Wet

I push my chair back. “I’m going to go check on Paddy.”

Dad nods.

When I get to his room his door is closed. I can’t believe that my older brother still lives at home. No wonder it’s hard for him to date. What kind of woman can be okay with that? I knock.

“It’s open.”

I step inside, and glance around. The Star Wars and anti-motivational posters of his younger years are gone, now replaced by world maps and posters from different countries. It takes some re-adjustment on my part even though the rest of the room looks pretty much the same. He turns and notices what I’m looking at.

I point to the pictures. “These are interesting. I don’t remember seeing them in here before.”

“No I put them up this year.”

“What’s with the maps and pictures from exotic places?”

“I really want to travel. I’ve got a plan to go somewhere different every year.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask surprised. Patrick never seemed the traveling type. “So where will you go first?”

“I just booked a trip in the fall to Morocco.”

This is a revelation. I never thought my brother had an adventurous spirit. “Wow. That’s so cool. Who are you going with?”

His gaze drops down to his computer screen and he skims his fingers back and forth over the keyboard. “No one. I’m going by myself.”

My stomach sinks. Why did I have to ask him that? “Well you know, what’s great about that is then no one can tell you what to do.”

He smiles, seeming to appreciate the encouragement. “Yeah, that’s what I told Ma and Dad.”

“Some people are a pain in the ass to travel with. I went with that girl Bethany to Vegas about five years ago, and when we got there all she wanted to do was shop. We had a big fight right in the middle of the Caesar’s Forum mall.”

His eyes grow wide. “Oh, that must have been awkward.”

“I’ll say. She stormed off, then locked me out of our hotel room, and I headed home early.”

“Oh man! Yeah, so if when I’m in Morocco, if I want to spend all day at Ben Youseef Madrasa no one can harp on me about it and then lock me out of the room.”

“Uh huh,” I agree, not asking for an explanation of this place he’s mentioned. Evidently he’s done a lot of research. I sit down on the edge of his bed. “Hey, Patrick? Can I ask you what happened with Elle?”

There’s a long pause while he stares into space. I’m almost ready to change the subject when he replies.

“I thought she was enjoying our date. She seemed to like the exhibit, but at the end of the afternoon, when I asked her out again, she said no.”

I can see the disappointment in his eyes and it makes me feel bad for him. “I’m sorry, dude. Did she say why?”

“She said I was a great guy but her heart already belonged to someone else. She was hoping we could be friends.”

My stomach sinks. Is it more serious than she’s been saying with the Viking? I thought he was only for sex. Maybe she hasn’t been straight with me.

Patrick looks oddly relieved by my reaction. “So you’re surprised?”

“Yeah, I am. She’s been seeing this guy, an architect for a few weeks, but I didn’t think she was that into him. I guess I was wrong.”

“So you talk to her a lot?”

“Well, we’re pretty good friends. Why?”

“Just wondering. She seems great. Why haven’t you asked her out?”

“When we first met I thought she was everything I needed to avoid.”

“She is really different than the girls you used to hang out with. What do you think about her now?”

“I think that we make great friends. And that’s probably a good thing since apparently the kind of guy she goes for isn’t anything like me.”

Patrick doesn’t respond but he looks deep in thought.

“Hey, Ma has the pound cake you like for dessert. Let’s go have some, okay?”

He nods and gets up. I pat him on the back, and ruffle his hair, all brotherly-like, before we walk down the hall.

His sandy brown hair is thick and the mess I’ve made of it gives him an edge. “You should always wear it that way,” I say. “Chicks like it like that . . . mark my word.”

“Okay,” Patrick says with a shy smile. He stops me right before we enter the dining room. “Hey, I’m sorry that Lourdes didn’t work out either.”

I nod. “Thanks, man.”

“Was she really that weird?”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You have no idea. Tell you what? Let’s go out for a drink next week and I’ll share the story.”

“I’d like that.”

Chapter Eight

SPIN CYCLE

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t stop thinking about her. Something about the idea of Elle in Maui is the sharp snap of a match being lit. I feel the wave of heat every time I think of her with him and it burns.

What if she really is in love with the Viking? I haven’t heard from her in three days. I start second guessing my decision not to sleep with her when I could have.

I can’t stop myself from imagining all the ways I would take her on the beach in Maui, rolling over the dunes and fucking her slow until every inch of our bodies was covered with sand. I’d drive her over the edge with the pounding waves drowning out our moans.

For hours after we would shake the sand out of our hair, and feel the burn of sex on our skin. I can almost smell the salt and faint whiff of coconut simmering off her warm body.

Just when I think I’m going to start shopping for airline tickets to the islands to steal her away from him, she texts me.

I can’t even Paulie . . .

What does that mean exactly?

I wish she’d called instead of texted. I really miss hearing her voice and all her little sighs.

I’m really relaxed and so tan, the most glorious bronze tone. And all this swimming has done wonders for my thighs and my ass is so tight . . . I may never return to the mainland.

I guess the trip has loosened her up again to toy with me.

Don’t be such a tease.

But I like teasing you.

Is that how it is? That’s cold.

No it isn’t . . . it’s hot. And furthermore I went and bought a teeny tiny white bikini today and I’m pretty sure I have never, nor will ever, look this good again. So you don’t just like me, if you could see me you’d want me. Badly. I’m certain your resistance over screwing me would crumble.

It’s hard to say if I would’ve crumbled since you aren’t around to show me.

Take my word for it.

Pictures or it never happened.

How can I shoot a full-length picture of myself? If I ask Stephan he will get suspicious.

Have you ever heard of those magic pieces of glass called mirrors? They work astounding well for full-length selfies.

Of course! What was I thinking! Give me 5 . . .

I pace back and forth across my living room until my phone finally pings. My fingers tremble as I press on the tiny jpeg of her and wait for it to go full size.

Oh. My. God.

I fall back into the armchair and brace my arms so I can study this picture indefinitely.

She texts when several minutes pass with no response from me.

Well?

You’re right.

About what specifically?

It’s a good thing you aren’t here.

Because . . .

That tiny bikini would be in tiny shreds on the floor.

Sigh. That’s so hot Paulie.

Well, you’re seriously hot. Surely you know this.

Mmm maybe. But I really like hearing you say it.

Something about the flirting in her texts is making me wild. It’s bad enough that just looking at her bikini shot has me all worked up, but her teasing has resulted an epic hard-on. It’s frustrating because I have to keep stopping fisting it to reply to her texts. Thank God for voice command on this phone, ’cause I want to just close my eyes and imagine her straddling me with her tits in my face as she grinds over me.