Page 7 of Brassy Bigwig

I hope.

My god, I’m ridiculous.

I roll my eyes from beneath my shades, irritated I can’t get the thought of this stranger off my mind. I force my eyes from him, pull the book I brought with me from my bag, and try to distract myself with someone else’s love life.

A little while later, Shelby forces me to get into the pool with her. I love sitting by the pool and lounging on the sand at the beach, but I’ve never been one to enjoy being in the water. Today is hot enough, though, andthe cool water is more refreshing than I expected it to be.

Shelby, doing what she does best, pretends to swim into a guy not too far from where I’m hanging out at the edge. When they begin striking up a conversation, I decide to get out and go back to the cabana. Before I get the chance, I freeze, noticing his shimmering eyes are locked directly on me. I stare back for a few seconds before remembering my sunglasses are laying on my chair.

My eyes grow wide as I feel the heat spread across my cheeks, embarrassed about getting caught. Swallowing nervously, I turn around and climb the steps out of the pool. As soon as I get to our cabana, I wrap myself in a towel and put my sunglasses back in place. Feeling safe and unseen once again, I lay my chair flat and rest for a little while.

It feels as though I’ve barely closed my eyes before I’m awoken suddenly by a ruckus next to my chair and cold drops of water dripping onto my skin. When I finally get a chance to see what’s happening, I realize Shelby has invited the group of guys she was hanging out with in the pool to do shots in the cabana.

I roll my eyes, irritated at the intrusion.

Luckily, the majority of them go back into the pool after that, but two linger behind. Shelby sits on her chair with one of them, and they’re lip-locked, instantly.

Ew.

The other guy who stayed is looking at me awkwardly, as though he’s expecting me to pull him in for a slobber fest of our own. Without being asked, he takes a seat on the end of my chaise.

“What’s your name?”

I’m so shocked he sat down, I can’t come up with something quick enough to get him to leave.

“Genevieve,” I state sternly, crossing my arms and legs.

Anytime I meet a guy, I give him my mother’s name until I get a chance to feel him out. They don’t need to know my real name until I feel like they’re someone who I’d like to keep around for a while. Some of them have ended up as just friends, others turned into relationships, but none of them have been the man I’ve needed them to be.

This guy? He’ll never know my real name.

“Chloe,” Shelby slurs, having broken the sloppy kiss between her and whoever the hell he is.

“I thought you said your name is Genevieve,” the clueless guy interrupts.

“It is,” I assert.

“I don’t think—”

“What, Shelby?” I glare at her so she knows just how unhappy I am.

“They’re having a bonfire on the beach tonight. We’re so going,” she insists.

“You have fun, I’ll have to skip it,” I explain.

“Aww come on, it will be fun,” Clueless whines.

Like a toddler.

“She can’t make it.”

A sexy timbre breaks through the conversation, and that’s when I turn my head to find him standing on the other side of my chair with drinks in hand. A beer, a strawberry daiquiri, and a Cosmo.

“Who are you?” Clueless asks. “Her dad?”

Oh my god, what an asshole. Before I get a chance to tell him off, the dreamy one speaks up.

“No,” he answers, completely unaffected by the dad comment and not taking his eyes off of mine. “She can’t make it because she’s accompanying me to dinner this evening.”

---