Page 16 of Faking Summer
I turned away from everyone, ignoring Reese's smoldering presence. Instead, I took a breath and leaned over the balcony, gazing down into the below.
"Alright, let's get this party started then," Reese said as he began to strip off his shirt and pants on his way inside. Soon he was standing there in nothing but his low-slung, brand-name boxers. Crew scooped Sam into his arms. She laughed and held on tight, as they followed behind Reese.
I trailed behind them, my gaze inexplicably drawn to Reese's retreating form. His back was a canvas of defined, tanned muscles shifting and flexing with each step—obvious proof of how hard he worked on and off the pitcher's mound. When he turned, the sight of his sculpted torso sent an unbidden surge of heat through me. His six-pack was infuriatingly perfect, and I caught myself staring, transfixed by the hard lines that seemed to lead—sinfully—down to his waistband.
Oh, no not the fanny flutters. What was wrong with me? I silently scolded myself until they disappeared. Reese was trouble—every woman in Bayside knew that. I had personally experienced my own trauma from this jerk. And worse, he knew what he was doing when he set me up to be the punchline of a cruel joke. My first dance should have been magical, but I was humiliated. The laughter still echoed in my mind, a tormenting sound that played on repeat. It was more than just a prank or a momentary lapse of judgment on his part. He had stolen something from me that night, took away some of my innocence and trust. He wasn’t the only reason I kept most people at arm’s length, but he was part of the reason I was colder. And here I was, struggling to remember why I should look away.
Reese slid into the steaming bath effortlessly, setting the whiskey bottle on the narrow shelf just behind him. He leaned back, arms draped casually over the edge. Sam and Crew were still focused on each other as she slipped off her robe. Their contagious laughter filled the small space as they sank into the bubbling water. They seemed lost in their own little universe, nestled together in the corner.
I slid the hotel robe off, hanging it on the wall hook. Reese's gaze lingered on me, heavy and intense, like a palpable thing that seemed to draw all heat in the room toward me. There was a quiet sort of shock there, like he hadn’t expected me to actually pull off a swimsuit. He grabbed the whisky bottle slowly, eyes still on me. He swallowed hard after taking a sip, the gulping sound obvious in the suffocating stillness. His Adam's apple bobbed, annoying me even more. Why did I think that was so hot?
"Wow," he breathed in a husky whisper, almost like he was holding something back.
With deliberate nonchalance, I descended into the jacuzzi, his gaze still assaulting me. "What?" I asked, melting into the water. "You act like this is the first time you've seen a woman in a bikini."
His lips parted in a slow grin, his tongue teasingly sweepingacross them. "Not the first time," he drawled. "Just the first time seeingyouin one."
A fluttering broke free in my chest, I couldn’t stop it.Don't let those green eyes fool you, don't fall for the charm or the dimples.This was Bayside's most notorious bad boy, and I knew it.
My skin prickled, and not just from the bubbling jets. "Well, it's just a bikini," I said, aiming for casualness, though my voice weakened just a little under his stare.
"Maybe on the hanger," he drawled, his lips curving into a devilish grin. "On you? It's something else entirely."
"We’re just keeping the peace tonight," I snapped, watching his eyes dip below the water. "You don’t have to overdo it."
"Chaos," he murmured, his voice a sinful rumble, "when I agree to something, I go all in.”
I turned my attention back to Sam and Crew, catching the tail end of what seemed to be a heated debate.
“She was in a happy relationship,” Sam insisted, sliding back against one of the jets.
“But she had no girl code, so why would the girls keep her safe?” Crew questioned, arguing back.
“Because she was in love and that should matter most.” Sam flicked water at Crew, and he grabbed her hand to stop her.
“The trick to winning Love Mountain is the friendships… you just hope to find love in the process,” Reese said, surprising everyone. He didn’t seem like the type to sit and watch a reality show.
Before I could comment, the disturbing sound of intense kissing took over. Out of nowhere, Crew and Sam were lip-locked in a kiss, suddenly making me feel like an intruder.
Reese must have felt it, too, because he glanced at them before turning back to me. "Balcony?" he asked, creating an escape plan from this awkwardness.
I nodded, wordless, and followed him out. Slipping the robe over my damp skin, I felt it cling to every curve, a soft cover that did littleto shield me from Reese's unrelenting gaze. He casually draped Sam's robe over his shoulders to cover himself up.
The night air brushed against my skin as we stepped out onto the balcony, the door shutting behind us with a click. Underneath the dark sky, the town stretched out before us. Reese stood close—too close. But, his presence wasn’t as unsettling as it usually was. For a fleeting second, I allowed myself to relish the tranquility of the elevated view, the soft breeze that played with strands of my hair, trying my best to forget about the man I was stuck here with. I leaned against the cool metal railing of the balcony, people watching. Reese—the definition of walking trouble—was momentarily lost in the view below, too.
"Watch that one." Reese nodded towards a girl teetering carefully on high heels, trying her best to find any balance she could. "She's going down."
She wobbled like a newborn deer on ice as I snickered at the scene below us.
"Three... two... one..." And just like a scripted fall, her heels betrayed her, snagging on a sidewalk crack. She slowly fell to the ground. Her friends' screams were over-dramatic before they erupted into a chorus of giggles, helping her back to her unsteady feet.
"Spot on," I admitted, though it irked me to do so.
"Always am," Reese replied, with that cocky arrogance that infuriated me. A dimple flashed in his cheek, an unfair addition to his charm.
A hush fell over us punctuated only by the distant murmur of nightlife and the occasional laughter below. Then our gaze shifted downwards again in unison as two figures drew our attention. Boston and Chandler, hand in hand, their fingers laced together in a way that was grossly intimate, but somehow it still felt like a slap to the face. We watched them until they disappeared into the hotel lobby beneath us. Something neither of us should have seen.
There had been something between Boston and me last summer—a real connection, even if it was never given the chance to fully bloom. It stung more than I cared to admit—the realization that I had gambled on a nice guy, only to find myself discarded for someone else, someone who perhaps fit more seamlessly into his world.
