Page 107 of Debugging Love

“Unfortunately.”

“And, I don’t know, he’s sorta innocent, which is cute.”

“So it’s not all about his body?”

Guilt tugs on Morgan’s shoulders. “Not totally.”

“Do not break Drew’s heart,” I say, feeling suddenly and inexplicably protective of my annoying coworker.

Morgan dashes into the bathroom, string bikini in hand. Before closing the door, she peeks her head out and says, “I won’t. But you know what they say. What happens in Atlanta stays in Atlanta.”

I raise an eyebrow. “People say that?”

“I do,” Morgan says before disappearing into the bathroom.

When we’re both suited up and covered up in sweatpants and T-shirts, we head down to the pool. The guys arrive soon after in swim trunks and shirts. I descend the steps into the shallow end and spin in lazy circles while trailing my fingertips along the surface of the water, which allows me to glance at Chance unnoticed. He ignores me while he removes his shirt.

In the bright pool lights, his upper half is on full display, every muscle strong and defined and popping. My knees give out a little, but the water catches me. I sink down and dog paddle to the deep end to have a very serious talk with myself.

What Morgan said is categorically untrue. What happens in Atlanta does not stay in Atlanta. It lingers in the memory banks for quite a long time. For instance, shirtless Chance is imprinted on my consciousness forever. It’s not going away. Not even when I’m seventy.

Thinking through this logically, if I let my physical attraction to Chance get the best of me, and I allow my lips to go anywherenear his lips, then I will feel heaps of regret come Wednesday afternoon when I’m stuck in a car with him for five hours.

Drew, looking rather well-built himself, objectively speaking, cannonballs into the water followed by Morgan in her skimpy bikini. She instantly grabs onto Drew and allows him to pull her the length of the pool, after which she climbs onto his shoulders and shouts, “Chicken!”

Chapter 24

Danni

I’m on Chance’s shoulders. His very, very strong, naked shoulders. My bare legs are touching his naked neck. I hope he’s up-to-date on his water safety protocols because I might pass out, and he’s the one I want administering CPR.

No, you don’t. Shut up, Danni.

While I’m adjusting to the sensory overload, Morgan reaches for me, claws in full attack mode. Drew is facilitating her charge, his floppy bangs plastered against his forehead, his lightly bronzed skin contrasting with the crystal blue water. Next thing I know, Morgan’s hands are on me, gripping my biceps, trying to tear me off of Chance. My legs have no intention of letting go of Chance. Ever. We wrestle clumsily while the guys cheer us on, Morgan giggles, and I focus singularly on her demise.

Turns out, she’s stronger than me, or maybe Chance’s foot slips. One of the two, or both, because I lose my balance and plow face-first into the pool.

The sound of roiling water overtakes me, and I add to it by blowing air out my nose so I don’t choke. I’m like a fish in abowl until strong hands grab my waist and pull me upright. As the water pours off my face, I open my eyes to skin. Lots of it. Slippery and wet, molded over well-defined muscles. My face is mere inches from Chance’s pecs while his hands still anchor my waist.

I look up at him. Water beads down his forehead and cheeks, caresses his cheekbones and sturdy chin. He licks his lips which are drenched and glistening. I can almost taste them.

He grins. “This is familiar.”

All too familiar, but no good can come of falling for a player who bjorks my code. I twist out of his grip, “No it’s not,” I say. I show him my back and do a dolphin dive with vigorous flutter kicks to splash some sense into him.

Like an eel, I circle around, push off the wall and swim to the shallow end. When I resurface, Morgan is sitting on the edge with Drew at her feet. She eyes me knowingly, a hint of satisfaction on her face.

“Let’s go to the hot tub,” she says to Drew while grinning at me.

I shoot her the stink eye which only widens her grin.

Drew hops out of the pool and follows Morgan. They both slide into the hot tub and then Morgan is on Drew like melted cheese on a hot pizza. I quickly avert my eyes.

Chance is mid-pool, facing me. He wades tentatively through the water until he’s inches away. I scramble to the steps, find secure footing, and then sit. Chance won’t relent. He follows me over, sits on the other side of the stainless steel handrail.

We’re quiet as gentle waves bob on the surface of the water, flattening as the silence between us lingers. Drew murmurs something to my right and Morgan giggles, but I don’t dare look over. I might toss my cookies.

Although, shirtless, covered in water, without his thick-rimmed glasses, Drew looks more appealing. I supposeMorgan’s fascination makes some sense. But I don’t think she realizes she has to talk to him after they’re done sucking face. Her problem, not mine.

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