Page 12 of Diving In

He had on a pair of worn-out jeans, but the way they fit his body should absolutely not be allowed. Every damn inch clung to him just right, as if they were hand-stitched precisely for his lower half. They hugged all the essential areas, leaving very little to the imagination. And yet, I found myself eager for what exactlythey kept hidden. I caught myself nibbling on my bottom lip just to distract my brain from wandering too far—unsuccessfully, I might add.

As if the jeans weren’t enough, his white shirt gave him a look that was somehow both relaxed and put together. It was tight enough that it molded to his body, making it clear that he spent his free time surfing—the beach bum’s gym, as they called it.

Heat unfurled in the depths of my belly from a single glance at this man, and I was on edge just thinking about what I wanted to do to him, what Ineededto do to him.

Who was this gorgeous fucking stranger who somehow knew my name? Myfullname, at that.

Only my close family knew my entire name, and it was still rarely ever used. No one who knew me called me Georgia. I was G, had been since I was 15 and would be for as long as I lived. It’s short, sweet, and to the point.

Not to mention, I’d always felt like Georgia sounded like a 95-year-old grandma who was born in Alabama and knitted while talking with her birds.

Cute.

I hoped he thought I was just taken aback for a moment and not that I was ogling him for the past minute. With a smirk that told me I likely didn’t get away with shit, he said, “I guess it’s been a while, hasn’t it? It’s Cal.”

The way his name rolled off his tongue sent a shiver through me. His voice was smooth and silky yet dominant and strong, but more so, it wasfamiliar. I just couldn’t put my finger on why.

The flutter in the bottom of my stomach mimicked that feeling you get when you’re riding a rollercoaster—the one right before the drop at the top, where you sort of regret getting on the rollercoaster in the first place but also can’t wait to ride it again… That was the exact feeling I had. I was so caught off guard, flustered, and confused that I wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

“Wait, how do you know my name?” I questioned.

With one eyebrow raised, he smirked again. “Georgia, it’s me. Cal… Callahan Thomas… Fletcher’s friend.” He paused. “And for the record, everyone knows your name. There might be a lot that has changed since you were last here, but the size of the island has remained the same—small and nosy.”

I tried to piece together what he’d just said.

Fletcher’s friend, I mentally repeated what he’d just said.

Holy fuck.

I guess a lothad changed in fourteen years, and that included Cal.

Cal Thomas was Fletcher’s friend before he passed away. They worked together at the dive shop and ran around in the same crowd. I could admit now that it was a cliché crush. The one where the little sister gushed over her older brother’s friend from afar. If only my younger self could see this man now. He was cute back then, but now… now he was something out of a fucking magazine.

His once-lean body had been filled in with muscle, and a lot of it. His frame was bigger and seemingly much stronger, almost protective. His jawline was unreal, covered in just a subtle amount of scruff, telling me he normally kept his face clean but had missed a shave or two. His lips were full and looked so fucking delicious.

The hair was what had really thrown me off. He’d always worn it short, almost buzzed, when we were growing up. And while most of it was hidden under his hat right now, what I could see was substantially longer. The sandy brown waves spilled out from underneath his backwards hat, tousled perfectly at the base of his neck.

His face remained unchanged for the most part, but gone was any trace of a boy and in its place were only the features of a man. A gorgeous one, at that. I didn’t know how I missed it at first, because now that I knew, I couldn’t unsee it.

Cal had spoken more words to me in the last three minutes than he had the entire time Fletcher was alive. Understandably so, considering I was just one of his friend’s little sisters.

“It’s G.” I shot a look in his direction. “Everyone calls me G now, not Georgia.”

“G,” he repeated. “Mmm, I like that.” He rolled it around on his tongue effortlessly, and the grin on his face shot a ping of electricity through me.

I stood silently, hung up on trying to figure out if he was flirting with me or if this was just a surfer boy attitude at play. I was lost for what to say next, not wanting to sound stupid but struggling to string together anything remotely coherent.

Cal’s body language shifted to something more caring and sympathetic than before.

“I wasn’t sure if it would be you or Naomi that came back to the island, but for what it’s worth, I’m glad it’s you,” he said before a long pause. “I’m really sorry about your dad, Georgia. I can only imagine. Ever since he got sick—”

“How long?” I interrupted, my heart plummeting to the bottom of my stomach. I was a little embarrassed that I didn’t know this on my own, but curiosity won out as I waited for his reply.

“How long had he been sick?” he asked. “For a while. You didn’t know?”

If anyone else would’ve questioned me, I probably would’ve lost my shit. But with Cal, I hung on to every word that left his mouth, and one look at him told me he regretted what he said, or at least the way he phrased it.

“I didn’t mean to make it sound like you didn’t know. I just figured you would have,” he said, his eyes apologetic.

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