Page 45 of Cool for the Summer

I like being Beck’s exception.

“What about you?” he asks, folding his legs underneath him.

“What about me?”

“I told you my dating history—well, most of it. There was one more guy in law school. Now it’s your turn.”

“What was the deal with the law school guy?” I ask, in part because I’m curious and in part to delay talking about my own history.

“Ben. He was much more serious about becoming a lawyer than me. We’re still in touch, but he’s on to bigger and better things. He got along better with my dad than me, which was kind of a red flag. And he was the last guy I was with, which was months ago. I’ve been tested since then, just so you know.”

I already knew without asking that Beck would have mentioned something if there was something to mention. “I’m negative,” I offer, though maybe I should have brought it up earlier. “And I’m on PReP.”

“Good to know,” he says evenly.

“Why was getting along with your dad a red flag?”

“No more stalling,” Beck says, tenting his hands over his bare chest. “Are you the kind of person who stays friends with their exes?”

I want to push back and tell him it’s none of his business, but I can’t bring myself to be that much of an asshole. Instead, I choose my words carefully. “I really only have one ex. And we decidedly did not stay friends.”

Beck frowns. “How is that possible? The only one ex thing?”

I take a deep breath. “The first week of college I met a boy. His name was Aidan, as it happens. He was my first... everything. First kiss. First love, really. I was a dumb kid when we got together, and after four years of being happy, I thought we were going to be together forever. The kind of love that you say Pete and Jack have—that soulmate kind of love? I thought I had it. Which is why I can tell you it doesn’t exist.”

“What happened?” Beck asks, voice soft as the pillow under my head.

“We were looking at apartments. We were supposed to move in together, start our lives. I was going to be a great actor, and he was going to become a famous architect. The usual twenty-two-year-old bullshit. And one day he up and tells me he doesn’t love me anymore. He doesn’t want to be tied down. He wants to be single for a while, he says. But it turns out that was bullshit, too. I found out a little while later that he met someone else, an older guy with tons of money who lived in a penthouse. He moved in with him. They got married like a year later, adopted a couple of kids. He never became an architect. He’s living that picture-perfect life that you call relationship goals. And I learned my lesson.”

“So that’s why you only do casual,” Beck says, sounding a little bewildered. “Because your first love dumped you?”

I huff. He makes it sound like I’m overreacting. He wasn’t there to see how utterly devastated I was after Aidan left. I could barely get out of bed some days. I loved him so much, and he tossed away four years of happiness like it was a half-eaten bagel. My voice hardens. “I only do casual because I finally grew up and realized that most so-called happy relationships are either bullshit or going to implode in some way.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Beck looks like I just admitted to kicking puppies and small children.

“Look, maybe the real thing happens once in a while. Do I want Pete and Jack to be happy? Sure. They deserve it. But it’s just too rare to think I have any chance of it. I don’t play the lottery, either.” Maybe I’m jaded, but it works for me.

Beck looks at me and I force myself to meet his gaze, worried I’m going to find pity there. His face is unreadable, for which I’m grateful, but then he puts a hand on my chest and says quietly, “You deserve it, too, you know.”

I open my mouth but say nothing. Apparently, I don’t have a comeback for that.

NINETEEN

BECK

It’s beena night of revelations, but the biggest one of all is how far out of my comfort zone I’m willing to go when it’s Donovan we’re talking about. I guess he really is my exception, because instead of letting my heartbreak over his story about his ex ruin both the mood and our night, I realize that maybe the best thing for both of us is to lighten things up.

“Anyway, that’s enough sharing and caring for now. You owe me a blow job,” I say, my voice brisk.

I thoroughly enjoyed having Donovan’s cock in my mouth earlier, but fair is fair, and if he wakes up in the morning and realizes he made a mistake by sleeping with me, I want to get my turn.

He widens his eyes, perhaps surprised that I’m turning the wheel 180 degrees, but then he licks his lips and winks at me. “I do, don’t I.”

A little belatedly, I realize I’m not exactly daisy fresh after everything we’ve done tonight. I’m about to offer to shower, but Donovan’s already moving, manhandling me to lie flat on the bed, arranging my arms over my head while nudging my legs slightly apart. Being moved around by him already has me plumping up, but then he licks a firm wet stripe from balls to crown and I get most of the way there. When he puts his mouth over the top of my cock and sucks—hard—I moan and clutch at the comforter and harden the rest of the way. Fuck. Looks like he picked up some tricks in his day, too.

It’s mostly easy to focus on the pure physical pleasure of bucking my hips into someone’s warm and willing mouth instead of on the relentless swirl of emotions that being with Donovan stirs up in me. But then he hums, and I glance down and see the glint in his eyes as he watches me watching him, and I know that as good as this feels, it’s only this good because it’s with him.

He’s not my exception.

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