Page 2 of Tan Lines & Trouble
Though, I’m not sure why I thought confronting him at a party was a good idea, but it’s too late to turn back now, because here I am. Blue is totally right, I’m procrastinating. The question is…why? What’s the worst that could happen? You know, other than Dane, a God in his own right, not having a clue of who I am and laughing me straight out of this damn frat house.
Divine status or not, we have a history. Admittedly, it didn’t end well, but surely, it’s enough to grant me an audience with him.
So why are you making such a big deal out of talking to him? I ask myself. Maybe because he left you in his wake and never once looked back, my inner-asshole replies, trying to sabotage my budding confidence.
“Nope. Not today, asshole,” I mutter to myself, steeling my resolve. “I’ve got this. I am a strong, independent woman. I fear no man. The only thing holding me back is… me.”
I step out of the shadows, my eyes locked on my target, as I swipe a solo cup from the island and fill it with beer. I bring it to my lips and chug the lukewarm liquid. After tossing the cup, I wipe the foam from my lips with the back of my hand and set off toward my former best friend and lifelong crush, ready to demand answers.
TWO
Dane
“Place is packed,” I mumble, sinking back into the ugly-ass chartreuse colored couch, my legs spread wide and my beer clasped loosely in my hands.
“Hell yeah,” my right-hand man—literally and figuratively—Anton replies. “There’s not a better place to be tonight than the Zeta house.”
He’s wrong though. I’d rather be back in San Clemente, because if I was, it’d mean everything was fine, that my dad was healthy and not laid up in an ICU hospital room. I keep telling myself things could be worse, that he could have died. But he made it, and I’m here to help in any way I can. The drink in my hand, my friends by my side, the ocean at my back and a veritable buffet of hot, willing, and eager co-eds to choose from are just cherries on top. So, yeah, while I’m twenty-five-hundred miles away from where I want to be, I know I’m exactly where I need to be.
“Dawn patrol before class?” my friend Brooks asks from his spot next to me on the couch. The three of us are posted up on this oversized monstrosity in the middle of the room, observingthe mayhem while sipping ice-cold beers stocked specially for us—because fuck drinking that warm keg swill.
All around us, bikini top and short-shorts clad women dance seductively, vying for our attention. I’m about to answer him when the sight of a blonde and a redhead locking lips while grinding on one another steals my attention away.
Brooks reaches out and smacks the backside of my head. “The fuck?”
“Bros before hoes,” he says, smirking.
“Yeah,” Anton echoes. “Boards before bitches.” My two friends lean forward and bump their fists together.
I roll my eyes but answer him all the same. “Never miss a day. I’m like the fucking postal service—nothing’s gonna keep me away; rain or shine, I’m down.”
“Good. ‘Cause it’s gonna pour.”
“Torrential,” Anton adds.
The song pumping through the speakers changes to an old Danger Mouse song. I drain my beer and drop my head to the back of the couch, letting both the music and the alcohol flow through me.
“Refills?” Brooks says, collecting our empties. I nod, letting my eyes slip shut for a moment as Jack White sings about mirrors, triggers, and guns.
Quick as fuck Brooks is back, drinks in hand—a major perk of being surf royalty in a beach town. “Dude,” he says, sounding out of breath.
When neither Anton or I answer him, he digs his elbow into my shoulder. “Dude. Some chick was staring you down from the kitch. She’s headed this way and looks like she’s ready to tear you a new one.”
I pop my head up and take my cup from him, placing it on the couch between my knees.
Anton howls. “Don’t tell me you already banged and bailed? Dude, you’ve been home for like a week.”
Running my hands through my mop of curls, I grin. “Nah. You know I’ve been with my family.” I turn to Brooks. “She hot?”
“Only if you’re into petite, dark-haired bombshells.”
I rub my hands together. “I prefer ‘em blonde, but...” I trail off wagging my brows suggestively.
Not even two minutes later a knock-out with killer curves is walking my way. I start from the bottom, lazily working my way up her delectable body. She’s a short little thing with wide hips, a nipped-in waste, and tits I’d love to get intimately acquainted with. She’s easily hotter than every girl here and as she draws nearer, I become even more intrigued.
“Damn, she’s fine.” I run my tongue over my lower lip, admiring the way her dark hair is tied up into a knot on the top of her head. Thick bangs frame her face, giving way to a pair of Aviator-style glasses. She has a button nose and lush, full lips. Girl’s got the whole sexy-nerd thing on lock in a pair of daisy-duke overalls over a sports bra with a pair of shell-toe Adidas on her feet.
Finally, after what feels like the longest build up ever, my fun-sized goddess is before me. “Dane? Dane Foster?” she asks, her voice nothing more than a soft rasp. I grin and give the guys a nod, signaling for them to scram.
