We Were Here: A New Adult Romance Prequel to Geoducks Are for Lovers (Modern Love Stories Book 1) (28 page)

“Why are there hockey pucks in the garbage?”

“Those are biscuits?” It came out as a question because I still wasn’t convinced they were made of dough.

Something hard hit the floor and skidded across the wood. “If it looks like a puck, sounds like a puck, moves like a puck . . . it’s not a biscuit. We should save this and play street hockey.”

“You got plans this morning?” I rolled off the couch and stood up. “We could play in the driveway.”

Quinn and I spent most of our time working. Him at some art space gallery as an intern. Any free time I had I spent practicing with the band. Mark found a rehearsal space for us in an old warehouse. At least Ramirez didn’t have to lug his drum kit around unless we had a gig.

We’d made a goal in front of the row of carports with two chairs. I pulled out a couple of old tennis rackets and we taped them to broom handles to bat the puck-biscuits toward the goal. The rollerblades hadn’t been the brightest idea, but definitely upped the complication factor of our new game.

We declared Quinn the winner based on an arbitrary and complex point system. Road rash bloomed on his forearm and a small tear in the shoulder of his T-shirt. I sported a nice scrape on one knee where I’d slid trying to steal control of the biscuit.

“We need a better name than Biscuit Ball if this is ever going to take off.” Quinn and I sat on the front steps of the apartment building, nursing beers and our wounds.

“How do you apply to get a sport into the Olympics?” He picked a tiny piece of gravel out of his arm. “I’m imagining sleek unitards or singlets, and matching shin guards. Maybe a cross between what the speed-skaters and wrestlers wear.”

“I think you need sleeves.” I gestured to his bloody arm.

“Maybe wrist guards, too. Something inspired by
Tron
. Or maybe Storm Troopers.”

Ignoring his costume designs, I waved at Maggie, who was walking up the sidewalk.

Smelling of coffee, Maggie gave us a tired wave and joined us on the steps. I offered her my beer and she took a long sip.

“Are those my biscuits broken up all over the driveway?”

“We had some issues with inconsistency in the structural integrity.” Quinn ignored her scowl. “For next time, I think you need to burn them a little longer until they’re harder. Go for full charcoal, please.”

“I’m never baking for you two again.”

I held up my palm for a high-five with Quinn. “Our diabolical plan worked.”

“How are we supposed to take over the world when you keep announcing our plans? You are the worst Bond villain ever.” He shook his head in disgust. “Maggie on the other hand would make an excellent Bond girl. We only need to find her the right bikini.”

Maggie gave him a side-long stare. “Speaking of bikinis . . .”

“Yes?” My voice sounded as overeager as I felt. At least this time it didn’t crack.

“Are we roof beaching? Or did your plans change to bleeding all over the front steps instead?” She pointed at my knee. It looked worse than it felt.

Q jumped up. “I’ll meet up with you in a bit. I need to see a man about a plan.” We watched as he pulled his bike key out of his pocket and unlocked his bike from the rack. With a wave, he sped off across the lawn and down the block.

“He’s a strange man,” Maggie murmured.

“If you haven’t noticed, we’re all a little weird around here.” I bumped her shoulder with mine.

Selah arrived home from her latest temp job and joined us on the steps. “I feel like we need a theme song if we’re going to sit here much longer. It’s like the opening scene for a rom-com movie or sitcom about a puckish group of friends.”

“You know what would be awesome?”

“Like, let’s go to the roof and totally soak up some gnarly rays.” I imitated a surfer.

“Only if you stop speaking with that accent.” Selah scrunched up her face in disgust. “What happened in the driveway?”

The girls giggled as I explained the rules and cleaned up the first and last Biscuit Ball course.

“You know, Ben would be ultra competitive about winning this game.” Selah tossed the last of the broken biscuits in the dumpster.

“It’s not even a real game.”

“He has to win at everything. If you want to mess with him, challenge him to a title match.”

“Spinning Around Over You” ~ Lenny Kravitz

I’D BEEN PRETENDING
to read the same two pages of
Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Universe
for the past ten minutes. Sweat rolled off my forehead and blurred my vision. Hotter than a sauna up on the roof, tar paper absorbed and reflected the heat beneath my chair. I would never be able to smell either coconut or baby oil again without remembering this summer.

The only slice of shade fell on the far side of the stairwell, but no way would I move. Not now. Not when Maggie had loosened the strings to her bikini top. Sure, she lay on her stomach and I couldn’t see anything, but my body still reacted.

There was hope she’d forget she untied her top, and roll over, or sit up. Where there was hope, existed possibility. I’d been living in Hopeville for the last two years.

Also known as the Land of Friends.

I didn’t even know how it happened. Or when.

That wasn’t true. The
when
happened when I walked by her dorm room freshman year. I heard her laughter down the hall, spilling out of her open door. When I looked inside, I couldn’t see her at first. My focus caught on a giant Bryan Ferry poster on one wall, my then favorite musician. A loud thump had drawn my focus to the floor where a tousled mane of red hair flowed over the side of the twin bed. Legs kicked in the air as the laughter turned to cackling and I found myself smiling at the ridiculous creature in front of me. When I’d worked up the courage to go back to meet her, she was gone, but her cute, and very forward, roommate had been there instead. I let my hormones take over.

Maggie’s same crazy laughter broke through the haze of memories. I dropped the book and bent to pick it up, setting my beer on the arm of the chair.

Maggie shifted on her towel. My eyes instinctively focused on the strip of exposed skin below her clavicle.

“Enjoying your book?” Selah asked, tilting her head back to stare at me. Her towel lay next to Maggie’s, but she rested on her back. The straps of her bathing suit had been rolled down to avoid tan lines. Her boobs strained to burst free from the black fabric. I’d seen them enough times to know they were amazing, but not the ones I’d been obsessed with.

“Yeah. It’s hysterical.” I turned the page, pretending to pay attention.

Selah laughed. “I’m sure it’s even better right side up.”

I glanced down and realized she was right. Embarrassed, I quickly flipped the book and brought it closer to my face. “Shut up.”

She snickered and rolled over.

“I’m too hot.” Maggie tied the strings of her top and sat up. Her suit had shifted to expose a pale pink half-circle on her left breast.

I swallowed heavily before offering her my tumbler of water.

A few drops spilled on her chest as she chugged the liquid. Two droplets sped down the curve of her breasts. I traced their path and envied them.

Selah fake coughed and underneath the sound I heard “staring.”

I needed to escape. “I’m going to get more water. Maybe a beer. I could go for a beer. Anyone else want anything?”

The girls asked for wine coolers. Anything they wanted, as long as I could get off the roof before fully tenting my shorts.

I raced down the stairs to the slightly cooler apartment. Standing in front of the fridge, I rolled my neck and let the cold air chill my skin.

“Everyone up on the roof? I was thinking we could play dirty Scrabble.” Quinn passed me while I stood there with my head in the fridge. He didn’t wait for an answer. The door closed behind him with a loud thump.

Once I had my body under control again, I grabbed a beer and the remaining three wine coolers in the four-pack.

The sun blinded me when I kicked open the door to the roof. I quickly clamped my eyes shut and nudged my sunglasses down before reopening them.

I screeched like a girl and clamped them shut again to block out the scene in front of me.

Quinn was naked.

Again.

His ass looked like two dinner rolls browning in the oven. The image seared itself onto my brain. I could never forget the visual as long as I lived.

Attempting to cross the space between him and the girls, I navigated with my eyes closed. Something hard slammed into my toe. Or more accurately, my toe slammed into something metal. Like a chair or table leg. I screamed a stream of obscenities and set the drinks down on the ground. Straightening up, I finally peeked out one eye.

“Why are you screaming like a little girl?” A few feet away, Quinn rolled over onto his back.

Nope. Never forgetting that image either. I groaned. “Damn it, Quinn!”

Quinn walked over to me, completely nonchalant, not caring that he stood naked on a roof in broad daylight. “Are you hurt?”

“This isn’t a locker room, Q.” I rubbed my forehead with the back of my hand while standing on one foot. “Put a towel on or something.”

“Something bothering you?” He turned his back to me to grab one of the wine coolers.

“Your naked ass, as a matter of fact,” Selah said. “No man should have such a perky ass. It’s unfair. No cellulite. Doesn’t jiggle.”

“Why thank you, Elmore.” Quinn chuckled. “I fully believe in
Omnia Extares
if you’ve got it
.
”

I covered my face with my arm. “I don’t think the college’s founders meant ‘let it all hang out’ literally when they chose our motto. Put on some shorts.”

“Can’t you respect a man’s need for a lack of tan lines?”

“I’m sorry, but I really can’t. Who cares if your ass is tan or not? It’s called ‘where the sun don’t shine’ for good reason.” I groaned again. Beer. I needed my beer.

“I think you must be jealous. Do you have ass envy, Gil?” Quinn wrapped a beach towel around his waist. “Show us yours and the girls will vote on who has the nicer butt.”

I ignored his wiggling eyebrows and resumed my seat in the beach chair.

Maggie lifted her head and gave me a wink. “My vote would be for you.”

I leaned over her and whispered, “You’ve never seen my ass.”