Page 20 of The Player Penalty
“I’m not wearing a swimsuit.”
“You have a bra on. That’ll work.”
Julian, seeing my undergarments? Going into the ocean?
“There’s no lifeguard on duty. Plus, there might be sharks in the water.” Also, there must be at least a hundred other reasons why we shouldn’t.
“Are you afraid?” he asks with an amused laugh and then stops. “Please don’t be.” His voice grows deeper and more intimate.
I grow more afraid. “You don’t understand. I’ve never been.”
“You’ve never been in the ocean before?” he asks, not believing me.
I want to leave. “It’s late. We should go.”
I stand, and he follows. “We aren’t leaving. I’ll stay next to you, and you can hold on to me the entire time.” Julian removes his clothes right in front of me, so I’m torn between running away and watching him like some sneaky child. His shirt and pants are quickly gone, so he’s wearing nothing but boxer briefs.
I pointedly ignore his chest.
“I’ll turn around,” he says. “Look at me being a perfect gentleman. Don’t tell anyone; it’ll ruin my reputation. People will start thinking I’m a good person, and we can’t have that.”
He is a good person. “Don’t look. No peaking.”
What am I doing?
“My eyes are shut.”
This is stupid. We’ll get in trouble, and I’ll suffer my dad’s continued disappointment. He tries to hide it but gets frustrated with my struggles sometimes.
The zipper is louder than a helicopter. My dress slides next to his clothes, and I put a hand over my breasts.
“Take my hand,” Julian offers.
I accept, and then stupidly, like a pair of matching idiots, we’re walking into the ocean. The waves hit my ankles and then my shins and knees.
“Hold on to me.” I grip his arm. “You won’t crush me. Hold on.” He grabs my arms, putting them around his waist. “Almost to your hips.”
“Don’t let go.”
“I won’t.” Julian’s spread legs anchor us both. “I won’t ever let you go. I promise.”
8-Julian
Daytona International Speedway
I run through the trailer, sticking the wine glasses and breakfast plate in the dishwasher. My clothes still sit on the living area’s floor, so they go in the hamper. A pair of women’s panties are discarded in the trash. I stare down at them before placing several paper towels over the evidence.
Lily won’t care; if anything, she’ll call me a name and change the subject. The only judgment is mine. A tight coil of disgust sits in my stomach. That, and something else I don’t recognize. Lily is finally coming, and all I know is she doesn’t need to see them.
Quals and practice are done, so the evening is mine.
Ours.
Lily: I’m here, and I’m lost. Dad is with Boone at an owner’s meeting.
Julian: Where are you?
Lily: Lost.
