Page 6 of Hot Pucking Summer

He bypasses the hot tub and leans against the railing, taking in the view. "Hey."

I scan the outline of his body, the flimsy sleepwear doing little to contain his stocky physique. Draper has been going on incessantly for months now about how hot Cloyce is, and I have to agree with my bestie. Cloyce is fucking delectable.

A thread of guilt worms its way into my gut. Is it wrong to think about your best friend's partner in this way? Ordinarily, yeah, it would be. But there's something about this weekend that makes me think this isn't an ordinary situation.

My mind wanders back to that night a couple of years ago when Draper caught me getting off. Never in all our years of friendship had we ever done anything sexual together, and for the life of me, I still don't know what possessed me to share my deepest, darkest fantasy with him. My brain couldn't process when he said he wanted the same thing, so I left it on the shelf. I've dated a little since then, but I knew in my gut that none of my partners were right for that scenario.

But Cloyce? He's something else entirely. Could he be the one? Is Draper still open to it, or has he forgotten about it? And what about Cloyce? He brushed off my compliment last night as a joke. Does he think I'm full of shit?

Cloyce spins around. "Water nice?"

"Yeah. You should come in."

Color infuses his cheeks. "Oh, I don't think so."

Is he still embarrassed about what I walked in on yesterday? Or, wait… Is it me?

Even though my invitation for him to join me is purely innocent, maybe my reputation—which is ninety percentbullshit and ten percent untrue—precedes me. Maybe he assumes I'm just another dumb jock on the hunt for dick.

"Or we can make breakfast?" I suggest, scratching at my wet chest. I've had to grow a thick skin in life, and I've learned not to give a shit about what other people think of me. But the idea that Cloyce might think I'm a fuckboy bugs me. I shove that thought away and refocus on the present moment. "Bet the smell of coffee and bacon will wake Draper up."

Cloyce's eyes brighten. "That's a great idea. I make killer scrambled eggs."

"Awesome. Can't wait to try 'em." I stand in the hot tub, and Cloyce's golden-brown eyes rove up and down my body. "Do you mind?" I ask, pointing to the towel hanging on the chair.

"Oh. Of course."

He stretches out his arm, offering me the towel. Our fingers brush for the slightest moment, and I swear the color in his cheeks deepens.

"I'll go get changed and meet you in the kitchen," he says before quickly scurrying away. I hate him leaving, but man, the sight of those two big-ass globes bouncing around in his shorts makes me grateful I'm alone so no one can see how hard it's made me.

Yep. This is going to be averyinteresting weekend indeed.

Cloyce wasn't exaggerating. His scrambled eggs were the bomb. I was right, too. The smell of caffeine raised Draper from his slumber. Over breakfast, I suggested we spend the morning by the lake.

"Are you sure I can't take anything else?" Cloyce asks from behind me on the narrow dirt track we're on that leads to the lake. "I feel like you're carrying everything."

"No. It's fine. It's Draper who should be offering, but oh, that's right, he had to go take one of his twenty-minute showers after breakfast."

Cloyce laughs, and it's a light and airy sound that swirls in my chest. "He is not a morning person, and he takes forever to get ready."

"Tell me about it. That's why I suggested we take this stuff down ourselves. Otherwise, we wouldn't get down to the water before midday."

Cloyce has a beach bag slung over his shoulder and a water bottle in each hand, while I'm balancing the inflatable raft under one arm, have the cooler digging into my palms, and am dragging the folding chairs behind me. It's heavy, and it's a lot, but there's no way I'd let Cloyce take anything else. This dirt track is slippery, and I don't want to run the risk of him falling.

Andjustas I have that thought, I hear the crunch of dirt behind me followed by a sharp gasp. I turn and drop everything when I see Cloyce sliding on the loose path, his arms flailing. I rush over to him, but I don't make it in time. He lands on the ground with a sharp yelp. My stomach drops as I see him grab his ankle, his face twisted with pain.

"Stay still, stay still," I murmur, crouching down next to him, assessing him for any other injuries. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"No," he mutters through clenched teeth, tears welling in his eyes.

"Okay. I'm going to take you back to the house."

"I don't think I can get up."

"That's fine. I'll carry you."

His eyes meet mine, wide with something more than just pain. "You can't. I'm too heav?—"

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