“What are we doing?” I question.
Will leads me straight to the hot tub, removes the cover without a word, and chews down on his bottom lip not to laugh, like even he knows what he’s about to say is bullshit.
“I heard hot tubs sober you up.”
He can’t be serious.
“I-I don’t even have a swimsuit.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “So? You have underwear on, don’t you?”
That’s the last thing he says before taking off his shirt and pants in front of me.
No heads-up.
He just strips.
I swear I can feel my throat tighten when I take in his hard, defined body. Even in the dim-lit backyard, my eyes effortlessly trace along the lines of his abs. Broad shoulders, strong pec—
Holy fuck, he has the V.
If you’re down to create a law that states William Martins has to be shirtless twenty-four seven, raise your hand.
He throws his T-shirt at me—probably for me to wear—but I’m so busy drooling over him that I jump out of my skin, failing to catch it. He laughs as I bend over to pick it up. I don’t know if he saw me eye-fuck him, but if he did, he doesn’t comment on it, which I’m immensely thankful for.
“Put it on if you want.” He gestures to the balled-up shirt in my hands.
I fold my arms over my chest. “This is BS. Hot tubs don’t sober you up.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. You sure as hell aren’t going to find out just standing there, are you?” He flashes me a cocky grin, slipping into the hot tub himself. Motion-activated blue lights come on, reflecting in the water.
“I don’t even feel high. Maybe I’m immune or something.”
He scoffs. “It’s only been twenty minutes. And that brownie was for a six-foot-five football player. Trust me, you’re going to feel it. Come on, live a little. Or… is fun against your control- freak lifestyle?”
The challenge in his voice eats away at me.
I can’t believe myself when I tell him to turn around and peel off my clothes to sling his T-shirt over my head. I tug at its extremities, relieved to see it covers everything it needs to, and usher myself to the tub, dipping my big toe into the sizzling water. I can’t help flinching at the temperature, accidentally brushing Will’s shoulder on my way in. The contact turns my stomach into a gigantic bag of knots.
What’s with me tonight?
Oh, you know, you just had a pot brownie the size of your hand.
I’m about to give Will some “You were saying?” attitude when it hits me.
Like a tornado.
Like a punch in the face.
My head starts to spin.
My whole body relaxes.
Shit…
I’m high.
“You did not.” I chortle so loud my own ears hate me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this annoying in my life. And the craziest part? I don’t even care. Being high is not as bad as I thought it would be, although I would never willingly put myself through this experience again.
I’ve spent the last thirty minutes laughing for no reason, putting on a killer show for Will, who seems to be having the time of his life roasting me.
“Why is it so hard for everyone to believe?” he argues.
“Because you’re… you. You’re Will, Willy, Willy Wonka.” I’m so proud of my new nickname for him I could high-five myself. “You’re the guy who shoves fries up his nose to make his friends laugh. You’re against relationships. So, working at a retirement home for a whole summer? Forgive me for having doubts.”
His face goes from amused to serious in a heartbeat. “What makes you think I’m against relationships?”
I’m a bit taken aback. “Gee, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you’ve never been in one?”
There was a rumor going around school these past few weeks. Something about a cheerleader having a massive crush on him. Last I heard, he let her down easy. Almost makes you wonder if he ever… gets lucky. I mean, a guy has needs, right?
“I’m not against relationships. I think they can be good.” His eyes meet mine. “Just not for me.”
Silence ensues.
I snort. “Deep.”
He fights a smile. “Shut up.”
“Let me guess, Willy’s afraid of commitment?”
“It’s not that I’m afraid of it, I’m just not…” He pauses. “Interested in it. Feels kind of pointless to me. Like it would only make my life more complicated. Plus, aren’t relationships just watching someone slowly get sick of you anyway?”
His last question bounces around in my head. That’s exactly what my father used to say. Also what I’ve been saying since my disastrous breakup with Blake. The difference is, in my case, I’ve always known this was nothing but a temporary feeling. I can’t imagine feeling like this forever.
A life without love?
That’s way too sad.
“Man, you must be horny all the time if you think that way.”
Smirking, he stares me dead in the eyes and says, “I said I don’t do love, control freak. I never said I don’t fuck.”
My cheeks combust.
I’m so unfamiliar with the way these words make me feel I’m tempted to sink underwater to try and wash the blush off me. I swear if I could hold my breath without dying, I’d be gone by now. So, he has meaningless hookups? Is he good? I wonder if he has a big…
Heart.
“So, you’re a hit it once and quit it kind of guy. Noted.”
“Eh. More like hit it again and again, then quit it,” he shamelessly admits.
I wonder if he’s better than Blake.
Probably.
Everybody’s better than Blake.
“What can I say? They always come back for more,” he says as a joke, but I know it’s true.
Well, he sure is honest.
“Must be nice. Never getting attached.”
“It’s not that hard, really. I don’t understand why it’s so difficult for some girls to differentiate sex and love.”
“Spoken like a guy who’s never been in a relationship.”
His smile falters for a split second.
Oh, don’t think I didn’t catch that, Willy.
“Who was it?”
“Who?” he asks.
“The girl who broke your heart.”
He arches an eyebrow. “How can you be so sure someone broke my heart?”
“Easy. The broken things don’t break on their own.”
He laughs. “Did you just call me a thing?”
“Yep. Because that’s what you are. A thing. An object. You don’t feel,” I tease, gliding shoulders-deep into the water.
He mock gasps.
“That’s not true.”
A beat of silence.
“Sometimes I get hungry.”
I break into a fit of chuckles, accidentally getting water into my mouth and choking because I’m classy like that.
“Sorry, not fooling me. Don’t you know? Those who pretend not to care, care too much.” I stick a finger in his direction.
“Spoken like a true hopeless romantic,” he scoffs, using my own lines against me.
Annoyed, I splash him. He returns the favor. We go back and forth for a while. It’s all fun and games until I realize we’re sitting side by side. We were on opposite ends of the tub five seconds ago.