Page 139 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

“Sweet,” I offered her a fist bump that she did not return. Apparently I was on her shit list. No matter, I’d win her over again eventually. She’d always liked me before. Before I’d stolen her uncle, that was. Turning my attention to the gaggle of voyeuristic Miltons, I addressed them directly over George’sshoulder, “Any of you have the sunscreen?”

Lacey chucked a bottle at me with no ceremony whatsoever. She looked disappointed when I caught it easily. Her stank face was the exact same as Mavis’s.

“I’m gonna scoot your shirt over, baby, so I can get your back and shoulders,” I warned George, aware that his family was watching and not wanting to cross a line.

“Why?” George asked, unsure.

“Because I want to take care of you.”

He held very still for a moment, before he nodded. “Do what you have to,” George grunted, shoveling sand into his bucket again.

His shoulders were tight by his ears, the pink skin growing pinker. A few freckles—maybe moles?—speckled the flushed skin. I caressed them, ghosting my hand across the imperfections before I squirted some sunscreen onto my hands and got to work.

He shivered when the first swipe stroked along his nape, but otherwise didn’t react, simply melted into the care like he was starved of it.

I had never despised a stranger more than I hated Brendon.

Which I thought was pretty justified, all things considered.

I could still remember what George had said last night, stars in his teary red eyes,“Eight years and he never…I thought it was my fault. That I wasn’t worth the effort? Or maybe it was just normal to feel lonely, even when you were with someone.”

“Alex!” George’s voice snapped me out of my reverie. I jolted, hands stilling. “Are you okay?”

“What?” I blinked, confused. “Of course I’m—” and then I realized that I’d been squeezing his shoulders,hard.

I released him quickly.

There were marks where my fingers had pressed. Marks that could’ve turned to bruises if he hadn’t stopped me.Good,a small dark voice in the back of my mind murmured,maybe if you mark him enough, Brendon’s touch will fade.

It was a nice thought.

Fuck.

But not without consent. Never without consent. I’d had that beaten into my head over my phone call with Dominic. Since I was new to this…experiencing what I’d privately dubbed as my “Dom awakening” it was even more important that I made sure to ask before I did things.

“Sorry,” I apologized, maybe belatedly, since I’d begun spiraling again.

“It’s fine.” George didn’t seem nearly as grumpy, almost like that little bit of pain had leeched the grouch right out of him. He offered me a smile. “What made you so angry?”

“Unca George,” Mavis interrupted again, even more miffed this time.

“Sorry, sorry,” George laughed, turning his attention back to her. “I keep doing that.”

“Yes.” She glared at me again, round face bright red.

To pay for my transgressions I was banished to moat duty.

Which wasn’t all that much of a punishment even though Mavis clearly meant it as one. The sand was heating up already as I made room for myself half behind George, eager to feel him but not enough of an asshole to outright climb on top of him in front of his family. Sitting to his left a little, with one pec brushing his side, my legs folded, I finally felt at peace.

Every time he moved, his leg brushed against mine, which was tantalizing to say the least. Despite her serious approach to castle demolition, Mavis lost focus pretty early in the process. Rather than smoosh the towers George built, she turned her attention to his legs—surprisingly hairless—and began burying him the same way Joe was burying Lacey.

“Anyone want a drink?” Mrs. Milton offered, looking pleased as punch beneath her umbrella. “We’ve got…” She twisted, rifling around inside the cooler to her left. “Beer, a bottle of vodka, water, and…lemonade.”

“That’s mine.” Mr. Milton took the bottle of vodka out of her hand with a grunt. Mrs. Milton just rolled her eyes, passing out a variety of drinks to therest of us with a motherly smile.

“Here you go, honey.” She handed me a water bottle. “You must be parched.”

“Very,” I winked.

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