Free At Risk of Winning (The Max Masterson Series Book 1) by Mark E Becker

see the “green hiss,” a momentary flash across the horizon. Max had never seen it, but he had repeated the legend to the uninitiated at every rest stop on the trip down I-75. All eyes were focused on the horizon as he moved up behind his companions with a large squirt machine gun filled with ice water.
    Just as the sun touched the water, Max trained the blast of the water on the back of the heads of his classmates. In one sweep, he soaked his startled victims. “There’s your hiss! Did you feel it?” The screams were his desired result and began the raucous party that lasted long into the night.
    Gradually, the last stragglers turned in, and Max quietly slipped away with Debbie hand-in-hand, walking barefoot through the dunes. An experienced navigator from his many visits as a young boy, he was careful to steer wide of the sandspurs that lined the path. At the shore, Max held her tightly as the moon slid beneath the horizon. This was a special time, when the darkness took over and the stars seemed to hang at arm’s length. he had no difficulty picking out the Southern Cross from the constellations that he had committed to memory. Max turned toward the house, lit against the night sky, then turned and kissed her slowly, their lips full and warm. “I want you.”
“Max, you didn’t exactly have to go out of your way to impress me.” “I know, but I just want you to know.”
“What?”
“There will always be other women.”
Debbie didn’t need to respond. Not verbally. her body pressed
    against his, and the silence took over. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold him for long, but she savored this moment and pressed her full breasts against his chest. he kissed her with the hot passion she sought so urgently. Their tongues intertwined for moments that turned into minutes, their hands roaming in increasingly bold strokes. They briefly parted, panting from the intense passion.
    “You’re with me now, and I have you all to myself,” she said in a husky voice. She grabbed his hand tightly and led him to a solitary depression between the dunes.

u ChAPTER EIGhTEEN
    One of the most dangerous aspects of spring break is not the amount of alcohol that a college student can consume in one evening nor their ability to go without sleep for long periods. The prodigious amount of youthful hormones flowing through the young blood vessels of this age group is the main cause of high risk behavior. Sure, the alcohol and sleep deprivation enhance it, but the core reason is those ever-present hormones.
    After four days of nonstop partying, sunning, and beach paddleball, the law students were turning bright red, sometimes purple, in anticipation of peeling skin off their exposed areas on the trip home. It is mystifying to Floridians to see tourists and spring breakers spending hours on the beach until their previously healthy flesh becomes radiation damaged. To tan naturally, the ritual is supposed to start out with a short exposure to the sun that increases over a long period of time, allowing the skin to heal. A suntan is actually dead skin on top of live skin, baked golden brown over time.
    On spring break, all of the lectures about skin cancer go right out the window, and the obligatory sunburn frequently occurs after the first day on the beach. By the time the redness appears, if you haven’t taken cover, your skin is on its way to a sickening purple color. This, together with the searing pain, can compel even the drunkest spring breaker to seek shelter in an air-conditioned building. These buildings are commonly known by locals as “bars.”
    Bored with the luxury of a free stay in a beach house, the entourage decided to pack into the SUV for the fifty-mile drive along the coast to the spring break mecca of Panama City Beach, where over a million college students congregate each year to see how close they can stand next to half-naked members of the opposite sex. It is here that the inhibitions of normally studious college