Tips.
Pitches.
Right off my lap.
Everything happens in a heartbeat.
One second, she’s grinding on me. The next, she’s toppling off the side of the boat and into the lake.
33SUMMER
How to instantly become a social media sensation? Fall into the lake while humping your fake fiancé.
Once I pop up from the murky depths of the lake, he’s fighting like hell not to laugh at me.
I’m soaked, head to toe, and covered in algae or Central Park Loch Ness guts. Take your pick. Both are fetid.
“I’m a sea monster!” I say, skimming my hand over my soaking wet and utterly disgusting hair.
Oliver kneels on the edge of the swan boat, offering his hand as he cackles.
“You’re evil! You’re laughing at me. You’re a terrible fake fiancé.”
He rolls his eyes as he tugs me up by my hand. “I’m an amazing fake fiancé. Get back here, you sea monster of mine.” His tone is playful as he pulls me up out of the brackish water. I sling one foot over the edge of the white plastic boat then haul myself up the rest of the way, his hand an anchor.
I am an ungraceful, sopping, smelly mess.
I shove the strands of wet, tangled hair from my face.
“I told you not to do that!”
I jerk my gaze to the bearded man who rented us the boat.
He’s on the shore, pointing at us, flapping his arms. “I told you the rules!”
“Gee, thanks. I wanted to fall in the water. It was on my bucket list. Go to Central Park, ride a paddleboat, and fall in the cesspool known as this lake,” I shout back.
“I meant no making out, lady. Serves you right,” he yells.
Oh, well. He might have a point there.
He’s not the only one watching us.
He’s flanked by spectators with their cameras trained on our boat. Natch. After all, what’s funnier than a girl falling into a big pond in the city?
I do the only thing I can. Smile and wave. Just smile and wave.
I park my butt in the plastic seat next to my fake fiancé, and we pedal to the shore, where the bearded man glowers at us, telling us to never come back again.
“That won’t be a problem,” I assure him.
As we get off the boat and walk away from the dock, Oliver peels off his T-shirt and hands it to me.
My brow knits. “You’re giving me your shirt?”
“Well, your clothes are a little bit wet.”
I run my eyes up and down his carved chest. “Guess I get a nice view and a shirt. It is my lucky day.”
“Play your cards right, and you can get a shower at my place too.”
And let me tell you, I practically run out of the park for that chance.
I peel off his gray T-shirt then my wet sequined dress, dropping them onto the tiled bathroom floor.
I wiggle my eyebrows as I unhook my soaking wet bra. “I’m sexy wearing Central Park lake water, don’t you think?”
Oliver smiles as he stretches past me to turn on the shower. The water runs, and he unbuttons his jeans then unzips them. “Let me tell you something, Summer. Your sea monster perfume isn’t going to deter me from fucking you, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I shiver from his words, from seeing this side of Oliver Harris, from hearing him say fuck as it applies to me. It’s surreal, but heady too, to experience him like this—wanting me, staring at me, heat and abandon in his eyes.
Even in my swamp creature state, all matted hair and stinking of pond scum, he still gazes at me like I’m not just the object of his desire, but like I’m precious too.
Like fucking isn’t just fucking.
Like it’s so much more.
