Page 56 of Until August
I was watching the moonlit ocean, minding my own business, and thinking about Sage when the girls approached with a lit joint and offered it to me. I declined and moved to a different spot on the beach, closer to the rocks that buffeted the winds.
I was hoping they’d take the hint and leave me alone. No such luck. They moved into my line of vision and danced to Morrissey while sticking their tongues down each other’s throats. Guess they thought that made them edgy and cool.
They couldn’t have been older than eighteen or nineteen.
“I’m Poppy,” the girl with silver hair said. Her skin glowed like alabaster in the moonlight, and the hem of her oversized flannel flapped in the breeze. Underneath, she wore tiny shorts and a crop top. “We’d be totally up for a threesome. Right, Daria?” She looked to her friend for confirmation.
“Mmhmm. It’s a full moon,” Daria, the emo chick with black hair and a septum piercing, pointed out. “And you’re hot.”
“Not interested.”
“We could make itsogood for you.” Poppy dropped to the sand and crawled to me on her hands and knees, purring like a kitten. I’d seen her around the hostel, so I knew she was pretty, with pouty lips and skin kissed by youth’s glow.
She reminded me of a fragile doll.Breakable. Like Sasha at eighteen.
But I wasn’t twenty-one anymore, and teenage girls held little appeal.
Before I could stop it, her hand coasted up my thigh. I shoved it away before she reached my crotch and stood to go. Something I should have done earlier. “You’ve got the wrong guy. I don’t have sex with schoolgirls.”
Poppy chased me to the wooden staircase and called to me, but her words got lost in the wind as I jogged up the stairs. When I reached the top of the stairs, Nicola called.
Now, in the light of day, I knew two things for certain.
One—I needed to get my own place.
Two—I needed to stop getting a boner like a thirteen-year-old boy every time Nicola brushed past me or smiled or evenbreathedin my direction.
I would blame it on five years of abstinence if I didn’t know better.
When those girls offered sex, my dick hadn’t even stirred. Nothing. Not even a twitch.
When Ari batted her lashes and put her hand on my thigh… Nada. Zilch.
Wasn’t it just like me to want the one woman who was off-limits?
Nicola’s husband might be gone for all intents and purposes, but he was still very much a part of her life, and I didn’t think she was ready to move on with someone new.
Not that I was looking for a relationship. I had no interest in going down that road again.
Love hurt like a motherfucker, and I couldn’t put my heart on the line again.
But even casual sex was a veritable minefield.
No two ways around it. Nicola would feel guilty. And I already had enough shit to deal with without adding another complication to the mix. Not to mention that we worked together. Correction.Iworked forher.
How much more incentive did I need to stay away?
None.
With a firm resolve to keep our relationship strictly professional, I walked through the service entrance into the dim hallway. Crates of produce and vacuum-sealed packs of meat in cardboard boxes lined the entryway. I tossed a fifty-pound bag of granulated sugar over my shoulder and carried it to the kitchen. Empty. No Nicola.
It was quiet except for the hum of the refrigeration units. The stainless steel gleamed. Steel pots and pans sat neatly in their places, split between the different stations. Columns of white china ran the length of the pass, stowed on shelves beneath the countertop.
I scanned today’s prep lists dangling from the ticket rack above each station and scratched my head, trying to decipher Luca’s shorthand. It was like trying to crack a computer code. But, luckily, he understood it.
I added a note at the bottom in all caps: SHARPEN YOUR BLADES. SHALLOTS SHOULD BEFINELYDICED
After I wrote notes for each cook, I sorted through the produce—heirloom tomatoes, tender stem broccoli, potatoes, and carrots with the soil clinging to them—then grabbed my clipboard from the office. The sheaf of papers was thick, each one containing to-do lists, emails to send, calls to make, and items to order.
