Page 2 of The Perfect Wrong
Now, it’s closing in on late June and fall is creeping closer.
Now, I can practically taste my future—along with whatever overgrown, shallow prick she gets to match me up with in September like a one-woman hookup app if I don’t get off my butt andget laid.
Laughing, she shakes her hips, causing her beauty queen body to bounce.
I don’t know how she tolerates her skimpy, skintight bikinis. Not that one wouldn’t feel awfully nice right now in the balmy California evening.
“It’s fine, Marnie. Really. He’s a decent option. He’s just...old.” I pause before I look at her. “And I’m not you. I just don’t see the appeal of the age gap thing yet. It’s not my style.”
Really, I don’t see the appeal of this party when I could be upstairs in my room, laying another gorgeous sunset in bright paints that try to translate my soul.
I stare down at my tank top and shorts. I’m decked out in the most conservative beachwear by far tonight.What else is new?
Sometimes I wonder if Marnie just keeps me around for the real estate.
Everybody else enjoys these summer parties on Dad’s cozy little stretch of beach way more than I do.
But Marnie drains her Bellini and tosses her head back in another gut-ripping laugh before she smacks me on the shoulder.
“Oh, girl. Just what the hellisyour style? I’m still trying to figure that one out.”
I shrug as she leans in closer, smelling like peach-breath and booze.
“Why wouldn’t you try it with Kyle? Jesus, lady. I almost fell over when he told me you two were together that long and you never got past first base. You’re about to finish college and you’restilla virgin. I’m not letting my best friend walk off campus with a fancy degree and her cherry intact.”
I wrinkle my nose and stay quiet.
She’s not letting up, but that’s what Marnie does.
After a few strong drinks, she’s a lioness. I make a mental note to slip away once she’s had a few more, right about the time she tumbles into the arms of her latest overbuilt surfer bum for the night.
“I will make it happen, you know. Whether it’s tonight or whenever things are cooling off in September. You promised, Cordie, and the clock’s ticking.” She wags her finger at me with a flip of her blond hair with the pink highlights. “I know you own at least one bikini. Why don’t you grab it? Show off your sexy, and maybe I’ll ask Big over there if he’s got a hot friend after I’m done with him.”
God.
The smile she’s wearing makes her look like a shark.
Shaking my head, I fold my arms, one more reminder that I’m overdressed even if I feel like I’m half-naked out here with all this skin surrounding us.
“We’ll see. I’m just here for the sunset and a martini or two. Oh, and please flip Kyle the bird next semester for talking about personal crap he really shouldn’t.”
I mean it.
In hindsight, it’s hard to believe the idiot I broke up with over a month ago was supposed to be the one.
We lasted a few months since late winter—longer than my other boyfriends by far—and I’d actually been getting a little impatient about jumping his bones toward the end.
He was the first man in a while I could actually imagine tumbling into bed with—until he sat me down after a nice dinner and spilled all the nasty stuff he wanted me to do.
The kinky stuff he was clearlyexpecting.
Look, I’m no stranger to getting freaky, even if it’s only been theoretical.
My taste in smut books says I crave it.
When I’m not painting, I love stuffing my nose in tales of bad boy billionaires and flaming hot firemen with filthy mouths and a spank-happy mindset.
But what turned Kyle’s crank?