Page 33 of Forever Wild
By the time I’ve spread out my towel and begun to dig in my bag for sunscreen, Jack and Brian have begun working out.
I try not to watch. Try and fail. There’s a lot of lunging and grunting and muscles popping. Look, I know that my brother’s teammates are all in great shape, but most of the time when they’re working out, they’re covered in lots of padding and clothing. It’s a whole other experience seeing Jack shirtless with sweat glistening on his hard, toned body.
It almost makes me wish he still had that unruly beard. Anything to take away from how fucking good he looks.
I distract myself by pulling out my phone. Someone in Human Resources at the design firm sent over an email with employment forms and a ton of information. I read over it, stomach swirling with that anxious feeling I can’t seem to shake any time I think about the next step in my life.
I was always the kid who couldn’t wait to be an adult and out in the world on my own, and now…now I kind of wish I still had a couple more years to figure things out.
I love interior design. Art is the one thing I always seemed to be good at. What started as drawing and painting turned into restoring old furniture and picking out the perfect combination of pieces to make a room functional and beautiful. I still like to draw and paint too, but I never aspired to do those things for a living.
Actually, if I’m completely honest, I never really wanted to be an interior designer either. I sort of fell into it while taking art classes. At some point, I was forced to pick a major and I couldn’t think of anything else I’d rather do. That’s still true.
When my nerves can’t take it anymore, I close out of my email and open up my messages. And yes, I do steal another glance at Jack. His usual frown is in place. Except now it’s more of a determined scowl. My body tingles. Jesus, I really need to have sex. I cannot be fantasizing about Jack. We’re more likely to kill each other than fuck.
Oh god. Just the word has me feeling feral. What the hell is wrong with me?
Me
Help!
In true Bridget form, she calls five seconds later.
“Hello,” I answer, smiling already.
“How many times do I have to tell you, I am not helping you hide a body,” she says with a firm tone, then laughs. “Kidding. Tell me where to go and what to bring. Shovel? Duct tape?”
“Umm…condoms?”
“Ooh. I see. So it’s a serious cry for help.” Her soft laughter returns.
“Beyond serious. I’m having strange reactions to men I would never consider otherwise.”
“You mean Will? I thought you said he seemed nice.”
“No.” I shake my head. “We haven’t met up yet.Otherpeople.”
“It sounds like that’s the answer to your problem then. You need a real date.”
“Yeah,” I say, but not loving the idea. “Maybe.”
“Wait. Who are you having strange reactions to? Anyone I know?”
I bite my lip as I glance at Jack again. His dark hair hangs down over his forehead and into his eyes. It’s longer than I’ve ever seen it and my fingers itch to push it back out of his face.
“No,” I lie. “This morning I hit a pothole and the car bumping along had me squeezing my thighs together.”
Ash’s laughter joins with Bridget’s.
“Sorry,” she says when she can control herself. “I had you on speaker. I’m taking you off. One sec.”
“It’s fine. Hi, Ash.”
“Hey, Little Sharpie.”
“Any words of advice? You used to date around. Ever hit a dry spell?”
“It was all a dry spell before Bridget,” he says.
