Page 14 of One Timer With A Wingman

“You’re effing crazy,” I reply.

He chuckles and it’s deep and throaty. “I don’t know why but I like causing a reaction out of you, even if it’s negative.”

He goes back to eating the roast beef on his plate.

“That sounds really messed up,” I inform him.

“Nah, I just find your prickly personality a turn-on. I’m a glutton for punishment.” He winks.

I roll my eyes and go back to eating the chicken breast and salad on my plate. I don’t know why Aaron chose to sit beside me. He’s annoying.

After lunch we all head to the beach. I’m walking beside Ivy when she says, “You clearly want him.”

“Huh, who?” I ask.

She gives me a look that says, “who am I trying to fool?”

“I don’t want Aaron. He’s being annoying is all,” I counter.

“He’s a nice guy,” she says.

“How would you know?” I ask her.

“He’s sat in my section late at night by himself. He isn’t just some dense hockey jock with no personality. There’s more to him,” she says, sounding so sure.

“So he doesn’t just hook up with a girl and move on?” I question.

“No, that’s exactly what he does, but I bet he’s amazing in bed. I bet he could deliver multiple orgasms,” she continues.

I stop walking mid-step. “Does everyone on the trip know about me now?” I ask, referring to the fact I have never experienced an orgasm.

“Kind of.” She winces. “Just trying to be a good friend, Briar.”

“Gah, I do appreciate you, but I don’t need everyone worrying about my sex life. Trust me. I’ve got it under control,” I assure my friend.

Ivy raises her brows. “If you say so. I’ve got my sight set on Simon. Hopefully that pans out.”

“Good luck,” I say as we walk up to a shack on the beach that says water sports.

A guy named Gus is working in the shack. He greets us with what sounds like an Aussie accent.

Taylor tells him she would like to go windsurfing and then Hawk says we should all take turns and go parasailing.

“I prefer to not be air bound. I’ll stick with windsurfing,” I say to Gus.

Gus laughs. “Sure thing.”

“You’re air bound when you do those things in gymnastics,” Aaron notes.

“I’m still in control,” I reply.

“Ah, so you’re one of those,” Aaron states.

“Excuse me?” I ask, feeling my hackles rising.

“A control freak,” he answers.

He isn’t wrong, but I don’t like being called one.

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