General Chemistry II Ch. 02

List of Characters

Jack: Our point of view. Smart, corny, neurotic, Jack has few friends at school outside of his study group. White. Lifeguards in the summer and has a big dick.

Pri: Jack's ex(?). Brilliant and reserved, she plays varsity soccer with her best friend Liv. Indian-American. Short and athletic with ass for days, darkly tanned with thick black hair.

Liv: Pri's best friend and Jack's study buddy. Funny and dynamic, she plays varsity soccer and does what she feels. Jewish. Tall with a heart-shaped face. She has a deep tan, small breasts, and sprinter's legs.

Marco: Liv's boyfriend and long-time friend. Charming and almost offensively handsome, he teaches tennis and studies literature. Colombian-American. He's fashionable, with a lean, muscular body.

Sylvie: Liv's long-time frenemy and Marco's ex. Grim and sarcastic, she's pre-law at NYU. Pale, Jewish, and tiny, with a cute face and a bull ring septum piercing.

Kay: Sylvie's friend from NYU. Laconic and up for anything, they study film and play volleyball. White and non-binary, they're over six foot and covered with tattoos. Bleached pixie cut and dark eyelids.

Grace: Liv's friend from college. Perky and energetic, she's All-State softball and loves to party. Chinese-American. She's muscular but feminine, with thick legs, big breasts, and fun tattoos.

~

Laughter and music filled the enormous kitchen at Calle Didion 19. All six of us had gathered for breakfast, a little later than we'd planned, to prepare for our first Spanish beach day.

I'd been sipping my coffee and nodding along to the general commotion. The morning sun trickled through the shades and warmed my back. Honestly, I didn't need the caffeine. I'd had my first cup around 5 AM, right before roughly fucking Liv on the bench a few feet from where I sat. Our mugs, cold and abandoned, were still there on the window sill.

Even though Liv and I had done it before, many times, I couldn't quite convince myself that this time was okay. Pri and I were on "break" but I had no real idea what that meant. Liv and Marco were fighting about Pri. And I was still reeling from being abandoned by everyone this summer. Given the circumstances, fooling around with Liv was probably the stupidest thing I could have done. It wasn't cheating, not by any of the rules we'd set up in the past, it felt like it.

I really shouldn't have come here.

I click-clicked on my laptop and mumbled performatively about finding an ebook. I was looking for something pulpy, with heroes and monsters and nothing at all to do with my fucking feelings.

Kay and Sylvie were organizing the beach equipment they'd found. The pair were dusty and a little sweaty, having alternated trips to the closet under the basement stairs. Each time they returned it was carrying more booty: folding chairs, coolers, umbrellas, and even a paddle ball set.

Marco was too excited when he saw it. "It's not paddle ball, it's pickleball. It's like... slow tennis. It's really fucking fun."

"That's good," I said. "Fun. Great."

Marco, who was an actual tennis instructor on the side, had convinced me to play once. Never again. He'd slam an ace into my body and then apologize, or he'd lob a serve toward me only to smash my return into the farthest corner. Then he'd apologize.

"Pickleball is a great equalizer," he said. He and Grace were hip-to-hip at the kitchen island slicing fruit and veggies into containers. A stack of baggied sandwiches was piled at his elbow. "Plus, we have enough for three teams of two, so we could do a little tournament."

"Maybe we can just have a vacation," said Liv, entering. She dropped a tote bag of colorful towels on the table. "For once. Instead of competing."

"Picklething could be fun," said Grace. "I gotta get energy out somehow." Her aggressive chopping stopped abruptly. "Liv, babe. You're not bringing a top?"

"Hm? No, I don't wear one." Liv wore only a pair of bikini bottoms and a paper-thin Charlotte Football Club t-shirt. The fabric was practically shrink-wrapped to her breasts and the imprint of her puffy nipples was obvious. "You can do topless too if you want. Lot of people do."

"Oh," said Grace. "Yuck." The seams of her own suit top were visible through her shirt. It was modest, resembling a sports bra with a fun, floral print, and it covered her ample chest almost completely. "I don't think so. I'm not throwing meat for babosos."

"Que es that?" I asked.

"Guau, mis amigas, he learned Spanish in a single night!" said Marco. "It means creeps. Slimy dudes. Possibly perverts."

"It's not like that," said Liv. "Topless es normal. Kids do it. Lots of old ladies do it. You're gonna see several miles of geriatric titty today."

"Kilometers," I said. "Maybe liters if we're going volumetric."

"Yes, liters of tits, that's obviously what I meant to say. Thank you Jack, I knew we kept you around for something."

I turned in my seat to raise a cheeky thumbs up and froze. Just at arm's reach, Sylvie had bent over to root around in a drawstring bag. She'd ditched the dusty shorts she'd worn over her suit and her lime green bikini bottoms had ridden up, revealing most of her milky pale cheeks and the outline of something more personal.

I snapped my head forward, staring at nothing, rubbing my forehead as if suddenly remembering something important. Yeah, man. Plausible deniability.

I somehow locked eyes with Grace. She looked amused, her chin resting on a stack of takeaway containers. She waggled her eyebrows over her glasses and mouthed baboso at me. I made a stupid face and stuck my tongue out.

Despite my much-needed release with Liv, I was still coming off two months of no sex and, bluntly, I was tired, emotional, and horny as hell. In a Spanish tourist town I'd be seeing bare chests and asses in thong bikinis, young women with succulent tan lines and long, beautiful legs. I wanted to keep a low profile, but whether silently ogling the girls in this room or staring too hard at strangers on the beach, I was bound to get caught at some point. My plan was to stick to my chair, read a book, and hope that the compression shorts I wore under my suit would conceal any rogue erections.

"We good to go?" asked Kay. Her New York accent really stood out on certain phrases, and it sounded something like We gooda go?

Their accent. Not her. I hadn't spoken to them very much, so I hadn't had the chance to fuck up the pronouns. They leaned against the wall, one tremendously long leg crossed over the other knee, massaging their ankle. Kay's androgynous style apparently extended to beach wear as well, and the two of us had both dressed in tees and swim trunks. Their shoulders were just as broad as mine and we probably could have swapped outfits without much issue.

"I don't see why not," said Marco. "What do you say, chef?"

Grace slid the containers forward, examined them for a long, dramatic beat, then nodded with exaggerated intensity. "I'd say we're good, chef."

~

The short drive to the beach frustrated us all. We saw gorgeous ocean views, just barely visible through the palm trees, all the way down the mountain, but parking near the water was a pain for one car let alone the two we needed for all of our crap. After endless searching, with speaker phone arguments and several illegal turns, we finally found some spaces. Then we had to scrounge for euros when the card reader was broken and, of course, actually haul all the tools of leisure that were supposed to make the trip enjoyable in the first place.

"Next time," said Liv, switching the cooler bag to her opposite shoulder for the thousandth time. "Next time we leave at nine like I said."

The narrow beach of San Cristobal was a riot of color and activity. There were umbrellas for rent by the entrance, neon reds and greens and yellows, and we saw them planted up and down the water by the dozen. Tourists jammed the concrete boardwalk and it wasn't until we actually stepped on the sand that we could start to look for a spot. The sunlight felt almost heavy, pressing down on my hair and skin. A sheen of sweat had already started to form under my shirt.

Marco led the way. He walked slowly, scanning the terrain of towels and tents, sandcastles and volleyball nets. He took us to the halfway point between the boardwalk and the water and planted his umbrella viciously, with all the confidence of a European explorer claiming indigenous land.

"Venganza de Colombia," he said wickedly.

We arranged our chairs in a semicircle and I placed myself at the very end. Kay was my only neighbor, and they were already applying sunscreen to their long, extended legs. The lotion collected in the dark fuzz of their shins.

"Kilometers of tits," said Liv loudly after we'd finally gotten settled. "Told ya so."

"No kidding," said Kay.

I leaned back in my chair and buried my toes, feeling around in our canvas bag for my Kindle. Liv was right, of course. You couldn't look in any direction without seeing bare breasts of some kind. They were mostly old women with the over-tanned, low-hanging variety, but I saw plenty of fit tourists too. Walking out of the water in our general direction, a group of kids our age laughed and high fived and held hands. One of them, a topless olive-skinned girl with brilliant white teeth, pushed the boy she was with and started jogging away, shrieking, her large, wide-set tits swinging.

My cock twitched only a little. Thank god they're all the way down there. Maintain a respectful distance and I'd make it through this alright. I turned to check on the others.

Liv stood in profile, six feet away at most, slipping her shorts off the perfect half-moon of her ass. She lifted her shirt over her head, peeling the tight fabric away from her sweaty, tanned skin, her individual ribs countable as she arched her back, the shirt catching momentarily on the underside of her breasts before releasing them to jiggle.

Her thin, athletic body had filled out since spring. It was obvious in the swell of her thighs and chest. Her once-visible abs had disappeared behind a smooth tummy. I remembered this morning, how the biteable weight of her rump had taken the serious, hard fucking I'd given her...

Liv twisted her torso to brush some sand off her hip, looked directly at me, and winked. My mouth hung open as she ducked back under an umbrella. Harpy. Witch. It was Liv's vacation, Liv's party, Liv's friends. If anyone should have been playing it cool, it should have been her, yet she was the one doing a barely disguised strip tease in my direction.

But I wasn't the only one in the audience. Kay slowly turned their head until they caught my eye, eyebrow arched. Their wayfarers had slid down their nose and they'd paused sunscreening, fingers barely touching the octopus tattoo that wrapped around their calf.

"Cool, cool, cool..." they said, leaning back and running a hand through their bleached-out hair. The lotion made it stand up in a little faux-hawk. They exhaled loudly, then craned their neck at something else. "Oh, fuck. Check it out."

I followed Kay's line of sight down a crack between the umbrellas. Sylvie and Grace stood apart applying sunscreen as a pair. The shorter girl's pert ass wobbled as she rubbed the cream onto Grace's back. Her breasts were tiny bumps under the padded triangles of her bikini. A pair of oversized sunglasses hid most of her face. Sylvie was definitely hot, but she was Kay's best friend so I didn't think that's why they'd gotten my attention.

It was Grace, yanking at the thick straps of her suit, tucking her hand into her top to apply the lotion to her generous tits. The Asian girl's legs were muscular and ridiculously thick, with bulging calves the size of oranges and a tiny cloth anklet above her left foot. I wasn't sure how I hadn't seen them before but her left leg was inked from ankle to bikini line with a dozen or more colorful tattoos. The biggest was a huge brown bear, almost Native American looking, on the side of her thigh.

She split lunged in the sand to more easily rub the bear's body with sunscreen, incidentally pushing out her prominent venus mound. It was wrapped tight by her suit bottoms, looking like a huge, juicy peach straining against the packaging. A little curve of chubby belly popped over her waist band, and a gnarly shirt-and-shorts tan divided her skin. It was either from a sports uniform or she'd worked for the Department of Transportation this summer.

And her ass... Her ass was incredible. Round with muscle and thick with body fat, the crease between her hamstrings and butt cheeks was deep enough to disappear a fucking Sharpie. That, or swallow the fingers of a reverent man.

"Fuck me," I said, and Kay laughed. I powered up my Kindle and crossed my legs, trying to cover the bent and swollen mess of my cock.

"You got a type, huh?"

"You started it."

I thought that'd be the end of our conversation, possibly for now, possibly forever.

"Pri's tomorrow, yeah?" asked Kay. They'd lifted their t-shirt to rub lotion on their stomach, but instead of a bathing suit top they were wearing some kind of vest underneath. They noticed me looking and dropped the shirt abruptly.

"Uh, sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to."

"All good," they said stiffly. "I'm just trying it out."

"What is it?" I immediately cringed at myself. "I'm sorry. Forget it."

Kay scratched their cheek with a fingernail. "Nah, it's okay. It's a binder. It... hides your tits. Makes your chest flat."

"Oh," I said, my stupid cis brain kicking into gear. That's a trans thing. Kay is non-binary. That's a different thing, isn't it? Say something, dickhead. "It looks really good. It's, like, very natural."

They said nothing for a long moment, long enough for me to worry that I'd really fucked up. "Thanks," they said eventually.

I felt like I'd just dodged the shockwave of a faux-pas nuke. Kay flattened their blonde tufts back down with their palm, staring at their feet, their face returning to its normal programming: distant and unreadable.

"Not for nothing," they said after a pause. "But you should probably start thinking about grandma's slipcover or whatever. Before we play this pickle game."

They inclined their chin towards my lap. My cock, chubby but not fully erect, was obvious across the top of my thigh. With my crossed legs and the crease of my bathing suit, I'd thought it was hidden. It was not.

"Shit," I said. I crossed my legs in the other direction which only pointed my semi towards them more. I reversed and leaned over a bit, trying to creatively angle my Kindle for cover. "Listen, I'm sorry. I'm not--It's, like, autonomic..."

"I don't care," they said. "There's some very good looking people here. I don't blame you..."

"Exactly what I was saying. And it's... I mean, I haven't..." I stopped myself from saying something even more embarrassing.

"Dry spell," they said. There may have been a twinkle of amusement in their sleepy-looking eyes. "The Pri thing. I get it. You were a good boy this summer, huh?"

I, of course, thought of my hookup with Liv this morning, my cheeks flushing. "Is it a gray area? When you're on a break, I mean."

"I got no fucking opinion about that. But I know that when you haven't fucked in awhile, putting on sunscreen turns into the kinkiest shit you've ever seen."

"What's the kinkiest shit you've ever seen?" asked Sylvie. I nearly jumped. She'd snuck up on us somehow, sliding in like a ghost from around the wrong side of our umbrella. Her pale skin was ridiculously shiny, thick buildups of sunblock visible in patches across her body. She looked like she was getting ready for a beach day on Mercury.

"Um," started Kay, searching for something to say. "That itty bitty green bikini?"

Sylvie looked unimpressed. "He wants to do pickleball now, so get up."

"Bet," said Kay, popping smoothly to their feet. Sylvie slapped Kay's ass in a sportsman-like way as they walked past.

"No thanks," I said. "Got a book. Just gonna chill."

Sylvie gave me a heavy, bored look. "Grace! Jack's not gonna play!"

Grace approached from the correct direction, around the edge of the umbrellas in front of me, hands on her wide hips.

Sylvie somehow packed a chapter of disdain into six words: "He said he wants to read."

"He'll play," said Grace. "You go, we got next." Sylvie gave a sarcastic thumb and walked off. Grace slid easily into Kay's abandoned seat, cocked her head, and gave me a long and silly look. She'd switched her normal glasses for sunglasses, tortoiseshell and pretty hip. "You'll play," she said finally.

"Don't let me stop you. You should go."

"You're my teammate."

"Well I don't want to play."

"Is it Pri?" she asked, dripping with concern. "Are you depressed? Exercise is good for that."

"I'm not depressed," I said.

"So why don't you want to play?"

"It's hot. I'm on vacation. I have a book."

"But it's fun. You don't want to have fun on vacation? At least turn so we can watch."

That seemed harmless enough. Marco had picked our spot for its proximity to some volleyball nets. I saw him making the final adjustments, tying the ropes tight as we rotated our chairs.

We couldn't hear his words but we saw him gesturing towards the ground and the net in turn, and making a few swipes in the air to demonstrate. The teams separated, Marco and Liv on one side, Sylvie and Kay on the other, and began to volley. I didn't really understand the point of pickleball. Based on what I saw it was just volleyball with tools.

When the pickle thing reached Kay for the first time, they promptly smashed it over the net with a wicked overhand. Marco dodged, the ball whizzing by at neck level. The foursome laughed hard as he gave a huge thumbs up. He actually looked excited.

When the game started for real, it was pretty entertaining.

Liv was a high-level college athlete, and while I knew that she refused to play tennis with Marco on principle, she had great feet, able to get seemingly anywhere on the court with a few quick steps and a lunge. Once she got in position, however, she was scattershot. With her athletic frame, and wearing only bikini bottoms, she put me in mind of an Amazon training for battle.

Sylvie was in better shape than I'd realized, and she seemed to have some racket experience too, capable of three or four clean hits in a row before a miss. She'd added a ball cap pulled down low over her eyes, her ponytail swinging behind her. It was giving female Unibomber. In the game she was measured and calm, except, I thought, whenever serving at Marco, when the intensity jumped just a little. Soon her pale body was slick and shiny with sweat.

Marco was still in his tank top, his sunglasses held on by a dorky looking strap that he somehow made look cool. He held back at first, trying to keep the volleys going and build everyone's confidence, but couldn't help himself from smacking tough shots towards Kay as if trying to lure his enemy into battle.

For their part, Kay moved easily and constantly, pivoting and flipping their hips with a smoothness I hadn't noticed before.

"Kay plays tennis?" I asked.

"Volleyball. Years and years, but I think they quit a few months ago. Sylvie told me not to get into it."

"That sucks. She's obviously a crazy athlete--they're a crazy athlete. First time I fucked it up, don't say shit."

"Womp," said Grace. "They're nice, yeah. They had a scholarship but I know they had some issues this year. Academic stuff, I think. You swim, right?"

"Mhm, but not at college. I just do the lifeguard thing now. Norton, Connecticut. Home of the Hornets. Buzz."

Grace laughed. "Nice! Arlington High Hornets here. There must be like eight animals to pick from and if you're not one of those you're something weird like a Mountaintopper or some kind of Wave."

As she stretched out her smooth, two-toned legs into the sand, I let myself check out her tattoos out of the corner of my eye. Though her left leg was almost totally inked, I couldn't find any on the rest of her body. The tattoos were mostly in the style of anime or western cartoons: a little witch on a broom, a stack of pancakes dripping with syrup, those little forest spirits from Princess Mononoke, the ones with the rattling heads. One was a typical sailor tattoo of a mermaid except the mermaid was totally jacked, grinning and posing with flexed bicep.

I wondered what they meant... if anything. Do tattoos have to have a meaning or can you just like pancakes enough to paint them permanently on your body?

I opened my mouth to ask what would surely have been a deep and incisive question when she sighed and flexed her quads. The thick muscles bunched up in humps and hills above her knee, revealing some aspect of deep thigh anatomy that I wasn't previously aware of. I crossed my legs again. Fucking hell. God knows I like them strong but this is a little much. I kept my head forward with great determination.

"So what about you?" I asked nonchalantly.

"C'mon man, we go to school together!"

"Shoot." I tried to not blush. "I forgot, okay? We haven't hung out that much."

"We've hung out like five times!"

"Being at the same party at roughly the same time doesn't count as 'hanging out.'"

"Fine, fine," she said. "I'm usually wasted at those anyway--"

And hanging off some random guy, which is a thing I definitely did not fucking say.

"--I play third base for varsity Timbies. I'm... puh-rett-y good." She said the last part with a sing-songy emphasis. She clearly wanted me to ask about it.

"Okay, how good are you?"

"Can't believe you don't know--ooo!" Grace reacted to a wild spike that went directly into Sylvie's body. The pickleballers were suddenly crowding around under the net, laughing and pointing. Sylvie grimaced and clutched her breast with one hand. "Tit shot! I bet that stings like hell."

After a moment's pause, she remembered she'd been in the middle of a thought. "Oh yeah. I crank it. I hit over.400 last year. I'm ranked."

"Ranked? What's that mean?"

"Oh my god, I can't tell if you're embarrassing or I am. I'm first team All-ACC. Does that mean anything to you?"

"It means you're good."

"As a sophomore, yeah. I'm not trying to impress you. I'm saying you gotta go hard when we're up there. I'm not going down with you."

"Dude, I just want to read my book. Is that not allowed?"

"Oh, come on. If you don't play then I don't play. And you'll get to see some half-naked people hopping around. Breasts a-swingin'. Lil' Marco floppin' around in those shorts. It'll be a good time either way."

"You are such a dumbass." I clapped my Kindle case shut. "Fine."

She grinned. "I knew you would."

Not wanting to be in the hot sun any more than necessary, I shimmied my shirt off and reached into my bag for the sunscreen.

"Oh, come on!" Grace leaned dramatically on her fist, her head tilted almost 90 degrees at me.

"What's wrong? Forgot to tell me your ERA?"

"I guess you actually don't know shit about baseball. No, no, I'm just pissed at Pri. You've got abs? You're kinda funny. You're STEM, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Bio." This time I did blush a little. "Relax, dude. I'm not cool."

"You're not one of those manosphere guys, are you?

"I don't think so..."

"Why can't I find a good guy?" she asked absently, as though speaking to the universe. "I know I'm pretty. Maybe I'm stupid?"

"Ew, c'mon. You seem smart to me, or clever, or whatever."

"Thanks dad. Buy me an ice cream?"

"Were you always this weird? You didn't do this to Marco, did you?"

"God no." She looked at me like I was crazy. "Marco is like a fucking model and I really don't need anything getting back to Liv. I'm just trying to be friendly."

"What, I don't look like a model to you?"

"You're normal-cute at best. Marco is like another species."

"Oh good, I thought you're talking to me like this 'cause I'm ugly."

She made a Gag me face. "Oh, relax. I'm just getting to know you, right? I'm a helper. I help people. And you are in major need of help. I'll admit, the sad puppy thing is really doing it for me, but I do need to turn that frown upside down so you don't ruin the vacation. Heck, I feel like we're best buds already."

"Wow," I said, trying to look shocked but smiling anyway. "You're nuts."

"So that's my problem? I thought guys liked crazy chicks." At first I thought it was a joke, but the tilt of her chin, the way her question lingered, it felt real.

"Are you asking my opinion?"

"Maybe. Sure."

I considered for a moment. I mean, she asked. "You're pretty fucking intense but you're not crazy. You're just missing the verbal filter. Software error of some kind. You talk a lot. Like a lot a lot. Also, you look like you can crush a watermelon with your thighs. Listen--let me finish." She seemed ready to interrupt me at several points. "It's not bad. You're very... dynamic. But maybe you gotta dial it back a little."

"Dial what back!?" she yelled, then paused. "Ok, point taken."

We watched for a few minutes more, talking about nothing in particular, until the others finished their game. After a round of hi-fives and sweaty hugs, the four began to plod over to us.

"No! Don't stop, we're up!" shouted Grace.

"Water break, dummy!" Liv shouted back

Marco mimed pouring water into his mouth. It looked a little like giving a blowjob and the others started laughing. Kay whacked him on the ass with their paddle. When the group reached our little camp, I tried not to stare. The girls were shiny with sweat, bodies flushed, still catching their breath. At least Sylvie's tits were covered. With just her suit bottoms on, Liv looked like she'd just tagged out of an orgy.

I found myself staring at Kay. They were dressed like one of the guys, boxy, absent of sex appeal. That is, until they hitched up their t-shirt to catch the breeze on their skin. It gave me a new angle of their wiry, athletic frame, their body fat low enough to not only have abs but also a lightly-veined V of muscle. I'd always known them as dick lines but I didn't know what to call these. Kay towered over us, carefully pouring water in their mouth, the hard angles of their stomach rising and falling with each breath.

Why was I so turned on right now?

"Wanna sit?" asked Grace.

Kay shook their head. "No air down there."

"Who won?" I asked, hoping for something else to think about.

"Obviously we did," said Liv loudly. "This guy is such a fucking ringer. Tomorrow we play volleyball."

Kay looked over, cheeks bulging, and gave a big thumbs up.

"C'mon," said Grace, lurching to her feet and grabbing Kay's racket. "We gotta practice."

Sylvie stood apart with Liv, her own racket embedded like a sword in the sand. They were wiping their hands on the same towel and picking from a container of watermelon. Both girls, one tiny and pale, the other tall and tanned, chatted happily enough. A circular welt glowed below Sylvie's collarbone where the pickleball hit her. As I approached, she unscrewed a water bottle and trickled cold water down the back of her neck. It sluiced over her shoulders, down her chest, dripping off the faint bumps of her breasts and her stomach. She shivered and sighed.

Baseball. Uncle Joe. Praying mantis, praying mantis, praying mantis...

I reached down for the racket, trying to ignore them, and received a slow, saucy wolf whistle. The girls had said something that I missed, and when I looked up, they were watching me with raised eyebrows and shitty little grins.

"Oh my god, when did you get so ripped, step-boyfriend?" said Liv in a nasally, exaggerated porno voice.

Sylvie's face screwed up and she doubled over laughing, forced to spit out her watermelon. For a second she sounded like she was choking. "Oh my god," she rasped. "Step-boyfriend, holy shit."

Liv was smiling so hard I thought she might injure her face. "Just saying, you're looking good dude. Lots of laps at work?"

I stuttered for a moment before Marco saved me. He walked up next to them and practically launched his tank top over his head. He was in phenomenal shape, with his toned chest and broad, brown shoulders.

"Wha-huh? What's this?" he asked, meathead impression set to maximum. He bent down stiffly, arms out wide like a bodybuilder, to pick up a shell. "One of God's great works, the home of a tiny sea creature. Totally, like, incredible, don't you think ladies?"

Sylvie rolled her eyes but still smiled, while Liv shamelessly groped her boyfriend's bicep and said, "Oh yes. Absolutely incredible, tell us more..." Maybe it was because Marco was having fun again but the relief was visible on her face.

I slipped away to find Grace by the net, batting the ball straight up in the air, over and over like a kid's toy. We practiced for a few minutes, tapping lightly to each other without smalltalk, her face a study in concentration. After our first decent volley, she snatched the ball out of the air.

"We got this," she said.

We did not have it.

Twenty minutes later, Grace and I were wading out into the ocean, sweaty and maybe a little bit humiliated. I didn't want to psych us out beforehand but I knew I'd be horrible. I'd played one season of baseball in 3rd grade, standing in the outfield with my mitt on my face. Aside from that little detour, it'd been all swimming and board games. My ball skills were non-existent.

Despite her competitive fire, Grace had been a good sport about the whole thing. She scored all three of our points and each time pumped her fist like she'd smashed a homerun into orbit. When I hit the ball out of bounds, or more likely, swung and missed the damn thing entirely, she collegially clapped her racket into her hand and cheered me on.

At least I'd been too active to get an erection, even with Liv pivoting and bending and swinging her stunning body right in front of me. Grace was fun to watch too. Spirited was putting it lightly, she got much better as the game went on. It didn't hurt that her big, beautiful ass was half-way out of her suit bottoms, her tits bouncing with every step.

"Sorry I suck." I trudged against the waves, forcing them to splash up my thighs and stomach.

"Eh, I kinda figured you might. I just like to get out there and run around, ya know?"

"Rude."

"No, I appreciate that you actually tried. Three real athletes... and you--no offense--"

"Some offense taken."

"--but plenty of people would have just dogged it."

"I think I was getting better there. At the end I mean."

"Not really."

We laughed and I flicked some water at her. In for a penny, she held her black ponytail tight above her head and dunked herself up to her chin, emerging from the ocean slick and gleaming.

I studied the shoreline rather than stare. We said nothing for a bit, content to have the salty water lap at our legs and enjoy the madness of kids and parents and teens and lovers all walking along the beach.

"God this thing is tight," she said. "Uhm, I'm gonna, just..."

She turned her back to me and lifted her suit top above her breasts. I could only see her bare back and the deep, red imprint of the straps on her skin, but she was effectively flashing everyone on shore. From the angle of her elbows, it looked like she was holding up her tits with both hands.

"Oh my goddd," she sighed. Her shoulders slumped. "Soo much better."

Fighting a sudden shiver, she bent over just enough to scoop some water onto her chest. Turning away had hidden most of what needed to be hidden, but her breasts were so large that a sliver of their roundness was visible on either side of her ribs. Those slivers alone told you they were fat and pale and incredible. All my rude fantasies came flooding back, to oil her tits and fuck them until I shot onto her face, or to throw her over the arm of a couch and take her hard, breasts swinging wildly against the cushions.

"Damn," I said.

"Huh? Did you say something?"

"Uh, no."

"Hold on. Can't hear you." With a disappointed groan, Grace pulled her suit top down, taking awhile to carefully maneuver herself back into place. Turning, she said, "Hey, did you mean what you said? That I should be a little less extra? You think that'd help?"

My fantasies flitted away like startled seagulls. What the hell had I been saying to this woman?

"You know what?" I said. "I'm sorry. That was bad advice. Terrible even. I never meant that you should be less like yourself. You're uh..." I looked her in the eye, resisting the gravity of her chest. "You're interesting. People pick up on that. The only thing I'd change--the only thing--is maybe stop giving so much of a shit. Like, stop asking people like me how to be different. You're not nearly as confident as you should be. The unscrupulous types take advantage of that."

"I can avoid the unscrupulous types."

"They're good at hiding it. It's part of the un-scruples."

"You mean like babosos." She hit me with an innocent smile. "Yeah, they are good at hiding it."

"Hey, I'm not like that. Anything you see to the contrary is just a hormonal imbalance. That's medical. I don't deserve to be bullied."

"Yeah yeah, you're fine." She scratched the back of her neck with both hands, her incredible tits shaking from side to side. Abruptly, she asked, "You and Pri gonna be alright?"

"Yeah," I said. "Probably. Maybe. I hope so."

"Wow, that downgraded fast."

"Well, it's gonna be a long trip if we aren't." The joke felt hollow.

"Want me to pump you up a little?" she asked, a tiny smile forming.

"Meaning?"

"Return the favor. Pep talk. Bud stuff."

"Go for it."

"You're cool and shit," she said, shooting me with finger guns.

"Fuck off," I said, laughing.

"You seem smart. You're funny. Not ugly--"

"Thanks..."

"--and maybe you could give a little more of a shit, but you'll be okay. If you guys break up I know a few girls who'd take a shot at you."

I tried to take it as it was intended, but imagining the collapse of my life without Pri wasn't fun. I smiled grimly. "Thanks. That's... actually super nice."

"No problem," she said. "We should hang out more. At school, I mean. I like you."

"Yeah, I like you too." I thought for a moment. "You like board games?"

"Uh, yeah," she said, blinking rapidly, giving me an odd smile like I'd said something off-color. "I mean, no, not really."

Oh. You fucking idiot. She's flirting with you.

We watched the shore. At least, that's what we pretended to do. I kept her in the edge of my vision, her thick, powerful body, her sweet face and her rosy cheeks. Up to her waist in the water, she swung her arms back and forth, making circles in the waves like a bored kid, each time dragging her line of sight back on me, looking at my chest and my stomach and maybe lower. On the fifth or sixth rotation we caught each other's eye, both laughing a little and turning away.

"Okay, I'm good," she said finally.

On our way back to shore, I suddenly noticed how much attention she was getting. Grace was fucking stacked, with a fat ass and easily the nicest breasts of anyone we could see. We chatted as we walked, shoulder to shoulder, the backs of our hands touching every few feet, but we didn't say anything that mattered. My upcoming sophomore year and her junior, jokes about Marco's potential modeling career. Nothing about the obvious spark that we were feeling. Nothing about the dozens of heads turned in her direction, tracking her as we came ashore. For her part, Grace seemed not to notice at all.

When Liv saw us, she gave me a wide-eyed look, like Oh ho, what the fuck is going on here?

I returned the look and added a tiny head shake, hoping to convey the right message: Absolutely nothing.

~

We took a late lunch at a beachside cafe, drinking overpriced espressos and sharing from a huge dish of seafood and rice. Afterwards, we strolled along the boardwalk, eating ice cream and searching the long line of shops for something, anything, interesting. The shorefront was packed with tourists enjoying the beach, crowding the restaurants, or walking up and down the sidewalk like us.

"I don't usually like fish, or shrimp, or whatever," said Kay. "But that was pretty good."

Liv licked an ice cream drip off her thumb and pointed her cone at Kay. "High praise from the 'food is just fuel' camp."

"I never said 'food is just fuel,'" said Kay. They looked at the rest of us for emphasis. "I never said that."

"I'm muy full," said Grace. "I wasn't that excited either but it was a good pick, Marco."

Marco laughed and said something in rapid Spanish. Grace responded just as quickly, adding a vaguely obscene hand gesture, earning another laugh. It was strangely compelling to see an Asian person speaking fluent Spanish.

Apparently Liv thought so too. "Do people ever act weird when you start talking español?"

"Not really. Well, sometimes. Once, at Torero's, you know that place by the Home Depot, I..."

"Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" Marco said softly.

"Sure," I said. I slowed my pace to give us some space from the others. They walked on blithely listening to Grace's story. It seemed to center around a taco bowl. "What's up?"

He said nothing for a few seconds, his tongue pressed against the back of his lips. "It's about Liv," he said finally. "Or about Pri too, I guess. She's gonna be here tomorrow, right?"

"Mhm. She's gonna take the train to Torre and we gotta pick her up."

"What are you gonna do when she gets here?"

I expected my stomach to flop or my heart to squeeze, but instead I was a little annoyed. I wished everyone would stop fucking asking me about this.

"I don't know," I said flatly. "Play it by ear. I'm not going to fuck up the trip if that's what you're worried about."

He took a breath, then abandoned whatever he was going to say. Ugh, he didn't deserve my tone. When he started again, he looked melancholy and embarrassed.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything. About Pri, about the break. I was so fucking surprised--Liv didn't tell me."

"I know. I mean, I figured that out."

"It's not okay." He glanced up at nothing, searching the sky for what he wanted to say. "The fact that she didn't tell me... Look, I care about her. Maybe I'm a dork who's mainlined too much John Donne, but I think I love her. But the thing with her and Pri... Maybe you already know what I'm going to say."

"I don't," I said, thinking that maybe I did.

"I had this analogy about the Study Group being a piece of land, and there's like these four kingdoms... I can't even really remember it. What I mean to say is: we've been acting like there's two couples, us two and you two, and every now and then the girls sleep together. Every time it's like, 'Whoops, we done it again!' Like they just got carried away. Is that really true though? I'm afraid to say it to her--'I love you.' You'd think it would be easy--"

"It's not," I said.

"I know you told Pri, told her that you love you, and I don't know every detail but I know she said, more or less, 'hold your horses.' But Liv and Pri love each other. They say it all the time. They're best friends but it's also--The longer I sit with it, the more I think that we're not the couples. We're the side pieces, good side pieces, fun and great for photos, but really--really--the couple is them."

I gave the words the time to disperse, like outwaiting the exhaust from a passing bus. My stomach finally flopped. Better late than never.

"Maybe it's not that simple," I said without much conviction. "This idea of two people being the 'real' couple and the rest just being fun--"

"That's not exactly what I said..."

"I'm just saying, maybe it's more equal. You can be in love with two people at once."

"Alright, R slash polyamory."

"You need to talk to Liv. Really talk. She's freaking out. She knows she's fucking things up with you. She's a mess."

For a moment, we both watched Liv from behind. Talking big, talking loud, she was rolling up the sleeves of Kay's t-shirt, seemingly to better show off the tattoos hidden underneath. Kay flashed a rare smile, responding animatedly to something we couldn't hear.

"She's a mess?" he asked. He jumped back in before I could respond. "I know, I know. It's all a big show. Olivia Ackerman, master of putting up walls."

"She wants you. She's hurting right now. I know it."

The others were a good ways off now, beginning to veer off the painted concrete of the boardwalk. Liv looked back to find us, waving and pointing towards an open shop. Marco waved back but didn't move any faster. I could feel Liv rolling her eyes from here.

"And Pri," he said at last. "If she breaks it off..."

"If she breaks it off..." I mimed a grenade going off in my chest.

"I'm so fucking stupid," he said. "I thought this would help you somehow but it's obvious I just needed to vent. I'm here." He grabbed my hand, then a moment later stopped me and pulled me into a hug. Into my ear, he said, "I'm here for you. If you need to talk or scream or just getting totally fucking wasted, I'm here."

We retreated to arm's length, hand in hand, like we were about to waltz.

"Thanks," I said. "You're the only person who could understand, really. I'm gonna work on some things. Either way, I'll be fine. It'll be tough but in the end, I'm gonna be fine."

He nodded sadly. I didn't really think that I was going to be fine and he knew it.

~

It was brutally hot on the day Pri arrived. Liv had planned to leave us at the beach, pick her up from the train station, and take her home to get settled. No one would be there which, crucially, included me.

Instead, the entire group quit the beach before noon, forced out from under our umbrellas by the sweltering heat. After a grumpy, sweaty car ride back to the house, we returned our snacks to the fridge and cranked the air conditioning. Liv left for the train station without fanfare while the rest of us showered and dressed down for a day indoors.

We were flopped on the couches in the great room, scrolling on our phones, all except for Marco who sat upside down, his head dangling where his feet ought to be, reading some thumb worn novel he'd pulled off the shelf.

"There's a castle in Dénia," said Kay, who'd slid down so far in their seat that their long frame was more off the couch than on it. "Not too far. Nice little hike. Thousand years old."

Sylvie grunted. "Can we not hike when it's hotter than Satan's asshole? Can we agree that's suboptimal?"

"Don't be a goblin."

Sylvie hissed in a goblin-like way.

They talked in circles for a while, about castles and Roman ruins and whether any trip should be taking us farther than the edge of town. It was idle, making words for the sake of it, but it neatly avoided the topic of Pri. Every few minutes Marco would shift like the hands of a clock, laying sideways, then sitting up, then sideways, and then upside-down again. The sun drifted in the sky, the shadows in the room gradually shortening until they disappeared.

I heard the low clanking noise of the gate and the ineffectual toot of Liv's little car horn. With varying degrees of excitement, the others stood.

"Finally," said Marco. He saw my pinched expression. "I mean... Let's go and greet this horrible bitch? DEFCON 1, people. Or 4, or whichever is the worst one."

Grace, walking around the couch behind me, placed a cool hand on the back of my neck and squeezed gently. "Everything will be okay," she said.

I followed them out into the baking heat of the driveway, hiding in the back of the group even though I knew I should be out front. The sun felt like a physical weight pushing down on us. Liv slid fast out of the driver's seat, Pritha a little slower.

God, Pri was fucking beautiful. Her thick, black hair was loosely tied, her already dark skin tanned a dusky brown. Smiling thinly, she waved, turning the motion into a deep vertical stretch, reaching straight up and wiggling her fingers. She looked like she was somehow in better shape than during soccer season. Her plain black t-shirt clung to her breasts and flat stomach, her wide hips and huge thighs poured into a pair of olive chinos. The pants were clearly made of some stretchy material and doing their best to keep up with the thickness underneath. I could clearly make out the extensive henna tattoos down her forearms and hands, clay-brown against her skin. In all the wallowing, I'd completely forgotten she was coming from a wedding.

Marco, god bless him, took the first hug like a bullet. He and Pri spoke softly, just below my hearing, before releasing each other.

I lost time, a film missing a dozen frames in a row, and suddenly Pri was in my arms. It lacked the drama I'd been expecting. We held each other, not loose or tight, for several painful seconds. As hugs go, it was above acquaintance but well below lover. When she looked up at me, not daring to press her chin into my chest like she used to do, her eyes were flat and timid. The me from months ago, the happy version of myself that I'd flash frozen in the back of my brain, screamed at me to kiss her.

I didn't. She didn't. And the moment passed.

The others greeted her loudly. It sounded like the empty noise you'd hear when holding a shell to your ear. Desperate for something to do, I went to the trunk and found Pri's luggage. Atrociously red, the suitcase looked big enough to stuff a body into. I swore the car's suspension creaked as I heaved it out. Sweat already coated the back of my neck, a cool bead sliding down most of my spine before my shirt could catch it.

Up the stone stairs, into the cool air of the house, I followed the others as they chirped and chatted and carried on, moving together like a little flock of birds.

"You gotta see the backyard--"

"The beach is, like, gold and there's all these umbrellas--"

"No, not through there. Go here first--"

"What the hell," I heard Pri say from up ahead. She'd stopped dead, staring at the colossal, two-story window on the far wall. "This is real? We're staying here? What is this place?"

"It's sunny, wonderful Spain, you daffy bitch." Liv laughed. "Drop your shit off and we'll get you something to eat."

Pri looked around and saw me carrying her ridiculous bag.

"I got it," I said. "Go on." She made a grim little line with her mouth. I thought she was trying to smile.

"Wait 'til you see the back!" said Grace, grabbing Pri's arm, dragging her into a full-fledged tour.

The stairs were a menace and I nearly lost my balance lugging the bag against my hip. It took a few tries to get it up on her dresser. I stood back, sweating, and surveyed the room. Airy, with a big bed and polished wooden shelves lined with books, the room was lovely. Where Marco and Liv had a full terrace, complete with table and chairs and a little lounger, this one had a small balcony of worked metal, barely enough to stand on. It was hard to argue with the view though: a brilliant, cloudless sky framed in orange flowers. A huge ship, maybe a cargo freighter, moved imperceptibly in the distance.

I couldn't do it. I knew I should wait there for her. I knew I should face whatever was happening between us, not wait for a better time that would never come. The room made it worse. It was too beautiful for me to stand there and be told that I wasn't loved any more.

I left, fleeing down the stairs as if chased, thankfully seeing no one in the way, and finally escaping to the basement and my dark, solitary room. I closed my door and laid on top of the blanket, staring up at the ceiling, massaging my aching stomach. My heart thudded, like the house had been built on top of some immense, clanking machine, each turning of the gears sending a tremor through me. I spiraled in a way that was so fucking familiar, each horrible thought triggering the next horrible thought, and so on forever.

This is you. Pri is out there and you're hiding. You're hiding like you always do.

There was a soft knock at the door and I sat up with a start. The knock repeated.

"Ye--" My voice cracked and I winced. "Yeah?"

A small voice that I couldn't make out. A pause, then louder.

"It's Pri."

I swung my legs off the bed, frozen. This is not what I wanted. This is not how I wanted it to go. Pushed by the raw need to just end this, to end this feeling, to find some kind of resolution, good or bad, I stood and crossed to the door.

She looked up at me with shiny eyes, her arms crossed, her henna spiraling and swooping in wild floral patterns. Strands of thick black hair had escaped her ponytail, curling madly on either side of her face. She sniffed loudly, looking serious.

"You have your own room," she said.

"I just wanted to be alone. Away from the others, I mean." My dangling fingers tapped a rhythm against each other. "They're great but... they're a lot."

"Oh," she said. She glanced at my mouth, then my chest, then past me completely. "I thought we could share a room. This one is nice."

It took me a second. "We can't."

"Then you bring your stuff upstairs. That one's nice, too."

"That's not what I meant."

"It's okay, we can share. Let's go upstairs. I can help you with your stuff." She entered, gliding past me like a ghost, and wandered over to my suitcase on the dresser. My duffel and toiletry bag were stacked neatly nearby.

"No. Pri, what are you doing?"

She turned back, something flashing in her dark eyes. "I'm gonna help you move. Come on, get your stuff."

"Pri, stop. You can't. You can't just walk in and pretend everything's okay."

"Everything's fine," she said. "I know you're upset. I'm sorry, if you just come upstairs we can talk about it..."

"Everything is not fine. Everything is really fucking bad actually."

That, finally, stopped her. She stood stiffly, her hands flat on my socks and underwear and folded shirts.

"Please," she said. "It's okay, just come upstairs and we can talk."

"You can't do this. You can't just remove yourself from my life and leave me on Read and then tell me to fly here and then just... What? What are you doing?"

"Jack, please. We're okay. I just needed some space. I couldn't--I couldn't give you what you needed but I can now. I'm here. I came here for you."

"You came here for Liv." Before I'd even understood what was happening, my little anxiety tumor had ruptured. I took a few steps toward her, hands out. I heard myself shouting and I didn't care. "What are we even doing? What do you want? We're not even together!"

She flinched like I'd hit her.

"The break was stupid," she said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. It was so fucking stupid. Everything's okay, right?"

"Can you hear me at all? No, everything is not okay. You broke up with me."

"No. No," she said sharply, like I was the confused one. "I didn't. It was just a break and that's over now."

"It's not fucking over, Pri! There's no such thing as a 'break.' A break is just a breakup that you're too chickenshit to actually say out loud."

"I didn't... I don't..." Whatever energy she'd summoned fled just as quickly. She looked lost, eyes fixed to the floor. "That's not what I wanted. Jack, I was stuck. I couldn't do it. I was trapped."

"I trapped you? Go, Pri. Please, go away."

She squeezed one of my t-shirts in her fist. "You don't want to be with me any more?"

"I'm fucking in love with you! Where did you go? Why do you think I'm gonna let you drop me like a bad fucking habit and then pick me up again like nothing happened?"

She started to cry. After a moment, she tried to say something but lost it, wet and stuttery. She tried again and still nothing.

Explain it away! Clear this whole thing up. Tell me something and I'll throw my self-respect in the trash and I'll be yours. Lie if you have to, just tell me anything!

Instead, she said: "I have to get married. They want me to marry some... boy, from fucking Duke. He... he likes making models or something. Like on the computer, I don't know. He's just some random fucking person I don't know and they want me to marry him and I don't know what to do."

There it was.

It should have surprised me but somehow it couldn't. I felt hollow, the revelation falling down the hole inside me like it was nothing.

"Who is 'they?'" I asked, even though I knew. I knew this would happen. I was shocked that I didn't realize it from the very beginning. We'd danced around it for months, never quite putting it into words: a proper marriage for my Indian girlfriend. "Your parents?"

"Yes, obviously my fucking parents!" She wafted at her face, struggling to find her breath, her tears falling hard now. "They started up again right after school ended and... and... first Shruti got married, then Dhaval, and... I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't want to hurt you."

The more she twisted my t-shirt in her hands, the tighter my stomach felt. I wanted to scream. I needed to be sick. "But you did hurt me Pri. They want you to get married. They can't make you. You're nineteen, you're smart, you have a freaking scholarship. You can do anything you want." I gestured back and forth between us. "And what you chose to do was this."

"You don't get it, Jack. This is my life! This is everything. My sisters, my cousins, my aunties... They can't handle this. My cousin got cut off for getting a fucking MSW! I wanted to let you go. I--I tried. I don't want to trap you, or force you, but then I thought if we could just get back to school, back to how things were..." She was wiping away tears with both hands now. "We can go back to normal and... I don't know what will happen but at least I'll have you."

"Are you going to marry some kid from Duke?"

"No," she said. "I don't know. They won't push it until after I graduate. I convinced them of that. I made sure of it. And maybe if I do med school, that's another four years--"

"And delay and delay and then what?" I said. "Then you'll break up with me again to marry him? Or some other guy who's a little more successful, a little more interesting to your parents?"

"They'll change their minds by then. I can make them. I know I can."

"Please go, Pri."

"No, Jack, stop. You can't--"

"Just go. I'm done."

"You're done?"

"I don't want to shout anymore." I was suddenly exhausted. "I need you to go, so please go."

"Oh," she said distantly. In an instant, it was like her spirit had fled her body, like she'd been zombified. She tilted like a stiff wind had entered the room. "Okay, I understand."

She paused for a long beat and then slowly walked to the door. As she passed me, she didn't speak or even look up, but I could feel her, physically feel her, like some magnet pushing against my blood. She rested her fingertips on the doorknob. I thought she might turn back again, to try one more time, to say something else, but she wiped her face one last time and left.

I sat on the bed, my lungs coated in lead, trying to hold back the pressure in me that could only come out by sobbing.

What the fuck was wrong with her? What the fuck was wrong with me?

After weeks of self-immolation, of dreaming about her, of wishing she would just call me and apologize and put things back together again, I couldn't believe I'd sent her away. It somehow stung more that I was the one rejecting her, that somehow it had become my responsibility to keep us together but couldn't. It was my fault now, my issue, my stubbornness. That's what goes down in the annals of fucking history.

Why did she hide it? Either a marriage was inevitable or it was avoidable; either way we needed to plan. Why not tell me? It was so stupid, so unlike her. She wasn't thinking. How could I help if she wouldn't let me in?

I tried to imagine the world where she left me for some sweater vest from Duke. An engineer or a doctor or a lawyer. A nice Indian boy for a nice Indian girl. A catch. If Pri wasn't able to convince her parents, or if she didn't have the strength to defy them, that's what would happen.

And that, in the end, is what it really came down to: Did I believe that she would defy them when the time came? If I didn't, could I be happy knowing that we had an expiration date?

Fuck. Maybe! Maybe I could. It would probably be a disaster. I'd probably end up more fucked up and broken than I was now, but could I accept it and just be happy again, even for a little while?

I didn't know if I was ready to accept it, but if I let her go now it would really be over.

Before the thought could reach my upper brain, before I was able to poke and prod and process it to death, I was on my feet, through the door and up the stairs two at a time. I felt wild and confused and out of breath, and when I entered the great room, Grace was alone, hunched over her phone on a couch. She looked up blankly, but when she saw the state I was in, eyes wide and panting like a crazy person, she smiled.

"She's upstairs," she said. "Don't be late."

I opened Pri's door without thinking to knock. The sun had long since passed over the house and the room was dim, the fading light entering through the balcony door. Pri, halfway between the bed and the bathroom, visibly jumped when I entered, hands fluttering. Her face was puffy and tired and distant. She'd already removed her shirt and her sports bra was wrapped around her wrists. Instinctually, she clutched it to her bare chest. When she finally understood what was happening, her bottom lip quaked and she looked like she might start crying again.

"I didn't mean to," she said. "I should have told you. I should have--I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

I crossed the room in three steps and pulled her against me, enveloping her, her bra falling to the floor. As my hands slipped into the natural valleys of her back, I was overwhelmed with a dozen interlocked memories: holding her, kissing her, making love to her.

"I'm sorry," she said into my shirt. "I thought it was the right thing to do... I thought..."

"It's okay, Pri," I whispered. "I don't care. I'm here, it's okay."

Her shoulders rose and fell, catching on jagged breaths as she held back her tears. Still, I felt a few damp spots seep through onto my chest. I thought, naturally, of comforting Liv yesterday.

"I just want to go back to how things were before," she said.

"Me too. I know, I know. Me too."

"I'll fix everything, I promise. I'll... I'll..."

I let her go, my hands grazing her bare shoulders. The complicated person who hurt me and cared about me waited with glassy eyes.

"You can't fix everything. I know that, but I'm.... I'm not ready to let you go."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know." I sighed and, somehow, like there were little bits of glass in my chest, it actually hurt. "I really don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I can't lose you but I can't just let you smash me to pieces again."

"I wouldn't--"

"You did, okay? I know you didn't want to, but you did. Do you think we can... I don't know... pause? Pause until we get back to reality?"

She bit her lip and gave me a difficult look. It was a blend of sadness, hope, but also a spark amusement. "You mean like a break?"

"Oh, fuck." I raised both arms and batted myself on the back of the head. "Fucking idiot...!"

"We can figure it out. Today. Tomorrow. We don't need--"

"This place isn't real, Pri." I pointed out the window to the pure, sunbright sea, framed in flowering vines. "It's a fantasy. No school, no family. It's as far away from your parents as we could get. We can't figure out anything when--"

"I get it."

"I'm sorry, I just--."

"Okay. I know. I get it." She sighed and massaged her face. "So... what? We're nothing?"

"We're something, Pri. We just don't know what it is yet."

"What about...?" Seeming so very tired, she raised her hands as if gesturing to everything.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you want to do? We don't have to share a room, but what? Avoid each other? Just friends?" She grimaced, like that last word had soured in her mouth.

"You're still my friend, aren't you?"

It took her a long time, breathing hard like she was working through a cramp, but eventually she looked up.

"Yeah. If that's what we have, then yeah. Friends." Pri held out a limp hand. I took it. We held hands for a while, not sure what else to say but not ready for it to be over. Then she looked bashful, almost embarrassed. "You haven't... slept with anyone, have you?"

"What? No." My brain did a little rotation. "I mean, just Liv."

"She told me." I had wondered what they'd talked about on that car ride. "I meant someone new. Because of the break."

"No," I said. "No one."

"You're not going to ask me?"

"Did you?"

"Just Liv," she said with a weak smile. "In the car. We parked under a tree."

I blew a breath out of my nose. I guess that was fucking obvious.

"Can you--Will you kiss me?" she asked. "Just once. Is that okay?"

Like an optical illusion flipping into place, I became painfully aware of her body. I glanced away rather than linger on her bare skin.

"I don't know," I said. "That's not a good idea."

"Just one. I feel awful and I need something good. It's just a kiss."

"One kiss. That's okay, right? But just one. And not--I'm sorry, you're just half-naked..."

"One kiss is okay," she said, gently tugging me closer. Her eyes were red, her cheeks wet. "One kiss would be really good right now..."

I bent my neck and pressed my lips to hers. As if removing a great weight, her shoulders went slack, and the kiss became softer, more natural, more like it used to be. She grazed my ribs with both hands, pressing warm palms against my chest.

Her hands shifted downward. She pawed at me, pulling at the hem of my shirt, fumbling with the waistband of my shorts.

"No, Pri," I said. "A kiss. One kiss. Pri."

She wasn't even looking at me, only downward, trying to puzzle out the mystery of my clothes.

"Please, Jack." Her fingers touched my bare stomach. "Please..."

"We're just doing friends. This is not how you do friends." The smooth skin of her neck was electrically charged. I couldn't seem to pull my hands away. "We have to wait. We need--We need to figure some things out..."

"Just once," she said desperately, grabbing the outline of my dick. "One time, let me. God, I'm sorry, just let me do this..." Pulling at my waistband with two hands now. "Let me, it's okay, just let me..."

She was so strong, forcing my hand to her feverishly hot breast. I pinched the hard, brown nipple between two knuckles and shook her heavy tit in my palm. We both sighed.

She had me.

She angled my shirt over my head and pushed my shorts to the ground. I kicked them away. We groped at each other, kissing hungrily, our tongues twisting and licking half out of our mouths. Pri fondled my flaccid cock through my boxer briefs, rolling her grip to squeeze more blood into the head. I threaded my fingers into her mane of thick black hair, using my other hand to knead her ass through her chinos.

God, I needed fuck her. I'd gotten no real resolution, no next steps, nowhere to put my feelings. The melancholy mess in my brain was all still there, oozing over my emotional machinery, circuits firing and smoking beneath the control panel. Hope and anger and confusion, blocked from their normal channels, overflowed into the only outlet I had: hot, roiling lust.

"Take these fucking things off," I said, slapping her ass hard enough to sting. "They're in my way."

Eyes still wet, she grinned like a fool. She grabbed my shoulder and hopped on one foot trying to get her skintight pants off her fulsome legs. She let me go, spinning idiotically for a moment, until the chinos were spinning away onto the floor. We stood a few feet apart, our eyes roaming over each other, re-memorizing the details that had gone fuzzy.

"You're really..." Still smiling, she looked almost bewildered. "You're, like, ripped now."

"What about you? Your body is--I didn't think you could get hotter..."

We'd changed in the absence of the other, and it didn't take a genius to realize that we'd been coping the same way. I'd tried weed and alcohol at first. They numbed me for a little while but when the bad thoughts finally came they were so much worse while faded. Exercise, I'd figured out, was the real mind-eraser. I'd swum and swum and swum--late at the pool or early, it didn't matter--until I was too tired to hold a conversation, too tired to stand, much less to think about her.

Pri must have thrown herself into summer training. Two-a-days, sprints, weightlifting. The soft curve of her stomach had turned into visible abdominals, the baby fat in her cheeks had disappeared. Her tight core, the new prominence of her collar bones, they made her already full breasts seem even larger. She shifted her weight, her strapping brown thighs rubbing together, tilting her aggressively thick hourglass figure in the light. In the spring she was a fertility goddess. Now she looked like a muscle mommy Instagram model.

She grabbed her tits with both hands, scrunching up her shoulders. "I want to jump you so bad. I want to--"

With a growl, I stepped into her and covered her with kisses and thrusting hips and roaming hands. She clawed back at me, almost like we were fighting, raking her nails across my back and sucking the skin of my chest. With quick, playful bites, I lowered myself to the floor, drawn by the heady scent of her aroused pussy, until the only thing keeping me from tasting her holiness was a thin piece of fabric.

Suddenly she tried to pull away. "Oh no. I'm dirty, Jack." She'd been traveling for twelve hours at least, crammed in planes and trains and little rental cars. The smell was earthy and tangy and it made my mouth water. She placed a hand under my chin, trying to raise me back up. "It's really not clean."

I stared up at her, holding eye contact, then ripped her panties down her legs and shoved my face into her hairy muff.

If there was a stronger aphrodisiac on Earth, I didn't know about it. The first few licks were salty, bitter, and slightly metallic all at once, but after a few moments her sharp, glorious flavor came to the front. My tongue slithered down between her labia, collecting the dripping liquid and forcing it to the bubble of suction I'd formed over her hood. I took two handfuls of big brown ass, trying to somehow pull her closer as I ate her meaty pussy.

"Get on the bed," she moaned. "Get on the bed..."

I ignored her. I had what I needed: her big clit in my mouth, the smell of her covering my brain like a hypnotic fog. I dragged my tongue from her taint to the tip of her clit over and over, sucking noisily.

"Get on the bed and I'll sit on your face."

It took a second for the words to penetrate. When they did, we raced there, practically dragging each other. There was no teasing, no laughs, only unselfconscious lust. Pri crawled over me and swung her hips in the opposite direction I expected. I could get at her clit easier if we were facing each other. Instead, she moved to sixty-nine, mounting my face with her hairy asshole over my nose, smothering me under her mountainous ass, pulling my long, angry dick out of my underwear.

We gyrated our bodies against each other. As I sucked and slobbered and caressed her cunt lips with my tongue, she did her best with my disgustingly thick cock.

Pri's mouth was small. We'd always been poorly matched in that way, but she always made up for it with enthusiasm. With one hand cradling my balls, the other pumped me rapidly, her henna-tattooed fingers unable to close around my girth. She milked pearls of precum into her mouth. My glans couldn't quite fit inside so she twisted her neck over and over, gliding her tongue and wet lips over and around the shiny head. She sucked me down like ice cream.

For a few minutes we ground on each other, the intensity slowly morphing into an almost workmanlike oral session. I didn't think we were racing to make the other person cum; it was the opposite. My cock head felt like it had swollen to the size of an apple, nut honey pouring out of my slit, my balls practically sloshing with unspent cum. Pri's already thick labia were flush with blood, her clit as stiff as hard candy, gushing her juice into my mouth.

We were edging each other, drawing it out, building to the nastiest, soul-draining-est orgasms of our lives.

I tried to tell her, briefly pulling away from my pussy slurps. I tried to say that I needed to get inside her. I wanted to bury myself balls deep in this star athlete's cunt. Either she couldn't hear me beneath her big ass or she was caught in some cock trance, single-mindedly draining whatever part of my testicles stored pre-ejaculate.

With a grunt and a twist, I rolled us on to our sides, Pri gripping onto my cock for dear life.

"What's wrong?" She sounded dazed, almost drunk.

I was already on my knees, crawling around her, maneuvering her into position. "I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you until you cum so hard you pass out."

Her thighs jackknifed open and she started rolling onto her back. With a firm hand, I flipped her onto her stomach, kneeing her thighs back together, and mounted her from behind.

Her body settled into place beneath me, her upper back flexing, her big brown ass jiggling. Her hairy pussy glistened in the diamond-shaped gap between her butt cheeks and upper thighs. I lowered myself onto her, placing my swollen head against her steaming hole.

I pushed but couldn't enter. Pri took a stuttering breath, gripping at the blankets, and I pushed again, then again a little harder, a little more pressure, until the crown finally popped inside. We both moaned.

We were so turned on that I expected to glide in, deep, taking her in one stroke on a slick of our cum. Instead there was resistance. She groaned like I was stretching her.

"Fuck, are you okay? When did you get so tight?"

Pri seemed to be on some kind of delay and it took a second for her to understand. When she did, I heard a smile in her voice. "You must say that to all the girls." I slid in another half-inch and she clenched again. "It's big though. Is your dick... bigger?"

"I don't think so," I said with a laughing sigh. My cock was in heaven. "You really are tighter then."

"Liv held on to my toys this summer. I can't keep anything at home so... Uhnn god... I feel... I feel like I reset my vagina."

I rocked against her, pushing a few hot, glistening inches in, then back out. Every few strokes I went a little deeper, massaging her open from the inside. For some reason I thought about the old saying about giving an inch and taking a mile. I laughed again.

"What?"

"Nothing," I said. "I just... I missed you." Keeping my ass high so not to impale her, I let my chest press against the smooth expanse of her back. I kissed her neck and nuzzled in the wavy madness of her hair, slowly penetrating her.

"It still hurts a little," she said huskily. She'd taken to slow, almost tantric breathing. "I used to take you all the way, easy."

"Well, maybe not easy..."

"Now you've gotta open me up slow like Liv--ah." She wriggled below me, as somehow trying to make space in her vagina. "It feels so good though. Have you ever had a bruise that's half-healed and you just keep pressing on it?"

"I think so."

"It's like that, except if you press on it enough you're pretty sure you're gonna cum your brains out." I smiled and pushed deep until she gasped, twisting the blanket in her fist. "Oh goddd..."

With some patience, and some shivering and moaning and grinding of hips, I was able to work my way deep. When my thighs finally touched her ass, I clasped the back of her hand, entwining our fingers, while my other arm carefully slipped around her neck. With the hollow of her throat in my elbow, I finally had a hold of her, literally and otherwise. I picked up the pace until I was jackrabbiting into her gorgeously fat ass, skin wetly slapping, whispering into her ear.

"Oh, Pri, I fucking missed this... I missed you... I wanted you like this... I dreamt about you like this, taking my cock..."

"It's so good..." She tried, almost feebly, to slip her hand down her stomach. She was crushed to the bed with our combined weight, leaving no gap to get her fingers to her aching clit. "I can't get to my--I can't touch myself..."

I locked my lips onto her neck, looping my calf around hers and rolled us onto our sides again, still thrusting into her soaked pussy, ratcheting my hips in quick but deep strokes. The arm wrapped around her neck lowered to grab a handful of her breast. I moved our intertwined fingers, my hand behind hers, between her thighs. We began to fan and stroke her engorged clit together.

"Fuck fuck fuck--" she gasped, her free grabbing blindly for my hair. "I'm gonna--I'm going to..."

She came like an avalanche, her beautiful legs extended, quads bulging, toes pointing. bucking and writhing. I held her tight, pumping her full of thick cock, continuing to stroke her the shaft of her clit. Her hand clamped around my forearm like the safety bar on a rollercoaster.

"Oh fuck oh fuck, too much!" she cried. "Stop stop stop..."

I stopped my savage fucking and held my fingers against her hood with gentle pressure, allowing her to jerk herself off with each orgasmic contraction. She thrust on my hand, breathing erratically, rubbing her hair against my face. Only when her nub had finally stopped throbbing did I pull our hands away, bringing her fingers to my mouth. It tasted sharp and sweet.

I might normally have given her a few minutes to rest--She would have needed some aftercare after that---but I needed more and I couldn't wait any longer.

"I need to cum Pri..."

"Huh?"

"I have to cum still. I'm going to do it inside you, okay?"

"Yes," she said dreamily. "Inside is okay..."

I slipped out of her, my cock slapping wetly against my thighs. Her pussy lips remained open, remembering my girth. Her channel was slick and pink with a thin stream of cum sliding out. Now that she was face up, I guided her limp leg over my shoulder until I was lined up again. Her furry happy trail glittered. Taking my cock by the base, I shimmied forward on my knees.

"Think you can cum again?" I asked.

"Huh," she said, eyes still hooded. "I think so. You gotta get deep though..." She spread her legs for the second time.

I fell forward, crushing her below me, and entered her easily. I kissed her deeply for a few seconds, then pumped my cock straight to the hilt. She moaned against my teeth, eyelids fluttering. I found the pits of her knees and lifted her thick legs in the air, rolling my hips, plunging deep with long, gliding strokes. Her eyes refocused a little, and she wrapped her legs around my waist, fingers clasping behind my neck.

"Grind on me..." she said. "Like, on my clit..."

I kissed her again, tongues slithering, and mounted a little higher. I glided my shaft along her clit like a sex toy, rubbing our pubic mounds together. Angled sharply down, my cock massaged the lovely, sensitive nerve endings hidden deep in her vagina.

"Oooo my guh-uh-uh-odddd..." She buried her face in my neck and moaned. "That's it... Holy crap that's it..."

Grappling like wrestlers, we smashed together madly, pummeling the back of her pussy. She creamed down my shaft, her nipples scraping against my chest. The wet sound of slapping skin changed to a disgusting cunt-stirring glop-glop-glop. It sounded like she was going to fucking squirt.

"I'm gonna cum," I said. "Good girl, you're making me cum. You're my good--"

"Ohfuck oh fuck ohhhh..." Pri came again, headbutting my shoulder. Her legs scrabbled for purchase on my lower back, trying to stay close to me while she lost all coordination. "Guhh-f-f-fuck...!"

I caught her shuddering face with both hands and kissed her one last time, licking the roof of her mouth, biting her lip. I filled her completely with my cock and emptied my balls into her, spraying several ounces of my nasty, hot cum against her cervix. Blast after blast, I rutted against her until I was totally drained.

We collapsed, or rather I collapsed on her, cock-in-pussy, drooling and leaking reproductive fluids on each other. My head rested on her shoulder, Pri limp as a doll, for several euphoric minutes. It looked like her eyes were closed, and her deep breaths had become so regular that I thought she'd fallen asleep.

I didn't know what was coming for us, if there would even be an "us" in a month. Pangs of worry and anxiety, my usual friends, tried to pry their way into the post-fuck coma, but I was too tired and endorphin'd for them to take shape.

I said it without meaning to, without wanting to, without even thinking about it: "You won't find anybody else who can fuck you like that."

A flush of hot shame cascaded down my face. Whether she heard me or not, it was the kind of thought that helped no one and hurt everyone.

"No," she said without moving. "I probably won't.