Free The Real Thing by Cassie Mae Page B

check it now.
    I’m tagged in a few party photos, which is funny because I’m not in any of them. And I have a few new friend requests. The first one I see is from Scott Barrows.
    Right after I tap Accept I look at his photos. He’s cute. Not what I expected, but I’m not sure
what
I expected. Seems like a guy without a face could be anyone, but I must’ve formed some picture in my mind.
    He’s blond … I think. His hair’s too light to be brown, but too dark to be blond. There’s a tattoo on his neck, and another on his collarbone. As I flip through more pics, I notice more tattoos, on his wrists. I try to make out what they say, but the angle is weird, so I make a mental note to ask him. Unless that’s too personal for someone who I don’t really know. But then again, sometimes it’s easier to interact with people online
because
you don’t really know them.
    I tap on his IM and write
Mia2 just friended you, even though my profile says Emilia Johnson. Just making sure you don’t get extremely disappointed when you see that. ;)
    A splash jolts the phone out of my hands, and I’m about to run up the beach screaming because it’s obviously an evolved shark crawling up on land, about to eat my feet, but Eric comes into view.
    His smile widens as his eyes rake over me, and something pings and pops and zaps in my nether regions. I suddenly feel the need to clench my legs together.
    “What’s wrong?” he says, like he totally knows there’s something bugging me.
    “Nothing.”
    He splashes around in the tide some more, and I slide a few inches back.
    “Liar.” He kicks the water again, soaking the bottom of his red board shorts. “You’d never sit this close to the ocean unless you were trying to avoid something scarier up there.” He nods toward the party, and I don’t look over my shoulder because what if I see Bar Babe and she’s tapping her foot waiting for Eric to come back to her?
    “You should get out of the water,” I tell him, changing the subject.
    “You should come in the water.”
    “Not a chance in hell.”
    “Emmy …”
    “Nope.”
    He stops splashing and crosses his arms. “What exactly are you afraid of?”
    I dig my toes into the now-cool sand and start burying them. “Jellyfish. The undertow. Sharks. The tide. Propellers. Surfboards. Rocks.”
    With each thing I list, Eric shakes his head. “Do you see any of those things where I’m standing?”
    “Not going to happen.”
    His chest rises as he pulls in a deep breath. “Fine,” he says, then plops his butt right there in the water. “Ah, shit …” His lips quiver as they form a perfect O. “That’s colder than I anticipated.”
    “Then get out of it, you dork.” I laugh, and more of the tension from earlier eases out the longer he stays here with me.
    “In one second,” he says through shivering lips. He splashes a bit more to soak his T-shirt, and I open my mouth to stop him, but snap it shut when I see the white fabric become wet and see-through.
    After he’s thoroughly ocean-sprayed, he gets to his feet and gives me a wide smile. My eyes narrow. “What are you doing?”
    He doesn’t answer. And before I can bolt, he charges, tackling me and pinning me to the sand. My dry clothes are soaked within seconds.
    “Eric!”
    “If I can’t get you in the water, I’m bringing it to you.”
    I smack his shoulder, then remember his weakness and go right for his knee. One squeeze and he’s off me, jerking away before I can tickle him silly.
    “Damn my Achilles’ heel!”
    A chill runs up my spine as he settles next to me in the sand. I grab the hem of my shirt and wring it out. “Now I’m cold and wet, too.”
    “We can go to the fire and warm ya up. Or …” He scoots closer in the sand, resting his hip against mine. His arm wraps around my shoulder, and he pulls me in to his side. “We can rub our bodies together like this.”
    Laughter shoots from my mouth as he squirms in the sand and nearly lifts me from