We’re all lost in the delicious mesmerizing flavors of our food for a few minutes. Alex appears to be in a race to see if he can lick his plate clean the fastest. He manages to take a breath in the middle of inhaling a bite and lets out a big whistle. “Look who just came sauntering in, all by his gorgeous self. Mm, mm, mm. That boy is heaven on legs.”
I glance over to see who he’s referring to and almost choke on my glorious mouthful of Zeus burger. “Oh por puck sakes. Bhat’s he booing here?” I hiss out between burger bits. If he’s here to see Alex, I don’t want to be here to witness it. I can’t think about Dak with Alex.
Or is it the thought of Dak with anyone else you can’t think about.
No. It’s not. Why should I care? I hate him.
“Probably came in to grab a bite to eat. What else? Right, Nikki?” Alex shifts in his seat.
“Undoubtedly. What else?” Nikki asks in this sarcastic tone.
I glare at Alex. “What’s going on? What are you up to?”
“No idea what you’re talking about.” Alex puts a hand to his chest and does his best imitation of shock. “We’re here enjoying a nice meal with our new friend. What could we possibly be up to?”
“Not we. You,” Nikki mumbles into her beer glass. “What could you possibly be up to?” She glowers at Alex over her glass.
“We’ve got to go. Right, Nik?” Alex swallows the rest of his beer.
“Leave? But I haven’t…” Nikki appears to be as puzzled as I am. I guess she’s not in on Alex’s shenanigans, whatever they are.
“Yes, Nikki. Remember? We’ve got…um…shit to study.” Alex throws some money down on the table and slides out of the booth.
“Leave? What are you talking about? Even though you’ve become a member of the Olympic speed eating team, I haven’t finished. And you haven’t even gotten your beer order yet,” I protest.
Isn’t he supposed to be the one interested in Dak?
“The beer’s all yours. We forgot we’ve got…you know, like, schoolwork.” Alex is a bad liar and Nikki doesn’t seem to be too happy to join in on his little plan. “You can take your time to finish. Enjoy yourself. Come on, Nik,” he persists, one hand planted on his hip.
“Yeah. Okay. Fine. Coming, Match.com.” Nikki gulps the last of her beer and slides out of the booth with a reluctant sigh.
“Shit to study? You two aren’t even in a class together. What are you—”
“Hey, Bambi. Just the person I want to see.” Dak steps around Alex and Nikki. “Hey, Nik. What’s up, Alex?” He flicks his chin at the scheming Alex and his reluctant co-conspirator.
“He calls her Bambi. Isn’t it adorbs? Nothing’s up at the moment, Dakota. Expect that to change soon though.” Alex grins and winks at me.
How many years would I get for strangling a fellow figure skater?
“You’re just in time to keep Trace company. Nikki and I are off to go study something,” Alex says.
“Oh, yeah. They’re off to study shit for the class they don’t have together.” I smirk and flutter my eyelashes at the two traitors. “Oh, by the way Alex, remind me next time I go out for a dive in the tropics to bring you back a beautiful sea urchin as a pet,” I say in a sugary voice.
Dak tries to interject. “Uh, Trace, sea urchins are poisonous and you can’t—”
“Mind your own business, Dak. A poisonous urchin would be the perfect pet for this guy.” I glare at Alex.
“Girl, bye.” Alex waves me off and gives me a I’m-so-pleased-with-myself expression. Nikki, on the other hand, shrugs and gives me a sheepish, so-sorry look as they both make their way out the door. I’m totally confused. I thought Dak and Alex were into each other. I don’t understand anything anymore.
CHAPTER NINE
Dak
“Have fun you two,” Alex calls to us before the door closes behind him and Nikki.
When he sent me a text to meet him at the Thirsty Whale, I knew something was up because he’s never asked to meet me before. I thought it had something to do with his getting together with Erik, and after a weight training session at the gym with the guys, I was starving and a little curious, so I agreed to meet him. If he’d mentioned Trace was going to be here, I would have shown up an hour ago and waited for them like some lovesick fanboy. The mixed-up, inexplicable thoughts of her are completely screwing with my ability to enjoy any other girl. I need to figure out what’s going on with her and me, or, since there is no her and me, at least with my overzealous interest in her.
Even though I told him I wasn’t interested, it looks like Alex is up to some shifty, matchmaking tricks after all, although I’m not as ticked off by the idea as Trace appears to be. From the scowl on her face and her suggestion of offing him, I don’t think she’s too happy about Alex’s antics.
Doesn’t matter. Aside from the temperature-rising thoughts of her which keep filling my mind, a deal is a deal and we need to get this project done whether she wants to study with me or not. If it takes Alex to get us together in the same room, I’ll take what I can get.
Professor Clancy gave us the assignment last Friday to go out in the research vessel and collect phytoplankton samples to bring back to the lab for analysis. It’s research we’re both going to need for our theses topics. My topic involves plankton calcification under rising carbon dioxide scenarios; in other words, changes caused by ocean acidification. It’s similar to Trace’s topic, which means we’re going to need a lot of the same info. The problem is, it’s been a week since Clancy gave us the assignment, with two weeks to get out there, collect samples, do our lab analysis, and submit our results, and even though Trace and I made a deal for her to help me study if I skate with her in the Winter Fest, she’s avoiding me like the plague.
She keeps making excuses. Something about another paper she has to finish and then something about a kayak tour she has to take out on Saturday, and on and on the excuses flow.
The truth is, I’m not too excited about the venture either. The combo of a girl and me in a boat has me kind of jittery. Good thing the research boats aren’t small vessels. Since they accommodate all the equipment, they need to be at least thirty feet. The research work is important for both of us, but since the accident with Abbey three years ago, taking a small boat out isn’t something I’m prepared to do. I’m feeling comfortable nothing short of a major hurricane is going to flip a boat the size of the Arctic Tern. The good news is, major hurricanes are unusual for Maine. But if we do happen to get heavy winds, they’re just enough to make for some interesting swell for surfing along the Portland coast, not enough to cause an Into the Storm type of catastrophe.
It’s completely weird. I can enter the back door of a barrel and ride it without a blink of the eye, or smash a two-hundred thirty pound defenseman against the boards without hesitation, but the thought of rowing in a canoe has me trembling like an abandoned kitten. Canoeing, kayaking, and playing hockey used to be my favorite things to do in my free time, besides surfing and making love to Abbey, until that fateful day. I haven’t climbed into a canoe or kayak since.
The thing is, whatever size the boats are for class research, I need to grow a pair and do it. Got to get my work done for this Bio class and there’s only a week left to hand in our first assignment.
“What are you doing here?” Trace’s seething comment brings me out of my thoughts.
“Mind if I join you?” Not waiting for an answer, I slide into the bench seat opposite her.
“Sure. Why not? Have a seat. Oh wait. You already did.” She breathes out through her nose and purses her lips.
A cute waitress comes by and puts two beers on the table.
“How thoughtful of you, Bambi.” I grin. “You ordered me a beer.”
“I didn’t. They were—”
“Anything else?” the curvy blonde waitress inquires with a smile and flutter of her lashes.
“Sure. I’ll have what she’s having. I hear the burgers are intense.”
“They�
�re amazing,” the waitress, in a tit revealing tank top, confirms with another smile and flutter of her overworked lashes. Her hungry gaze has me wondering if she’s referring to the burgers.
A couple of weeks ago I would have jumped all over her obvious invitation. Now, the unexpected object of all my desires is sitting across the table scowling at me. The waitress lingers for a long moment.
“That’s it for now, thanks,” Trace says flatly.
“Be right back,” the waitress says without looking at Trace, but gives me another ravenous up and down scan before hurrying off to place my order.
Glaring after her, Trace tilts her head in annoyance. “Seriously?”
“What?”
“Since you joined me without my invitation, do you think you could put away your slutty charm for five minutes?”
“I’m just sitting here. I didn’t do anything,” I protest, but since I’m doing it with a big grin on my face while stealing one of her fries I don’t think she’s buying my innocent routine.
“Wait for your own food,” she snaps and moves her dish away from my reach.
“I’m a growing boy, Bambi. I need sustenance from you now.” I run my tongue over my lips to affirm my double meaning, and since she’s snorting air through her nose like a bull ready to attack, I think she gets it. I can’t help it. It’s so easy to get her riled and I get hard watching the fury flame in her eyes every time I push her buttons.
“You’re such a pig.” She rolls her eyes.
“You know, you should stop calling me names. You’re giving me a complex,” I quip and reach for another fry. She tries to smack my hand away, but I’m too quick and manage to steal another two fries from her plate.
“What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” she asks again. “Did you come in just to steal my dinner and give me indigestion in the process?”
“No. Alex invited me.” I sit back in my seat, arms crossed over my chest, and give her a smug grin.
“Oh, Alex invited you,” she drawls out and crosses her arms over her chest to mimic my pose, only her chest is way more interesting than mine. I can’t keep my gaze from dropping to follow her movement.
“And he was so happy to see you. I wonder why he isn’t here giving you sustenance? And by the way, my eyes are getting jealous.” She waves her hand in front of my face and then in front of her eyes to indicate where I should be looking. “They would love it if you would look up here at them.”
“Huh? Oh. Sorry. I was admiring your shirt.” It’s not a total lie. I love all her Save the Ocean inspired t-shirts, and the way she fills them out.
“Right. So why are you here?”
Before I can respond, the waitress comes back to our table with my burger and another plate piled high with fries.
“What the hell? The rest of us didn’t get a separate plate with all those fries,” Trace protests in sheer disgust.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything else?” the persistent waitress asks in a breathy tone without acknowledging Trace.
“No. Thanks. That’s it for now.” I smile, enough to be polite, not enough to be encouraging.
“Okay. Well my name is Ginger. If you need anything, anything at all, just give me a call.” She bends over to take an empty beer glass from the table and almost shoves her full tits in my mouth before wiggling her ass away. Normally my cock would have insisted I follow that action. Now the only thing he wants is the spirited chick glaring at me from across the table.
“Oh for fuck sakes. She just put women’s rights back a hundred years. Would it be too much to ask for you to stop eye fucking other girls while you’re sitting with me?”
Wow. I know I hold a special ability to irritate her, but she’s beyond pissed right now. Methinks the lady doth protesteth a little too mucheth. Do I detect a Trace of jealousy?
“Would you prefer I eye fuck you? Because I would be more than happy to.”
“I would prefer you leave me alone.” She throws her napkin on the table and starts to slide out of the booth.
I grab her hand to keep her from getting up, and for a second she doesn’t pull her hand away. “Sorry. I’m just messing with you. I swear I wasn’t flirting with that chick. I would never do that while sitting with you.”
“No. I suppose there’s plenty of time when you’re not with me.” She gives me a smug look and pulls her hand from mine.
“Um…well…” I’m not about to tell her I haven’t even glanced at another girl since I crashed into her. That is, since she crashed into me, because the only one my dick wants these days is her.
“Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Got to go. Schoolwork to do,” she says, and I swear a shadow of sadness, which matches her curt, disappointed tone, fills her eyes. Now I feel like a complete douche. I love messing with her, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings.
“I’m sorry. Don’t be mad. I’m not interested in that girl. I only want to set up a time to get together to do our research project. There’s one more week to get it done. What do you say we get together this weekend?”
“Yeah, the research project. Okay.” She sighs. “Put your number in my phone and I’ll text you a time that works for me.”
This side of Trace is a far cry from the confrontational side she’s been showing me. I type my contact info into her phone, entering my name as Jackass, then slide the phone back to her. I figure it will give her a laugh. But she doesn’t look at it before getting up and shoving it into the back pocket of her jeans. She stands there without saying a word.
The expression on her face has my chest hurting. My childish behavior can’t be the reason for the level of pain I see in her eyes. It’s something much deeper than what passed between us.
Sure. I wouldn’t call our interactions the most pleasant since we met, but I hate seeing her like this. While the strangest urge to wrap my arms around her and comfort her sweeps over me, she might kick me in the balls if I try to touch her. And since I like my balls and want to keep them intact I only say, “I’ll be waiting for your text to find out what time you want to get together.”
“Okay. See ya.” No sarcastic remark, no name-calling, no nasty glare. Just “see ya” and she turns to leave.
“Trace,” I call after her. She glances back at me. “I’m sorry,” I offer again, because I don’t know what else to say to make it better.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. It’s not your problem.” She sighs again and heads for the door.
This unusual girl has seeped into every pore of my skin and if she has a problem, I think I want to help her fix it.
CHAPTER TEN
Dak
Trying to organize my notes and put a thought together while all this commotion is going on in the house is like trying to organize the Florida Keys after Irma. Another Friday night keg party is in full swing and the house is rocking. There’s no way I’m getting any studying done here tonight.
And this stuff has to get done before we can get out on the water and finish our research, if we ever get out on the water, because there’s been no word from Trace. I thought about going to the library, then the brilliant idea occurs to me that since she isn’t at the party, I’ll walk over to her house and see if she’s home. It’s an uninvited visit, but it doesn’t look like she plans on extending a welcome anytime soon or even text me to set up our research time. Inviting myself over is the only alternative.
I push through the crowded living room, giving friendly smiles to the ladies vying for my attention, avoiding any further contact than the casual grin. There’re plenty of other hockey dudes here tonight to fulfill their fantasies. Speaking of which, I also want to avoid all the guys. I’m not in the mood to face the million questions about what I’m doing going over to a chick’s house to study, especially on a Friday night. They wouldn’t believe me even if I told them Trace is my lab partner and nothing else is going on. They’re kinda working with one-track minds when it comes to chicks. Don’t judge them too harshly. They’re hockey players.<
br />
I make a stealthy exit out the side door. The only thing I can think about right now is getting my Marine Bio work done, and getting it done with Trace. Not only because I’m lusting after her like a fool, but because we’ve got to get this assignment done. For real. My main concern is the assignment. Sort of.
As I step up to Trace’s door, I can hear soft music coming from inside the house. It’s something classical. This girl is all kinds of different. Good different. I like the soothing music. Although, I don’t even know who lives here besides Trace. She could have a roommate who likes classical music. Or she might live with her boyfriend who likes classical music. My chest tightens at the thought.
I knock tentatively. No answer. I knock a little harder and hear the muffled steps of someone moving to the door. Trace opens the door and gives me a startled, wide-eyed look. One glimpse of her and all the air punches out of my lungs.
Her dark auburn hair is tied up in ponytails on either side of her head. She’s wearing shorts so short I’m sure they can’t be covering the cheeks of her ass, and the tight white tank top with no bra underneath, which reads Save A Wave Ride A Surfer leaves her lush, round tits on full display. The best part is the orange and pink striped knee socks she’s rocking. Fuck. She looks like a porno kitten version of Pippy Longstocking and my cock is enjoying the vision.
“Oh. It’s you,” she says flatly. Not exactly a heartwarming greeting, but when she tilts her head to one side, causing both of her side ponytails to sway over her nipples, my groin area warms nevertheless. “What do you want?”
What do I want?
I want to pull that tank top off you and suck those perfect tits until you moan in pleasure, and then I want to drop those tiny little shorts and lick you until you come all over my tongue and scream my name, and then I want to show you what it feels like to ride a surfer.
Obviously, I don’t say that out loud.
“What do I want?” I say instead. “What are you doing?”
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