A shy high school senior jock and a closed-off girl battling an immune disorder fake a relationship to win a social media contest.
Being shy isn't easy, especially when you're the new kid at school. Scotts Valley's football program is subpar compare...
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I shouldn't have been mean to Paige. She had nothing to do with my nonexistent relationship with Dad. I apologized via text when I got home and again in person on Saturday when I took her to the beach.
"You don't need to be sorry." Paige smiled with a blush creeping up her neck. She wiggled to pull down her jeans, dipping the collar of her shirt as she bent over. Her breasts bounced in her bikini before she stopped and blinked at me.
She caught me, but I wasn't sorry for looking. Was I blushing, too? Yes. What were we talking about? Apologizing. "Yes, I do."
We found peace in the most unlikely beach, Bonny Dune. Clothing optional Bonny Dune beach.
Paige wanted to see it once, so we went, and it became our beach. The waves were small, but the beach was quiet and secluded. The only people here didn't want to be stared at either. The nudity factor was anticlimactic, mostly topless sunbathers and old guys flopping around.
She gave up surfing alone to sit in the weirdest position: on the end of my board like a surf dog. She wore one of my T-shirts, wrapped it over her knees and hugged them while we glided in from the breaks. It was slow and gentle, not the surfing I was used to, but still fun. Especially when I tipped us over, and she screamed like it was a surprise. Every. Time.
Six dunks were enough for Paige to quit.
"I give up." She gasped and wiped her eyes, dragging her feet through the shin-deep water to our towels.
From every angle, she had a nice body. Really nice. Well-proportioned in all the right places, but it did not-nice things to mine. Whenever she stripped down to her bikini was absolute torture, which—yep, she was removing her T-shirt right now.
I spent every second during her fifteen-minute sun exposure treading waist-deep water, trying not to stare and hoping she didn't see I was as stiff as a brick.
Only when she rolled on her stomach was it safe. I adjusted myself with a groan, focusing on the sting in my eyes, not losing my board to the ocean, sand abrasion roughing the soles of my feet, and all possible unsexy thoughts. My teammates. Nico's hairy ass. Mom burning down the condo.
Paige's doctor was right; the sun and cold, salty water faded her spots to a light pink. What I liked most of all was how comfortable she was. The Paige I first met would've never laid on a towel with her arms folded under her head like a pillow and showing her bare back. Sand dotted her legs and ankles, and I brought my gaze up the dusting behind her knees and between her thighs.
Her sunglasses had slid down, showing her eyes closed and her eyelids still. A relaxed smile pulled on her lips—
Wait a moment.
Her hair was in a messy bun, a few pink strands blowing in the wind. The back of her black halter bikini was open, the untied ends laying at her side to reveal her shoulder blades and the valley of her back curving into two cute dimples above the swell of her ass. She didn't have psoriasis patches on her butt, as far as I could see, but had pulled the bottoms, which were like boy shorts when we got here, up to expose more of her cheeks.
