Beads of sweat dripped down my forehead onto the ‘VISIT PERTH’ towel I had bought at the airport.
Wiping the moisture away was pointless. For every droplet I wiped away, three took its place, as if my sweat glands were out of control. Damp sand stuck to my arms and legs like a cheap, sun-baked exfoliation body mask.
In short, I looked and felt disgusting.
“I need to cool off in the water,” I announced. Evan was sweaty too, but his version of sweaty was hot.
He set his book down in the sand and wiped his forehead, leaving a trail of sand behind. We exchanged glances, nodded once, and ran into the water of the previously tranquil cove. Salt stung my eyes through my lids, but it was worth the pain.
I immediately cooled down; more importantly, I was beside Evan, who surfaced like Poseidon himself emerging from the depths.
I tore my eyes away, not wanting to ogle my temporary, godlike roommate, but I saw him give me a once-over too. I hoped it was for the right reason.
In a certain light, my scars showed through the rose tattoo covering them, and I was in a beach mood, not a talk-about-my-problems mood.
“You’re a lot of fun, Sophie,” Evan said.
A wide, probably idiotic smile lit my face.
“So are you,” I shot back.
He grinned, and I grinned back, loving the way the right-hand side corner of his smile lifted a little higher than the other, compensating for the dimple on his left cheek.
His lashes were thick and beautiful over his sparkling eyes. I watched his hand lift, almost as if he were about to touch me, only to drop down at his side. His smile turned sheepish.
As happy as I was that he felt the attraction as well, I was a tad relieved that he chose not to touch me, because that meant Evan didn’t grope people when the mood struck.
“We should reapply sunscreen when we dry off,” he suggested. “We’re too Irish for these rays.”
I opened my mouth to ask him how the heck he knew about my ancestry, but he answered the question before I could get it out. “Your last name’s Callahan.”
Yeah, I suppose Callahan is distinctly Irish. “Good guess, Flaherty,” I replied.
He took a mock bow. “Ready for sunscreen?”
I was ready for his hands all over my back. Also, I could feel my face starting to burn. “Ready.”
We glanced at each other simultaneously. “Back?” he offered, almost as a request.
“Back,” I acquiesced, nodding.
“I have some on my hands. I’ll get you first,” Evan said.
With a “thank you!” I turned around and felt him spread leftover sunscreen on my shoulders. I wasn’t thrilled about the secondhand sunscreen, but I loved the feeling of his hands on my bare skin.
His palms were rough but gentle. He slopped on more lotion and rubbed it into my thirsty skin. He lingered. He could have been done by the time he finished applying a coat to my right shoulder blade, but he wasn’t.
He took his sweet time. When he’d gotten everywhere, he went ahead and started over again, applying more to my already sun-protected shoulders.
I loved it, but after a few minutes had passed I peered over my shoulder, worried he was about to start burning if I didn’t return the sunscreen favor soon. “I think you got everywhere,” I said. “Want me to get yours?”
“Uh…” Evan’s voice trailed off.
That’s when I realized, Evan had a boner.
The man had gone from six o’clock to midnight over the course of the SPF application. It was more than obvious. His red bathing suit bottoms resembled a circus tent. A marquee.
He had a full-fledged erection from rubbing sunscreen on my back. My eyes flitted south, and when they rose they found Evan’s eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” he burst out. “It just… I’m not… It’s a guy thing, kind of, um…”
“No big deal,” I assured him, doing my best not to gawk. “Well, it’s big, but the deal part isn’t.”
His face was as red as his trunks.
“I’m so sorry. It’s obviously been a while with, uh, traveling and hostels and stuff. I’m trying to think about old ladies and baseball, but it’s, you know, persistent.”
“There’s a bathroom by the showers over there,” I said, pointing. “You could always, you know, take care of it if you need to.”
He buried his face in his hands, groaning. “No way. I’d feel like such a creep. I can’t… ugh!”
“Well, it’s pretty secluded over here,” I replied with a shrug.
He gaped at me.
“Jerk off,” I suggested. “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”
His eyes widened. “Sophie, this is a public beach.”
“No one’s around.” It was true. The nearest people were in the secluded cove next to ours. We were, in a word, secluded.
“I’ll stand guard,” I offered.
“No, I…” He shook his head in disbelief.
“Let’s talk about gross stuff, then,” I proposed. “Imagine the wrinkliest, oldest man in the world wearing a transparent Speedo.”
He groaned. “It won’t go away if you’re talking.”
That confused me. “Why?”
“You have a hot voice, Sophie,” he wailed. Then to himself he mumbled, “I’m going to be homeless tonight.”
“You won’t be homeless,” I promised. “Want me to take care of it?”
“I’m serious.” I was. His dick intrigued me.
His eyeballs rolled upward, slightly. “You can’t say things like that.”
I held out my arm. “May I?”
Evan just blinked.
“Evan, I have an idea, but I need you to consent first.”
He nodded, but that wasn’t enough.
“Verbal consent,” I clarified.
“Yes,” he choked out.
I covered our laps with a towel, just in case the seclusion came to an unexpected end, and ran my palm up the front of his bathing suit. He was hard as a rock. “Mmm…Evan…,” I whispered.
He groaned and cursed under his breath.
I decided to pull down his trunks, figuring he wouldn’t want things to get all messy inside. I stroked the smooth skin, careful to tease his tip with my thumb.
That always drove the last guy I was seeing wild, and it worked pretty darn well on Evan too. He groaned a little louder. His head tilted back, and I continued. A mere ten strokes later, he was moaning that he was close.
“I want you to come, Evan,” I whispered.
And he did. All over my hand, in our secluded little cove.
“Are things going to be awkward now?” Evan asked between licks of vanilla gelato.
“Not unless we make them awkward,” I replied. I was trying to appear nonchalant, but Evan’s dick was on my mind. Stuck there, front and center, as in my face as his circus tent earlier.
“I don’t know how not to make them awkward,” he muttered.
“You could get me off later,” I suggested.
It was the kind of joke that was a joke unless the other person took it seriously and was on board, in which case it was a serious proposition.
Evan laughed. “I thought I was done with random boners after seventh grade.”
I was a bit offended. “Hey! It wasn’t completely random. I’m not that bad looking.”
His cheeks flushed pink. “I meant a boner in a non-sexual situation,” he clarified. “You definitely aren’t bad looking, Sophie.”
“Thank you, Evan. You aren’t bad looking either,” I told him.
He murmured something under his breath I couldn’t hear but was very curious about, since the topic was likely myself, his dick, or a combination of the two.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, nothing,” he shook his head. “So, what’s in store for you when you go back to the US?”
I decided to let the hasty subject change pass just this once. His cheeks were quite ruddy.
“No idea,” I replied honestly. “I just got my master’s in cybersecurity, so I’ll probably do something in the field. What about you?”
“I have a job waiting at the real estate company my dad owns. Kind of a nepotism thing, but anyway, cybersecurity’s cool. What got you into that?”
I let my nerd flag fly for a bit, talking about the two thousand sixteen election and how it had piqued my interest in national security, specifically cybersecurity.
I’ve never been embarrassed to be a computer geek. Maybe I would have been if I were born a generation ago, but being a nerd is a good thing these days. Nerdiness means employment and passion.
“That’s awesome!” Evan exclaimed when I finally wrapped up telling him about my thesis. “I want to read it, but I’m afraid I won’t understand it.”
“You won’t,” I replied.
Noticing a tiny flash of hurt light up his features, I clarified, “It’s written for people who have a background in computer science. My brother’s an attorney and couldn’t get past the first couple pages.”
Evan nodded understandingly. “I thought you were calling me stupid for a second there,” he laughed.
“Nah. Unless your last name is Trump, you have to be pretty smart to get into real estate,” I commented. I was serious.
Finance and economics never came easy to me. In undergrad, I had to take an economics course for my minor in political science, and I got a C.
Evan laughed, which was a relief.
If he had been offended by my Trump joke, I’d have kicked him to the curb. Literally. He would have been on the street.
“Well, thank you,” he replied, shaking his head. “I’m not passionate about it the way you are with your field, but it’s steady income, the schedule is flexible, and the benefits are pretty good.”
I nodded. I understood that. My college roommate Sarah had the same perspective on work.
She graduated with a bachelor’s in English because she loved to read and accepted the first job she was offered, an analyst role in the marketing department for a major supermarket’s corporate office.
The job was boring, but the workweek never exceeded forty hours, the pay was decent, and she received health insurance and a ton of vacation days.
Her passion was photography, and since she didn’t work crazy hours she could spend all her free time doing what she loved. The marketing job was just a way to sustain her hobby and lifestyle.
“Would you be a real estate agent?” I asked.
Evan shook his head. “No, thank God. I think I’d lose my mind if I had to sell shit all day. The job is more back-office, making sure properties are compliant with safety standards, working on the financials…all the boring stuff.”
“That does sound quite boring,” I admitted.
He nodded. “Definitely. Well, if the company gets hacked, I know who to call.”
“You’ve got connections before you even start,” I joked. It wasn’t even funny, but Evan laughed, and I very much appreciated that.
I very much appreciated everything about Evan. Dick, demeanor, and all. Every last thing.
