Cody had woken me up at the ass-crack of dawn and told me to get ready. I stood in his bedroom as he shuffled about, putting towels and sunscreen in an old gym bag. “Jacob Riis Beach,” he replied. “It’s in the city, so it’ll be a hike, but definitely worth it.”
“There’s a beach in the city?” I asked.
“Well, in Queens. It’s out there. I heard it’s super fun.”
I was down for a day at the beach. Couldn’t imagine a beach in Queens being nice, but, fuck it. It’s good to try new things, right? “Who’s coming with?” I asked.
Cody stopped in his tracks. His shoulders twitched a little as he slowly turned to face me. “I-I thought it could be just us.” He looked so nervous when he said it. Like, I would throw a fit or something. It was cute. I was starting to notice all the cute things Cody did, and I had to admit, I loved them all.
The shoulder twitch thing: Cody did that when he felt like he got caught in the act of something naughty. Cody’s flushed face always emerged when he was embarrassed, but when the face and the neck grew flushed, that’s when I knew the little brat was fucking pissed. He also bit his nails around his mom, and she chided him for it relentlessly.
I chuckled and beckoned him to me with my finger. He closed the distance between us, and I whispered, “Since we’ll be alone. Does this mean I get to fuck you on the beach?”
Cody raised a brow and sang, “If you’re a good boy.”
“Hey! That’s my line, you little shit.”
I gave his perfect ass a little smack. He yelped and ran to his room, calling out, “Get ready. I wanna beat the crowds.”
Crowds? “It’s Wednesday,” I yelled back.
The objects cascading from the shelf in Cody’s closet thudded against the floor. His bashful face peeked out a few beats later. “It doesn’t matter. When it’s this hot, it’s always crowded. Let’s go.”
“Ugh, fine. Can we have coffee first?”
Cody emerged. “No! Coffee on the way.”
This little brat was going to be the death of me—or at least the death of my ability to sleep in.
***
The beach was a forty-five-minute drive. I had to force Cody to stop for coffee with the threat of a day at the beach with a very crabby Rafael. We rolled up to the parking lot, and the place was already packed. School buses painted neon green and orange dropped off hipsters in front of this ramshackle building that looked like it might fall over. It looked cool as hell, though – like a relic of the 1920s, with its Art Deco style.
As we got closer, I saw a sign stating that it had once been a bathhouse. I started to wonder what Cody had in mind for our little day trip.
“Are we gonna jerk each other off in a steam room?” I asked.
Cody looked at me, confused. I pointed to the sign and he replied, “It’s not a bath house anymore. I think we can just use it for a bathroom and stuff like that.”
I followed him up a small flight of stairs that led to a boardwalk. It opened up to a view of the ocean where hundreds of hipsters lay on towels. A sea of multi-colored hairdos blanketed the sand. These were definitely the coolest people I’d seen in a minute. Greenwich wasn’t exactly known for anything edgy, and New Rochelle was even worse.
“Let’s find a spot. We can grab drinks and food over there.” Cody motioned to the line of take-out spots along the perimeter of the boardwalk.
He led the way, searching for a spot where we could lay our blanket down. When he finally found something that fit the bill, he dropped the bag on the sand and reached in for the blanket. It billowed in the wind before smothering him entirely. He looked like a ghost trapped under the sheet, and I couldn’t stop laughing.
“Help me, you ass,” he hollered at me.
“Why? I kind of like you as a ghost. Your skin is already pale enough.”
Cody’s head finally emerged from the sheet. “Ha. Ha. Ha. So funny. Get over here and help me lay this out.”
We set up the blanket, and I sat down. I pulled my tank over my head and searched the bag for some lotion.
Cody stood, undressing to reveal what I thought would be a regular bathing suit—perhaps board shorts in his favorite color, blue, and goofy, like every pair of underwear he owned.
Instead, he pulled down his shorts to reveal an honest-to-God white thong with gold trim at the waist. My fucking heart stopped.
“What the hell are those?” I asked.
