Or maybe it’s because I’m so wound up and touch-starved that being near someone attractive short-circuits my brain.
Maybe it’s all of the above.
“I’m sorry. It’s just… been a rough day,” I sigh.
But when I open my eyes, he’s already gone. Only a trail of fresh shoe prints marks the sand where he stood.
***
After the parade ends, Maddie and her friends swarm one of the food trucks, all demanding hot chocolate.
When I spot the prices on the menu posted outside the truck, I nearly say no. Five bucks for a paper cup of glorified sugar water? But then I glance at Maddie.
She’s already self-conscious about our situation. She never invites her friends over to our house, and she constantly complains about thrift store clothes and hand-me-downs from our cousins.
I bite my tongue and dig out the last fifteen dollars in my wallet, handing it over for three wildly overpriced hot chocolates.
The girls sit at a nearby picnic table, chatting about the parade and sipping their drinks. I angle my phone screen away to open upRotica, a popular gay hookup app. Mindlessly swiping on cute guys is one of my favorite pastimes, which is admittedly pathetic.
When I was still in college, finding guys to hook up with was easy. The university’s located in Shelby Harbor, a mid-sized city about three hours north from here. The campus is overflowing with fellow horny queer students. Sadly, Claremont Shores is basically a gay dating wasteland. I have to set my Rotica search radius to 100 miles to get any matches—and even those are rare.
“Mason? Mason Burke?” shouts a loud voice.
I look up from my phone and freeze. One of my swim teammates from college, Kiah, is waving at me enthusiastically and jogging over to greet me. He yanks me up from the picnic table and wraps me in a bone-crushing hug.
“Dude! It’s so good to see you!” Kiah greets cheerfully.
“Kiah…” My voice comes out flat with shock.
I’ve regrettably lost touch with my former teammates over the past two years. We used to be inseparable, practically like brothers. After I abruptly left college, several of them reached out, including Kiah, but I never answered.
Kiah pulls back from our embrace and smiles. He’s an attractive guy with tan skin, blond hair, and perfectly straight teeth. He’s almosttoohandsome, like a Ken doll.
“This is crazy running into you here! I had no idea you were still living here. Figured you’d moved on by now.”
My smile stiffens.Ouch.
“So, how’ve you been, man?” Kiah asks, lightly knocking his fist into my shoulder.
I swallow hard. I always hate this question. People rarely want to hear the truth.
“Oh, you know. Same old shit,” I deflect.
“Did you finally escape that crappy seasonal lifeguard gig?” he asks, grinning like it’s a joke.
I press my tongue to the inside of my cheek. “Nope. Still there in the summers.”
Kiah pauses, color rising to his face. “Oh. Sorry,man—“
“It’s fine, dude,” I insist. “How about you? You graduated, right?”
“Yeah!” His grin returns, bright and easy. “I graduated last spring. I started working at a tech company in Grand Rapids.”
“Wow, that’s great,” I say, forcing a tight smile.
Kiah nods, then his expression softens. “We really missed you on the team these past couple years, dude. Still haven’t recruited anyone with a better breaststroke.”
I drop my gaze, words sticking in my throat. “Yeah, well…”
