Page 75 of The Best Friend Power Play

I'm the luckiest guy in the world to have her as my best friend, and I cannot—I will not—let anything jeopardize that.

I need to stay in control and make sure the feelings I'm developing for Hannah don't escalate further and ruin our friendship.

Captain Jason and his crew fill the screen with their stupid toned, bronzed bodies, wearing nothing but stupid happy smiles and the tiniest stupidest piece of nylon covering their junk.

At least I'm handling this maturely.

Hannah has stopped eating and is open-mouthed staring at the TV.

I grit my teeth and remind my inner caveman not to act like a jealous husband when I have no right to be. Hannah is free to ogle any man she likes stupid enough to wear a Speedo.

I just…I just…I just wish she were…ogling me?

Whoa. Is that what I'm feeling?

Not wanting to delve into the implications of that, I take out my frustrations by eating way too much food.

The serving dinner in Speedos scene continues for what feels like an eternity—do we really need that many close-ups, producers? I think we get the point—and yep, I think I have my answer.

I do want Hannah looking at me that way.

I'm polishing off my third chicken quesadilla when an idea strikes me.

I know how to have Hannah look at me the same way she's been staring at Captain Jason.

This weekend, I'm whisking her away to a place where we can mark off Swimming in the ocean from her hot girl summer list. She's afraid of the ocean, so I did some research and found a spot that will hopefully allay her fears.

As soon as we say goodnight and I'm in Chester's room, I'm placing an order on Amazon.

Captain Jason isn't the only one who can rock a Speedo, thank you very much.

13

Hannah

"I can't do this," I call out through the door of the change room.

"It's fine, Hannah. You'll be safe. I promise you. I'll be with you the whole time."

I let out a deep sigh.

For once, it's not swimming in the ocean I'm worried about.

It's this.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror.

I am going to murder Beth when we get back.

When I pulled out my bathing suit from the back of my closet yesterday, I discovered it had been devoured by moths. That's how long it's been since I've worn it.

In a bind, I called Beth since we're the same size. She'd just ordered a new swimsuit online that she hadn't worn yet. I offered to buy it from her. She insisted I take it with no payment. I was so grateful to her.

I'm not grateful anymore.

I suppose it's my fault for not trying the thing on beforehand, but I assumed that when Beth said it was a one piece, it would be a regular one piece providing a good amount of coverage.

What she neglected to mention is that it's the sexiest one piece ever designed, with so many cut outs and strappy pieces that it's something only a woman with the body of a burlesque dancer could pull off.

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