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replied without apology.
    “Any other physical activity?” he asked with an eye roll.

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    Erin Nicholas
    She opened her mouth and he pinned her with a hard stare.
    “It is way too early in the morning for me to deal with you talking about sex, so don’t even go there.” She considered that. He was affected by her talking about sex. She could live with that one simple victory for now.
    “I like to bike.” As soon as she said it, she regretted it. “Sometimes. On occasion. Rarely,” she added quickly.
    It was too late.
    “We’ll bike up and down the path that runs along the beach,” he said.
    “I don’t feel good, Mac.” She knew she sounded whiny. “You go and I’ll meet you later.”
    “Exercise will make you feel better. You’ll sweat out all the junk and get your blood pumping.”
    “That sounds like one of those stupid things people who like to exercise say.”
    “You don’t like to exercise?”
    She raised an eyebrow. “What’s to like? You sweat, you breathe hard, you get tired and sore.” Mac shook his head and stepped through the door. She was immediately overcome by the idea Mac was in her bedroom. Mac had never been inside her bedroom. She’d never even been to his apartment.
    He’d been to her place several times, even slept on her couch twice, though it had been a while since then.
    They interacted in the homes of their friends, or public places like the youth center and the hospital. It was strange she’d never thought about that before, but now it seemed very intimate having him so near a bed she’d slept in.
    She liked it.
    “Sara, doesn’t it ever bother you to completely live up to every stereotype that has made us call you princess since you were twelve?”
    She thought about that for a moment. “I’ve never taken it as an insult.” He walked to the edge of the still-rumpled bed, stared for a moment, then took a seat in the desk chair.
    “It was never meant to be an insult,” he agreed. “At first it was just funny, then it just stuck. Because it fit.”
    “Which means you’ll totally understand if I say no to the biking. Sweat and I don’t get along well, not to mention being out in the sun too long. I burn easily.” His eyes took in how much skin she had showing, even under the pink paint. At that reminder, she felt her heart rate speed up. Suddenly she could think of a few reasons she could get used to sweating.
    “You were out—dressed in nearly nothing—yesterday on the beach.” She shook her head. “I didn’t go out in the sunlight for more than a few minutes until after dusk.”
    “Ever heard of sunscreen?”
    “Ever heard of skin cancer?”
    “Ever heard of wearing clothes that cover…things…up?”
    “Ever had a sunburn?”
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    Just My Type
    He paused. “I don’t think so. Nothing bad anyway.”
    “Well, they can hurt like hell. Then they itch and peel. Not to mention the freckles. No thank you.” Mac stretched his legs out and folded his hands on his stomach. “You’re pretty mouthy for a girl with a hangover.”
    “I’m feeling a little better.” She realized it was true.
    “Drink the Gatorade. Take a shower. Then we’re going out.”
    “I’m not biking. Or running. Or rock climbing,” she said on her way to the bathroom.
    “How about snorkeling?”
    “Ew.” She stopped by the vanity and exchanged the Gatorade for a brush. “Seaweed, fish poop, mud.” Mac chuckled. “These are some of the most beautiful waters in the world. You’re going to pass up the chance to see coral and fish and…”
    “I have the Discovery Channel,” she said, trying to brush through a particularly bad knot of hair.
    She turned and faced the mirror. And froze. No ! She was a mess. Her makeup was smudged, her hair was a disaster, the pink paint was smeared all over, and her eyes were bloodshot. This was a fantastic way to entice Mac into bed. Puke on him and then greet him the morning after