Take Me To The Beach

by K. L. Grayson, Karina Halle, A. L. Jackson, Marni Mann, Monica Murphy, Devney Perry, Kristen Proby, Rachel Van Dyken

“All those years of speech therapy.” She sighed. “And look, it only happens when you get frustrated or nervous… but…” Then she frowned. “He doesn’t make you nervous, does he?”

  “Look.” I stood to put some space between us and the uncomfortable conversation. “I’m going to be late for work, I swear it’ll be fine. We’re friends. He’s not into me in that way, and I’m sure not into him in that way either. We’re from completely different planets.” Besides, guys like him, they just couldn’t help themselves. All females — males too — stared. It worked for him, but I wasn’t sure I would ever be comfortable with that type of attention.

  “Okay.” Mom nodded sagely and held out my phone.

  I tried grabbing it, but she didn’t let go. “Mom.”

  “He doesn’t do drugs does he?”

  “Mom.” I snapped grabbing my phone. “No, of course not!”

  “Has he touched you?”

  “I want to die right now. Why don’t you just run me over with the minivan?”

  “It’s in the shop.” She grinned then finally released my phone. “Just be careful with him. He has seductive eyes.”

  “Mom, eyes are eyes. His eyes are… normal I don’t even know what color they are.” I was lying. Everyone knew his eyes were brown, a golden brown that, according to one blog, felt like you were getting stripped naked and worshipped all at once. I shivered.

  “Uh huh.” Mom sipped her coffee and gave me a total look of disbelief. “Your dad knows the color of Zane’s eyes, and he’s partially blind like my offspring.”

  “Okay, first of all, that’s creepy. Second, I’m your daughter. Offspring sounds too medical.”

  “Honey,”

  “What.” I huffed, stuffing my beanie over my head and crossing my arms. “What is it?”

  “Sometimes… it’s okay to be reckless.”

  I hesitated, not sure how to respond because, it sounded like my mom just gave me the talk then ended it by handing me a beer and a condom. What had just happened?

  “I’m the opposite of reckless.”

  “Something tells me, he likes that.”

  “Bye, mom.”

  I hopped on my bike and shoved my earbuds in as I made the two-mile trek over to the resort.

  So what if I was listening to his music?

  And had just recently purchased his last album on iTunes?

  And was obsessed with the duet he’d done with Gabe Hyde?

  The guy could sing.

  His last album sounded completely different from what he was writing or working on the day previous.

  And even though I tried, the images of his shirtless body invaded every stream of consciousness I had as I pumped my legs faster and faster.

  Paired with the taste of his lips on mine.

  And his fake orgasm the night before.

  Don’t even get me started on the fact that the song I was listening to was called Skin.

  By the time I made it to the hotel, I was sweating profusely, pieces of my hair stuck to my neck. I tugged off my beanie and pushed my glasses back up while I locked my bike and quickly ran into the office to clock in.

  “Fallon.” Jared was my manager, and he was creepy. As in, he seemed like the type of guy that used way too much hair gel and wasn’t aware that if you smiled too big all the time it wasn’t sexy, just disturbing, and alarming on so many levels. “Rough morning?”

  I grunted.

  It was my typical Jared response.

  And I wasn’t in the mood to make small talk, not with images of Zane still burned in my head.

  There had literally been nothing in any of the articles about his new album, just that he was working hard at it after a freak accident on stage last year.

  The YouTube video didn’t show much, there was lots of screaming, then the stage had collapsed, and he’d gone into the crowd face first.

  A crowd of over eighty thousand people.

  The caption read. “Pop star has nervous breakdown.”

  He was rocking back and forth, people tried to touch him, he screamed, I’d never seen anyone look so crazed in my entire life.

  The worst part was his voice.

  It wasn’t confident, smooth, controlled.

  It had been terrified, as if someone was trying to hurt him.

  I refused to watch the rest of the video. Because really, it wasn’t fair that all of his embarrassing and horrible moments were live for the world to see. If I wanted information I just typed in his name, if he wanted information on me, he had to ask. It seemed hardly fair.

  “So?” Mags grabbed my shoulder with her hand. “Spill!”

  I glared. “You pushed me off a ledge!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fallon, I say this because I love you, but if I had to push you in front of oncoming traffic, just to get Zane Andrews to notice you, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

  “You’d kill me?”

  “A slow moving vehicle, you’d break a leg, hardly something to cry about.”

  “Are you hearing yourself?”

  She rubbed her hands together. “Tell me every single thing. Don’t leave out any details. Has he kissed you? Are his hands soft? Does he have a big—“

  “—Dick?” A familiar male voice said from behind me.

  Mags’ eyes widened in horror.

  I hung my head. “He’s behind me isn’t he?”

  She nodded, gaping like a fish.

  Slowly, I turned. “Oh, hey.”

  “Casual.” He nodded. “I was curious if you were going to go for the whole casual approach or just turn red, and — oh wait, you’re doing that too.”

  He pointed while I let out a shaky breath. “Please don’t hold my friend’s sins against me. She’s medicated.”

  Mags snapped out of her stupor and shoved me aside. “She exaggerates.”

  “Hey, you can’t be in here!” Jared stomped toward us. He was so Portland, in his North Face jacket and khakis. “Employees only.”

  “She’s here.” Zane moved his finger from pointing at my face to pointing at Mags.

  Jared glared. “Sorry Maggie, you can’t be in here either. No exceptions.”

  “Don’t you have more gel to buy?” Mags said sweetly.

  His jaw clenched while Maggie sauntered toward him and then grabbed him by the elbow and led him away.

  “So…” Zane rubbed his hands together. “What first?”

  My head swiveled back so fast I’m impressed I didn’t get a kink. “What do you mean ‘what first?’ I have to work.”

  “I’m helping.” The grin was back full force, and it was directed at me. The heat of his stare was staggering in the way it made me want to both launch myself into his arms and then run for dear life.

  “You do realize I clean people’s hotel rooms?”

  He copied my stance. “You do realize I have two working hands?”

  “Alright then.” I grabbed the clipboard and slammed it against his chest. “I’ll grab the cart, and we’ll just go at it.”

  “Sounds dirty.”

  “Trust me.” I sighed. “It will be.” Just not the way he was probably used to.

  Zane

  Three hours of flushing toilets, and I was suddenly thankful she only had a five-hour shift this morning. It wasn’t like I’d planned on going to work with her like a total loser. But I’d driven to the set, taken one look at all the extras, consumed at least a half bag of marshmallows, then found myself passing the resort.

  After a few questions at the front desk, I was directed to the back office where Fallon would be, and the rest was history.

  Well, sort of.

  I ‘d just stripped the bed when I heard her scream.

  My feet tangled in the sheets nearly sending me against the nightstand before I freed myself and ran into the other room.

  “What’s wrong?” Adrenaline spiked through my system as I sized up the situation. Fallon’s eyes were wide and then she did a little dance and washed her hands about five times before shudde
ring.

  I peeked around the corner of the table. Clinging to the wall like a giant deflated slug was a used condom. I smirked. “Tell me you touched it.”

  “With my bare hands!” She squealed. “I was picking up the chair, and something was stuck to it and—” She made a gagging noise.

  “Is that how it got on the wall?”

  “I kind of threw it once I realized what it was.”

  We both turned toward the wall where the used condom was currently slipping down to the floor.

  “You should probably pick that up.” I mused in a haughty voice. “I mean this is your job.”

  “Screw you! I’m not touching it again!” She shook her head. “Do you even realize how many used condoms I’ve been subject to?”

  “Hopefully none of them your own.”

  Her face flamed red.

  “Or no judgment if they were.” I held up my hands.

  “Here.” She shoved a roll of paper towels into my hand. “You want to help? Do the dirty work.”

  I pulled off about a billion paper towels and knelt. “Please tell me this isn’t another elderly couple.”

  “Honeymooners.” She called from somewhere in the large room. “Just toss it in the trash can.”

  “No. Really?” I retorted, “And here I was going to keep it as a trophy!”

  “Very funny.” Fallon walked back into the room while I tossed the condom in the trash. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun on the top of her head, her black glasses, looked way cuter on her than the monstrosity that had been hanging out on her face yesterday.

  In fact, if I was into nerds, she’d be a hot one, like the hot librarian all the kids stare at when they think she’s not looking.

  “What?” Fallon touched her face. “Is s-something wrong?”

  “You stutter when I stare at you.” I stared harder, mainly because I liked to stare at nice things, so what? Her face was interesting, completely free of makeup except for that damn chapstick and a bit of mascara.

  Hell, I probably wore more makeup performing than she’d ever worn in her entire life.

  “Zane?” Her Counting Crows gray shirt rose over her narrow hips, exposing some flesh. “What’s going on?”

  I took a step toward her.

  She backed up.

  I took another step.

  And her back hit the wall.

  “I lost my chapstick.”

  “Then you should go to the store.” She patted my chest. “Didn’t we just have this conversation a few days ago?”

  “You should make me some more.”

  “That wasn’t part of our deal.”

  “It should be.”

  She had nice lips. Fallon sucked at her teeth, biting into her plump bottom lip as it trembled under the pressure. I’d always been a lip guy. Most guys were all about the tits and ass.

  Not me.

  Lips.

  The mouth.

  As it formed words, inhaled, exhaled, the little pant girls tended to make when they were nervous, when I was too close, the exact sound she was making while I unabashedly stared her down.

  “You can’t just keep changing the terms of our agreement.” She murmured.

  “You have a pretty mouth.” I declared taking a step back. Because for a second, I was tempted to kiss her, my new friend, the only friend willing to take me around Seaside so I could actually get my ass back to work. “Sorry, I tend to fixate on objects.”

  She pressed a hand to her forehead. “That’s, fine.”

  “I may write a song about it.” No chance in hell was I writing a song about her mouth because songs were emotional, a part of myself. Writing about something I wanted while being able to access it, well in my mind it was like a drug addict penning a song about cocaine, not the smartest move. Music has a delicious way of making you want.

  And I was suddenly very aware that I wanted a repeat of the other day.

  The kiss.

  Our lips pressed together in a frenzy, the sliding of her bottom lip across my top as my tongue flicked away bits of chapstick.

  “Zane.” Fallon coughed. “You’re doing it again.”

  “Being weird?” I offered.

  “Yes.”

  “Sorry.”

  “So, let’s just… clean up in here and we can finish the last two rooms, sound good?”

  “Yup.”

  “Is this helping your creative process Mr. Hollywood?”

  I grabbed the trash bags and shrugged. “Not really, but I’m not by myself, so I guess that’s progress.”

  “What would you be doing right now if you weren’t here?”

  I hesitated, unsure if I should be honest or just laugh it off.

  “Zane…” Her voice was pleading, a bit unsure, but still pleading. And I hated lying to people when they were trying to be nice, human, good.

  “I would be trying to write music. With the shades down. Naked.”

  “Why naked?”

  “Nothing good ever happens while clothed.” I winked.

  But she didn’t buy it.

  And that was my second mistake.

  Giving her a truth followed by a lie.

  Because now she knew my tell.

  She knew what was fake and what was real.

  Which meant I was no longer in the position where I could afford to be the liar… Did I mention that sometimes I hate my life?

  Fallon

  I took him everywhere.

  And like a pubescent child, he was demanding and sometimes whiny. I made a mental note to bring marshmallows and some sort of sugary soda to keep him occupied while driving in the car.

  “Money,” Zane blurted before I dropped him off at his house. “You need money.”

  “What?”

  “For school.” He did that nonchalant shrug thing. “Right? I mean you said your financial aid didn’t kick in right away, so what if, I pay you?”

  “You do realize I was going to do it for free, right?”

  “Gas costs money, and so does your time, not to mention the fact that I had to stop at least three times for food, and girls gotta eat too.” His eyes flashed. “Eating is important.”

  “O…kay.” I tried not to frown, but he wasn’t making sense again. “So you want to pay for food.”

  His hands started to shake, he quickly pulled at the door handle, but I grabbed his arm.

  “Hey,” My fingers dug in, keeping him in place. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m always okay.” He flashed me a fake celebrity smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Well for one, you’re shaking. Then again, I’d be shaking too if I consumed that much sugar within a twenty-four hour period. But you just… something seems wrong.”

  He jerked his arm away. “I need to pay you.”

  “What is with this obsession to pay me? I don’t want your money!”

  “But it’s necessary.”

  “Why?” I threw my hands in the air. “And why are we fighting about this?”

  “Shit.” He leaned against the seat of the car and dropped a couple of f-bombs that had my eyes widening with a mixture of shock and horror. Had I seriously pissed him off that bad? “If I pay you, this stays business, alright?”

  Confused, I pushed further. “So you need me to be more professional? Is that it?”

  “God save me from ignorant women.”

  “Hey!”

  He swallowed my next sentence, quite literally, with the cheerful help of his tongue as he slid it past my lips. Hands dug into my hair as he tilted his head, his mouth pressing against mine in a different angle that I felt all the way down to my toes.

  He kissed like he sang.

  With smooth wicked strokes that had me wondering how any guy would ever compare.

  I leaned into him; our chests just barely grazed one another as his lips slid against mine over and over again, like he was enjoying the feeling of them touching more than the actual kiss itself, like he wanted to memorize the exact feel. />
  With a jerk, he pulled away. Golden brown eyes locked on mine. “I have to pay you.” His voice was deliciously raspy. “Paying you makes this your job. Kissing you makes you equal parts boss and employee. I can’t kiss someone I work with. It’s against the rules.”

  “What rules?”

  “Every rule.” His eyes were desperate. “So, I pay you. And we go from you doing me a favor to mutually benefitting from our business endeavor.”

  “And then we go our separate ways,” I added, trying to figure out why my heart sank a little, and why I wanted him to kiss me again.

  “Absolutely.” His smile was back. “Except, I’ve always had a hard time following the rules, so I’m going to kiss you again…”

  “But you just said—”

  His mouth covered mine. The kiss wasn’t gentle, it was punishing, like he’d gone from wanting to coax it out of me to demanding I kiss him back, forcing me to press against his chest in a way to gain leverage between our bodies.

  He broke away. “I’ve always been horrible with authority.”

  “In this case you’re your own authority.”

  “Damn it.” He winked. “Sorry, I just…” He cursed under his breath. “Know that I completely agree that this sounds insane, but can I kiss you again?”

  “You are seriously the most confusing and irritating person I’ve ever met.”

  “You forgot sexy.”

  “On purpose.” I shoved his chest. “Because you know you’re like a walking sex toy.”

  He burst out laughing. “I like it.”

  “You would.”

  “I’m writing a song right now.”

  “I know.” I shook my head. “Zane, are you on drugs? I was with you all day. You’ve been trying to write the same song all day, with that same sentence. Heck, I could probably write that song better than you.”

  “Can’t seem to walk away when you look at me like you want me to stay.” He sang smoothly. “Tell me you mean it when your eyes beg for more. You lie with your words, your body sings the truth, I know you want it as much as I do—” His mouth curved into a smile as his lips brushed a kiss across mine. “You know nobody can make you feel the way I do….”

  I was shaking.

  He was dangerous.

  The type of dangerous that invites itself into your house before you have a chance to say no, then starts rummaging through your fridge and asking if you want pasta for dinner.