Andrew groans. “A little of everything, and it’s all done so well. We need to go back there so I can violate my diet. I gained twelve pounds last time, and I think I can double that with a little effort.”

  “Definitely,” Ariella affirms. “The food, the music, the art… It’s a place where diversities crash together into something bright and bold and way different than here. It’s unique. I stayed there for two months, and then Andrew and I went back for a three-week vacation two years ago.”

  “I needed two years to recover.” Andrew rolls onto his elbow and grins down at Ari. “Remember that reggae bar on Oranienburger?”

  Ariella lifts her sunglasses, revealing serious eyes that she fixes on Blake and me. “That bar was amazing. The street’s kind of touristy but worth it. Covered with hookers—it’s legal there—but the club scene is second to none. We danced on a rooftop bar until pink streaked through the sky. We only stopped dancing because we needed breakfast.”

  “Did Shelby go there with you?”

  Ariella flips onto her stomach. “No, but we want to go there together at some point. The coolest thing about her is that she’s the least pretentious person I know. She comes from money, but she doesn’t act like anything’s beneath her. You’ve seen her apartment—it’s lush. There’s no way someone scraping by on minimum wage could afford that. But she could afford nicer. She just doesn’t give a shit about that. Where you come from doesn’t matter as much to her as who you are. People are drawn to that. Hell, I’m drawn to that. I see a little of that in you, Mel.”

  Having Ariella compare me to her best friend in such a positive way warms my heart. “I don’t think so. I wish I were more like Shelby. She seems so adventurous and free—my total opposite.”

  Ariella snorts. “Says the woman doing the same thing Shelby is. You’re just as adventurous as she is. Maybe you haven’t had as much of a chance to explore that, but the fact is, the similarities are there. Birds of a feather, Mel. They find each other and flock out—”

  “With their cocks out,” I finish with a throaty laugh. “We are on a nude beach, after all.”

  “No one’s getting their cocks out,” Andrew says.

  I look at Blake out the corner of my eye. It’s probably a good thing since I already have trouble with self-control where he’s concerned.

  He slips his palm against mine and laces our fingers together.

  How can holding someone’s hand reduce your awareness to only the places where your skin touches theirs—and all the jealous places on your body where they aren’t touching? My world throbs with Blake for a moment, and I like it.

  My words dry up with the contact and the sun. It’s nice. Sweltering and muggy, but nice.

  Arie
lla’s breathing evens out, and I sigh, contented. For a while we doze, soaking in the rays without talking much. But soon the tension coiling through me like a flattened spring gets to be too much and I need to expend that energy, so we all go for a walk.

  One by one, everyone breaks off from the group until I’m alone but can still see them, content to dip my toes in the ocean for a little coolness. Andrew decided to go surfing. Ariella and Blake are tossing a football back and forth, a free show of athleticism. Ariella has a killer spiral, but no matter how she tries to trip Blake up, he catches everything easily and returns it.

  I’d give it the old college try, but football isn’t in my wheelhouse. Besides, I’d rather watch Blake while he’s not watching me.

  More people mill about, but it’s slower, maybe because it’s midafternoon on a Wednesday, and now I get what oppressive heat really is. Fan yourself all you want, but you’re still going to be covered with a thin sheen of sweat. The heat also slows your thoughts to a syrupy pace so everything seems suspended. You can’t quite focus, but you also can’t move very quickly from one thought to another. Right now, I’m dwelling on the fact that it’s Blake’s last day—and I’ll be following him home soon.

  I’m not quite ready to leave this place. Things will change when we get back. It’s strange to think of people living daily lives in paradise, but I guess everywhere is a paradise to someone. It’s all about perspective. Some people would give anything to live in my tiny apartment and work in publishing like I do. Kids dream of packing up their things and heading for the Big Apple.

  If you can make it there…

  The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, but honestly, I love New York and I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I think this much blue sky would crush me. The people are friendly, but everything moves at a slower pace. Maybe it’s the heat. Maybe it’s the retirees. Maybe it’s just that there’s concrete in my blood and I miss the bustle and speed of NYC.