Page 101 of Knot Just for Show

In the place of my shame, I now felt righteous anger. Just like that time Britt had spoken badly of Lysander—my rage was aflame.

“Brit, I know that it might be too difficult to ask you to be decent,” I bite out, tossing my hat onto the lounger beside her, fluffing my hair gently.

“And I’m sure that you’re not used to hearing ‘no’ particularly often, being the pretty little peach that you are,” I sigh, as if I couldn’t be more bored—though the adrenaline pumping in my veins makes me feel like every cell in my body is vibrating at high speed. Fighting against the tremor in my limbs, I unbutton my shirt dress cover up and toss it over my hat on the chair beside her—my curves, rolls, and stretch marks on display right alongside my tan, my massive tits, and my porno-lifeguard, red one piece.

“But you’re entirely full of shit. The boys chose me because we have a real connection—not because I’m a hot bitch with a dog water personality.”

Britt’s jaw drops. She and her entourage audibly gasping as I deliver my scathing rebuke.

“Now if you don’t mind, it’s fucking hot out—and I’m going to have a swim instead of being harassed. I’d appreciate it if you’d get out of my seat by the time I’m ready to dry off. You’re sitting on my towel,” I sniff, turning on my heel and making my way to the water’s edge despite the fact that I’m internally freaking out so hard it feels my stomach threatening to fall out my butt.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Lysander

My heart hammers against my ribcage as I run toward the lacy white foam of the waves breaking against the beach—not because of the exertion, but because of the knife’s edge of panic sinking into my mind at the sight of Teddy and this Anton guy.

I splash into the warm salt water, my steps slowing as the sea rises past my shins, my knees—until I dive into a breaking wave—paddling to where Teddy and Anton tread water beyond the swells.

“Hey—why’d you take off?” I call to Teddy as soon as I’m within earshot.

“And who’s this—the trust fund kid?” Anton nods his head at me, his massive golden cross necklace glittering just beneath the water’s surface.

Teddy’s tight expression turns into an outright frown, but he doesn’t respond directly to Anton—opting instead to bypass his comment entirely and introduce me as if nothing has happened.

“Lysander, this is—” Teddy begins, but I cut him off, not bothering to warm the chill in my voice.

“Yeah, I know who he is,” I interrupt coldly. “Why did you just take off like that to talk to this asshole?” I take a page from Anton’s own book, talking to Teddy about him as if he weren’t there.

Anton lets out a big belly laugh and tips backward so he floats easily in a reclining position.

“Oho, the prissy little tranq-boy is defending his territory! How cute!” he teases in overblown baby-talk.

“Shut the fuck up Anton, don’t call him that,” Teddy groans with exasperation.

That’s about all I need to see. Some machismo-laiden paragon of toxic masculinity who had matched with Britt is being a complete and total ass. Not exactly a surprise.

Teddy was probably trying to avoid interacting with him by ditching out into the surf, and I can’t say that I blame him. Since the escape plan backfired, I’ll act as rescue team—collecting Teddy and bringing him back to the rest of the pack so that we can circle the wagons until this stupid drama farming exercise isover and we can go back to the peace of our villa for the rest of the night before we have to pack for home tomorrow.

I look to the shoreline, and my stomach clutches as I see a cluster of people approaching our beach chairs; a small blonde woman, in an even smaller pink bikini, making a straight line for Ursula’s open seat between Ash and Mavren.

“Hey Teddy,” I call to him. “I think we’d better get back to the others,” I suggest uneasily.

“Ah, shit,” Teddy hisses under his breath once he catches sight of the unfolding drama on the beach. “Yeah, you’re right Sandy—let’s motor.” Teddy prepares to begin the swim back to shore with me—when Anton’s hand splashes up and out of the water with surprising speed—clamping part way around one of Teddy’s massive biceps.

“C’mon man, have you really turned into a complete and total pussy in the last few days?” Anton asks Teddy, incredulity knitting his brows.

“Let go of me, Anton,” Teddy warns, pulling his arm free of Anton’s grip easily.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, man—are you actually serious right now?” Anton shakes his head in disbelief, barking a fake laugh when Teddy doesn’t respond, just turns his back on him.

I begin to paddle toward the shore, Teddy splashing behind—when I hear Anton’s voice again, breath hitching slightly with the effort of paddling and kicking after us as he taunts, “You’re really gonna just lift your leg and alpha piss all over Ursula and her lame ass pack when you could pull a literal goddess even hotter than Britt once this stupid show airs and you’re still single?” he scoffs.

Antons words make something inside me recoil, a sour sensation like nausea turning my stomach, but Teddy doesn’t say anything—just keeps kicking and paddling behind me—untilboth of us can touch the bottom once more, legs pumping in the wet moving sand, as the waves draw back from the beach.

“You can’t be serious dude! ” Anton continues to call after us, stumbling his way onto the sand—hot on our heels.

I reach for Teddy’s hand, but he doesn’t take it—instead snatching his entire arm away, his strides taking him further from Anton—but also from me.

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