Page 12 of Praising the Pitcher

When my eyes widen, he chuckles. “Relax, I’m just kidding. I don’t even own a banana hammock. Even though I should. Everyone would thank me.”

I shift in my seat, the image of him wearing nothing but a Speedo surprisingly hot and making my chest flutter. And luckily, he gets out of the truck before I melt into a puddle on his seat just thinking about him wearing next to nothing.

I relax slightly until I remember one thing …

Soon, I’ll have to be near him when he’s shirtless and wet. How the hell am I supposed to keep it together then?

I look at myself in the mirror and instantly, I want to take this bikini off and put on my trusty Nike swimsuit. I hear my dad’s voice, telling me I look pathetic, showing my body off the way I am right now just to get a guy’s attention. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am choosing this suit because I want Noah King to look at me. I know it’s stupid and wrong, and yet here I am.

Pulling my long, blonde hair into a loose braid, I take a deep breath, set my shoulders back, and walk toward the door. I open it and walk out before I second-guess what I’m wearing and change, and even though it’s nice that no one else is here to speculate on me and Noah hanging out, that means it’s only the two of us, and when I step onto the pool deck and his eyes drink me in … I’m regretting my decision instantly.

At the center of the pool, he stares at me. His dark hair is wet from going under the water, slicked back away from his face.

“Jesus Christ, Smoke.” Noah sucks in a breath and then I swear he cringes—like actually cringes. Instantly, my hands fly to my stomach to cover myself up, which is impossible. “I’m going to need you to jump in the water because you’re one of my sister’s best friends, making you the forbidden fruit, and right now, but I’m having a hard time not drooling.”

A stupid grin threatens to spread across my face, but I fight it off.

“Wow, you’re good,” I utter, walking toward the steps to get into the pool. “Like, really good.”

“Huh?” he says, his brows pulling together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rolling my eyes, I put one foot in the pool and grimace. “Damn, that’s cold.”

“Answer the question, Gigi,” he says, using my actual name and swimming closer to me.

“I just mean … you’re good. You’re good at making women blush. I’ve seen you in action, and you lay it on thick. But I’m not like one of the girls who hangs around parties, hoping to be your flavor of the night.” I shrug, putting my other foot into the water. “I’m not interested in being charmed by Noah King, unlike ninety-nine percent of the student population probably is.”

“So what, you think I just inwardly thanked the water for being so cold it stopped me from popping a chub just for the hell of it, Smoke?” he says, completely unflinching. “Your body is that of a fucking goddess, so while I may be the campus flirt, I’m not bullshitting when I tell you I’m having trouble tamping down inappropriate thoughts when you’re standing in front of me wearing that.” He waves a hand toward me. “I mean, hot fucking damn. How are you single?”

“I could ask you the same, you know.” I step down on the next stair, my nipples hardening under my thin swim top, and I move my arms up higher, trying to cover the headlights that are undoubtfully flashing Noah’s way. “You’re single, and we both know you’re pretty to look at. Although … from the sounds of it, you have a lot of girlfriends, just none who are exclusive.”

That was probably a little harsh, and right away, I wish I hadn’t said it. I don’t know his story or why he is the way he is. I don’t know why he’s made it his mission to be known around campus as being the guy you call for a one-night stand.

He looks thoughtful, like he’s debating telling me whatever he’s about to, but finally, he opens his mouth to speak.

“Yeah, well, for a year and a half I was tied down, and I guess I’m just making up for lost time,” he says, his tone a little sharper than usual.

“A year and a half?” I blurt out, unable to picture this man being with the same person for that long. “What happened?”

“Let’s see, she fucked my best friend,” he deadpans. “And they made their very own porno and it accidentally got out.” He stops. “On prom night. When she and I were walking in together.”

“Oh my God!” I gasp. “What did you do?”

Running a hand over the top of his head, he sinks deeper into the water.

“Well, to kick the celebration off, first, I knocked him out. Then, I called her a cheating asshole, burned my tires out of the parking lot, and found a party to get completely blackout drunk at and tried to pretend she and I never happened.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, still in shock. I would have pegged him to be the one who cheated, not got cheated on. I guess this is a lesson I shouldn’t judge someone I don’t actually know. “That really sucks.”

He grows quiet before jerking his chin toward me. “You coming in or what? It’s not going to get any warmer; you have to just jump in. You know, get it over with.”

“I know that,” I whine because when my mom would take me swimming as a kid, the water was either a lot warmer than this pool is, or I was just tougher about it. “Can’t I just go in the whirlpool?”

“You told me when you’re upset, you like to go swimming.” He grins, bringing his hand back, and I know he’s going to splash me before I can step back. His hand sends a wave of water my way, and I yelp but don’t move.

“Until you make me stop, I’m not going to,” he drawls, pulling his hand back again. This time, when he splashes me, soaking my entire upper body and even my face, I jump into the pool and start swimming toward him.

One thing he doesn’t know about me is despite hating cold water, I’m a pretty good swimmer. After all, my dad went through cycles of thinking the exercise I needed most was swimming laps, so he actually went out and bought a fancy lap pool. It was not to be used for anything but swimming laps, but when he was gone, a few times my mom let me go in it anyway and just be a kid.