our parents right now.”
Wes tucked his phone back into his bag, strode over to the pool and cannonballed through the surface. Once the ripples settled, Abel pushed off the wall to start the warm-up. Wes darted after him, determined to cut the distance between them. He knew Abel would crush him today during the pool training, subpar shoulder and all; he was exhausted. Because of sex with Lana. Because of Lana. Who hasn’t called. Wes tapped the wall, flipped and pressed for the other side with powerful strokes, hoping the strain in his body would clear his head. Abel was waiting with a smug look as he sat on the edge of the pool.
“Pathetic, Wesley.”
“I know. So tired.” Wincing from the muscle fatigue, Wes pushed up to sit next to him. “I didn’t really plan to be out that late last night, but I met this girl…we had sex…and then we hung out some more before we left.”
“You went back to her place?” Abel gave a dismissive gesture to Ian, who was signaling for them to get back into the water.
“Nope....” He pulled his arm across his chest, stretching out the muscles. “…Restroom.”
“You banged a girl in the bathroom at Vices? That’s so nasty, dude.” Abel scrunched his nose. “I’m so fucking jealous.” He nudged Wes hard in the ribs. “Wait…is that who you were checking your phone for? A one-night stand? You don’t want them to call, baby bro.”
“Come on, guys!” Ian’s demanding, thundering claps echoed around them. “Ten by fifty, let’s go!”
“Whatever, dude,” Wes said. He couldn’t imagine a complete twenty-four hours going by without some kind of contact from her. Why do you care about this? Because she was awesome and so was last night. And because it’s me, so she has to call. He wanted to know it had been great for her, too. Since when did he not leave a lasting impression?
But since when did he fret over a chick?
“She’s cool?”
“Yeah, dude. Good taste in music. Knows about surfing, too. Funny. Gorgeous. Just so herself, it seems.” As much as he tried to dampen his own excitement about her, he suspected Abel knew him well enough to see right through it.
He smirked. “I’ll make sure to attend the wedding. You want a blender or toaster?”
“Shut up.” Dreading how much he’d be hurting later, Wes dropped down into the water and set the timer on his waterproof watch. He hated the two minute, ten by fifty meter sprints, but there was no way he was about to let Abel beat him and then smirk like an asshole from the edge of the pool again. Abel slipped in next to him with a mysterious and cunning smile on his face.
“Your Rebel board. I want it,” he said. Abel was setting up a bet.
“Seriously? You mean the one that looks just like yours? And you really want to race me with a bum shoulder?” Wes scoffed, but he had never turned down a bet from his brother since they were nine years old, even after falling out of a tree and breaking his arm when climbing it for the offer of his brother’s allowance for two weeks.
Abel nodded and set the timer on his watch. “Chicken shit.”
“Okay, douche. You get my Rebel board if you win and I get…those retro Nikes you just bought,” Wes challenged, and he noticed the hesitation in Abel’s body language. He was a sneaker fanatic, but he wouldn’t back down, either. “Deal?”
Abel nodded. “Ian, you call whoever touches the wall first!”
After Ian walked to the end of the pool and blew his whistle, Wes kicked off with the confidence that not only would he be wearing those sneakers tonight, but also that Lana’s missed call would be waiting when he got out of the pool.
Except she didn’t call the entire week—not even on Tuesday, the day of their original plans. And on Saturday evening, while he and Kiera were halfheartedly watching one of the Fast and
Wes tucked his phone back into his bag, strode over to the pool and cannonballed through the surface. Once the ripples settled, Abel pushed off the wall to start the warm-up. Wes darted after him, determined to cut the distance between them. He knew Abel would crush him today during the pool training, subpar shoulder and all; he was exhausted. Because of sex with Lana. Because of Lana. Who hasn’t called. Wes tapped the wall, flipped and pressed for the other side with powerful strokes, hoping the strain in his body would clear his head. Abel was waiting with a smug look as he sat on the edge of the pool.
“Pathetic, Wesley.”
“I know. So tired.” Wincing from the muscle fatigue, Wes pushed up to sit next to him. “I didn’t really plan to be out that late last night, but I met this girl…we had sex…and then we hung out some more before we left.”
“You went back to her place?” Abel gave a dismissive gesture to Ian, who was signaling for them to get back into the water.
“Nope....” He pulled his arm across his chest, stretching out the muscles. “…Restroom.”
“You banged a girl in the bathroom at Vices? That’s so nasty, dude.” Abel scrunched his nose. “I’m so fucking jealous.” He nudged Wes hard in the ribs. “Wait…is that who you were checking your phone for? A one-night stand? You don’t want them to call, baby bro.”
“Come on, guys!” Ian’s demanding, thundering claps echoed around them. “Ten by fifty, let’s go!”
“Whatever, dude,” Wes said. He couldn’t imagine a complete twenty-four hours going by without some kind of contact from her. Why do you care about this? Because she was awesome and so was last night. And because it’s me, so she has to call. He wanted to know it had been great for her, too. Since when did he not leave a lasting impression?
But since when did he fret over a chick?
“She’s cool?”
“Yeah, dude. Good taste in music. Knows about surfing, too. Funny. Gorgeous. Just so herself, it seems.” As much as he tried to dampen his own excitement about her, he suspected Abel knew him well enough to see right through it.
He smirked. “I’ll make sure to attend the wedding. You want a blender or toaster?”
“Shut up.” Dreading how much he’d be hurting later, Wes dropped down into the water and set the timer on his waterproof watch. He hated the two minute, ten by fifty meter sprints, but there was no way he was about to let Abel beat him and then smirk like an asshole from the edge of the pool again. Abel slipped in next to him with a mysterious and cunning smile on his face.
“Your Rebel board. I want it,” he said. Abel was setting up a bet.
“Seriously? You mean the one that looks just like yours? And you really want to race me with a bum shoulder?” Wes scoffed, but he had never turned down a bet from his brother since they were nine years old, even after falling out of a tree and breaking his arm when climbing it for the offer of his brother’s allowance for two weeks.
Abel nodded and set the timer on his watch. “Chicken shit.”
“Okay, douche. You get my Rebel board if you win and I get…those retro Nikes you just bought,” Wes challenged, and he noticed the hesitation in Abel’s body language. He was a sneaker fanatic, but he wouldn’t back down, either. “Deal?”
Abel nodded. “Ian, you call whoever touches the wall first!”
After Ian walked to the end of the pool and blew his whistle, Wes kicked off with the confidence that not only would he be wearing those sneakers tonight, but also that Lana’s missed call would be waiting when he got out of the pool.
Except she didn’t call the entire week—not even on Tuesday, the day of their original plans. And on Saturday evening, while he and Kiera were halfheartedly watching one of the Fast and
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