“Uh, no.” I felt my face heat in the dark. I knew what I was and straight wasn’t it.
Charlie chuckled softly. It made my stomach feel funny. Like there were a million bees inside of it trying to get out. “Or maybe a boyfriend then?” He leaned closer. He smelled like a warm summer day. Suntan lotion and the beach. Like salty waves mixed with coconuts.
“I don’t... no.” I ducked my head so he couldn’t see the way I blushed under his gaze.
Charlie wasn’t a boy. Charlie was a man, and I was the eighteen-year-old kid from North Carolina who had no clue what he was doing. A hick from the sticks. That’s what I always called myself because I thought it was funny. Now I felt stupid and childish. I had been the only boy in my class who lived in a trailer park. The only one without a dad, although it looked like that would be changing, and even though I was good at racing cars around a track, I wasn’t good enough to go pro. I wasn’t going to be a Rand Shepard or a Mason Pelletier.
Charlie nudged my shoulder with his. “Dating is overrated. Play the field. That’s what I always say.”
I let my eyes move to where he had placed his bottle of beer and watched as he lifted it from the sand. He had long fingers. Was it weird that I noticed that, or was it justsomething else to latch onto? Something else to find fascinating about Charlie. I did that a lot. Latched on to men I had no business latching on to. He was probably straight and had a girlfriend and a job. Wasn’t interested in this hick from North Carolina.
“I’ve never dated anyone before.” My face burned under the glow of the fire.
Charlie dropped another log into the fire before he looked at me. “Nothing wrong with that either, Jones.”
“There isn’t?”
“When you meet the right person, you’ll know.”
I liked how Charlie saidperson. I was pretty boring, though. Never kissed anyone, smoked a cigarette, or tasted liquor. “Maybe.”
“We could go have some fun tomorrow. If you’re not busy. You could show me around,” he suggested.
I tried not to shout with joy. “I could?” I nearly swallowed my own tongue at the thought of what he meant. Did he mean sex or just normal fun? Because my penis was all in.
Charlie smiled. With sharp cheekbones and a jawline to cut glass with, he could be a model with those good looks. “Sure, I mean, what do you do for fun? Go boating or spend your day here at the beach? Go fishing? Oh, we could get tattoos. That sounds like a good time.” He winked at me when I gasped.
“Mama would be so horrified if I came home with a tattoo, Charlie.”
“You’re close with your mom.”
I nodded. “Sure am. She’s one of my best friends.”
Was it wrong that she was? She had raised me herself. Worked two jobs, bought a doublewide, and sure, the neighbors had helped watch me, too, but Mama had done good with what she was given. Now she was going to get married and forget all about me.
“That’s sweet.” Charlie took a sip of his beer. “You sure you don’t want one?”
I chewed on my bottom lip. “I’ve never had alcohol before.” I sounded like a parrot, repeating myself over and over.
“Let me pop your cherry then, Jones.”
I flushed at his choice of words. He basically knew I was a virgin. My friends knew I had never had sex or kissed anyone. I wondered what Charlie would think if I told him I was gay. He had asked if I had a boyfriend. Charlie grinned at me, then dug around in the cooler to produce a bottle.
It wasn’t like his, though. “Hard cider?”
“It won’t be as bitter as a beer. You’ll like it, trust me.” Charlie gave me a lopsided grin that caused my stomach to clench and my penis to plump to nearly full mast.Down, boy.“Here.” He reached over to twist off the cap.
I gave him a shy smile before I took a small sip. Apples and cinnamon burst against my tongue. It tasted like fall. “It’s really good.”
“I told you.” Charlie tapped his bottle against mine. “Now, don’t get drunk on me, Jones. I would hate to explain that to your mama.”
It was the wink that sent my heart into my throat. The wink that caused goosebumps to break out over my skin andthe hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. That couldn’t be good.
Fudge. Fudge. Fudge.
I took another sip. This one larger and longer to try to gather my wits. Straight. He had to be super-duper straight. No man who looked the way he did was going to be into me. Not Jones Matthews, the backwoods hick from the sticks. Hell, I had told my mama I would sell merchandise that said that if I ever made it into NASCAR. Not super classy, but catchy.
“Not me,” I promised, but when I drained the bottle and let out a loud burp that caused me to blush under the moon, I realized I might already be a little tipsy. It didn’t stop me from taking the second bottle Charlie handed me.
