He looked me critically up and down, that barely-there quirk to his lip still present.
God, he was so good-looking. An absolutemountainof a man. What would he look like if he actually smiled?
I imagined it would be the kind of smile that people would pay millions of dollars to put on the front page of a magazine.
“Youarepretty small. Shark bait would be an appropriate nickname for you.” His eyes twinkled. “If a shark ate you, they would definitely still be hungry after.”
I allowed my mouth to drop in mock offense.
“Excuseyou.I am notsmall.You’re just ridiculouslybig.”
Suddenly, the light-hearted energy between us heated up, and my breath caught in my throat at the way he was looking at me now. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, and his gaze flicked down to my dick again.
There was no way I was imagining this… was I?
“You have no idea, shark bait.” He smirked, and I swear to god, the entire planet stopped spinning for a second.
OMG—HE DID A FLIRT!That was definitely a flirt! This was not all in my head… was it?!
GAH, WHAT SHOULD I DO?!
I laughed nervously, clearing my throat and rubbing the back of my neck. If he were a chick, I would have flirted back, but he wasn’t. I wasn’t sure ifeitherof us were gay, and I didn’t know what the protocol was in this situation.
What if I openly came onto him, and it turned out I’d entirely misread the situation? What if he was a super straight homophobe, and he punched me in the face and refused to come back to train me again?
I didn’t think that was the case, but I didn’t want to risk it. Instead, I changed the subject and focused on surfing.
Surfing was safe.
Surfing was comfortable.
Surfing was myhome.
“Anyway, I really think you should stay and surf with me for a bit. That’s the whole point of you training me, right? So you can use my beach?”
He chuckled and shook his head, his blue eyes shining with amusement.
“I thought we’d already established that I’ll use your beach whether you want me to or not, Finn. I’m not doing this so I can ‘use your beach.’ I’m training you with the hope that you won’t die this winter when you willingly feed your dumbass to the proverbial sharks.”
“Tomato, potato.” I grinned, waving my hand in the air as if his concerns were inconsequential.
He looked at me sharply, and for a moment, I thought he might actually give me a real smile or maybe even laugh.
“What?” I asked innocently, and his eyes shimmered with amusement.
“It’s tuh-may-tow, tuh-mah-tow. Not tomato potato.”
I gave him a dimple-popping grin and shrugged.
“I like potatoes better. Can’t make a French fry with a tomato.”
There it was again. Thatalmostsmile.
“Come on, Riddick. Please? I’ve been dying to learn how to hang ten, and you’re, like, freakishly good at it.”
I pulled out my pink shortboard and bent down to strap on my ankle tether. He watched me silently for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh.
“Fine. I’ll stay. But only for an hour. Then I need to go, and you need to eat more.”
