Me: We’re going to the pool. He just changed and came out of the bathroom without a shirt and I almost died. He has tattoos and they look so good on him.
Ashton: Okay, you enjoyed the view. Good. What’s the emergency?
Me: Should I wear the one-piece or the two-piece?
Ashton: TWO-PIECE. And girl, if he has tattoos and abs, you need to stop playing and get to work. That man is not a museum—he’s not just for looking.
One second.
Payton: Two-piece. Don’t even think about it. Show that man what he’s working with.
Staring at the green bikini in my hands, heart racing, I quickly change and glance at myself in the mirror. The color pops against my skin, the fit hugging me in all the right places. I look good—better than good—but suddenly, nerves flutter in my stomach.
What is Esteban going to think when he sees me? Would he like it?
I take a breath and push open the bathroom door.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone, but the second he looks up, his eyes lock on me and stay there. Then I feel his gaze travel slowly, like a caress over every inch of exposed skin. Instead of shrinking under it, I stand a little straighter.
I love how empowered I feel in this moment and the worries that I had moments ago, vanishes at seeing his expression.
I toss his own words back at him with a smirk. “You like what you see?”
Chuckling, he sets his phone aside as he stands and closes the distance between us in just a few steps. Now we’re chest to chest, almost. The air thickens with the tension between us.
His cologne hits me again, that same clean, warm scent that makes my knees a little weaker than I want to admit.
He leans in close, his lips almost brushing my ear when he whispers, “If you don’t cover yourself,I’mthe one that’s going to have a heart attack.”
I smile to myself but stay rooted in place.
“You look gorgeous.” His mouth is still so close to my ear, I can feel his breath skate down my neck.
My breath hitches, and for a second, all I can do is stare at him, wishing this fake thing between us wasn’t fake at all. I lean in just a little and whisper back, “Thank you.” With a wink, I grab the white cover-up from the bed and slip it on slowly. Esteban doesn’t take his eyes off me the whole time.
“You ready?” I ask, acting like I didn’t just catch him adjusting himself. But on the inside, I am so fucking giddy with joy.
“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat and subtly shifting again, trying to hide the very obvious evidence of hisreaction. I walk toward the door, pretending not to notice, and hear him quietly groan behind me. When he shuts the door, he reaches for my right hand and threads his fingers through mine. It feels natural. Comfortable. A little dangerous.
We walk down the wide hallway and toward the back of the mansion where the pool area opens up. The second we step outside, I feel the sun kiss my skin and catch my breath.
The pool area is like something out of a luxury resort. It’s massive—complete with a sparkling infinity pool that seems to stretch all the way to the beach beyond. Lounge chairs with plush white cushions line the edges, and tall palm trees sway in the soft breeze. There’s a shaded cabana area with sheer curtains fluttering in the wind, and a private path leads down to the powdery white sand. The smell of the ocean mixes with something savory coming from the grill.
Adrian is already in the water, laughing and floating on a neon raft beside another boy who looks a couple of years older. The girls—Josy, Violet, and Mrs. McNeal—are lounging in a row of beach chairs, drinks in hand, sunglasses on. Noah, Austin, and Mr. McNeal stand near the grill, deep in conversation.
Letting go of Esteban’s hand and head toward the girls, I drop into the empty chair beside Josy, the soft cushion sinking under me like a cloud.
“Hi, girls,” I say, smiling.
“Welcome!” Mrs. McNeal beams. “Do you need bronzer or sunblock?”
“I’d love some sunblock. If I don’t, I’ll burn like crazy. And we always have to protect our skin,” I say, the last part a little automatic from my influencer brain.
Mrs. McNeal hands me a sleek white bottle. I immediatelyrecognize the brand. “Oh, this is an excellent choice. I love that it’s fragrance-free and works well for all skin types.”
Mrs. McNeal nods with approval. “Yes! My dermatologist recommended it. I’ve been trying to avoid more sunspots. Now that I’m getting older, I realize what a mistake it was not to protect my skin back in the day.”
“Mrs. McNeal, you look wonderful,” Josy says warmly.
