My stomach dipped and flew each time he went around a curve, my body leaning with his, while I prayed that this wasn’t a dumb decision that would get me killed.
Braxton drove through Encinitas, then slowed down and pulled off into a small parking lot that said Beacon’s Beach. This was…surprising.
When he parked, I climbed off the bike and removed my helmet. I wasn’t familiar with this beach, but it wasn’t that far from campus. Brax must have been able to read the look on my face because he said, “Mostly locals come here. It’s a hell of a lot quieter. Especially this time of year or this late in the day.”
It was no surprise that Braxton would go in search of the quiet beaches. My friends and I never did. We loved all the commotion. We went to the water to meet people and have fun, not to chill and relax, but…I did go by myself sometimes. Especially at sunrise. It’s what I’d done the morning after I found out I had siblings.
A second later, something else clicked—it was late in the day, and I had practice. I didn’t want to mention it to Brax. I…fuck, I didn’t want to leave. So I pulled out my phone and tried to covertly send out a text while he led me toward the other end of the lot.
Me: If Coach asks, I’m at home puking my guts out. I’m trying to get well before the game tomorrow.
It was a group message between me, Watty, Collins, and Ford. I figured they would start responding in three…two…
Ford: What the fuck!
Watty: You can’t miss practice the day before a game.
Collins: Are you legit skipping practice to get laid?
Me: Nah, it’s not like that. Don’t be dickheads. Cover for me. I’ve never done this before. It’s important.
Was it really, though? Going to the beach with Braxton?
But then, I didn’t think he did normal things like the rest of us, so I was basically studying rare phenomena, which made it important.
Watty: Okay…you cool?
Ford: Yeah, you all right?
Collins: You’ve been weird lately.
I could see why they thought that. I’d been different. And I was good…but I also wasn’t. I just didn’t think I could tell them that.
Me: Yeah, no worries. Talk to you later.
I was just putting my phone on vibrate when Brax stopped, cocking a brow at me. “Is this getting in the way of your texting?”
“Jealous? I’m not talking to anyone I want to fuck.”
“As if I’d care.”
“I love you too,” I replied, then pressed a playful, loud, dramatic kiss to his cheek.
Braxton shoved me away…but he was smiling.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Braxton
What. The. Fuck. Was I doing?
First, I’d left Grandma to hang out with Ty. Then we’d cleaned my house together before I took him for a ride on my motorcycle and to my favorite beach?
He’d been cool about the house, though. He hadn’t had to help me. My own brother wouldn’t have. And for whatever reason, spending that kind of time with him had made me think about those photos of Ty on the empty beach on his social media.
He had apparently broken me, and I didn’t fucking like it.
Still, I went first toward the steep dirt trail. It wound its way in a zigzag pattern down the cliff to the white sands of the beach below. Grandma used to bring us here.
Ty’s foot slipped. He immediately reached out for one of the wooden rails on the barrier that kept people from tumbling down the cliff, and I grabbed for him. My hand landed on his bicep, feeling the tight ball of muscle through the fabric of the jacket I’d lent him. The thought was kind of hot—Ty wearing my things. “I just saved your life.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t let me fall.”
“I thought about it, but I don’t really want to go to prison. Family reunions aren’t my thing.” Aaaaand, why had I said that? Ty’s blue gaze softened. “Jesus Christ, don’t. Don’t look at me with pity, Lacrosse. I can’t take that shit. I’ll push you down the cliff.”
“I would expect nothing less. Also, we have the strangest relationship.”
“Great. You don’t think I’m your boyfriend, right? When two boys meet and share orgasms, that doesn’t mean they’re in a relationship. It’s called hooking up.”
We started walking again. “Only we’re not. You’re just taking me on dates now. Please, for the love of God, when you get married, let your significant other give your kids the sex talk. Oh, and wait…are you bi or gay? I’ve never seen you with women.”
“This isn’t a date. And I’m not getting married. Or having kids. Gay.”
“I’m an equal opportunity lover, myself.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve seen. And don’t say lover. You sound like you’re eighty.”
“What eighty-year-olds do you hang out with, and can I meet them?”
“Like them older, do you?”
He laughed. “No. I just like cool people, and they sound cool. I can’t explain why I spend time with you, though.”