Page 81 of Manhattan State of Mind

“Keep your eyes on the horizon, not your feet,” JP advises. “Your feet know what they’re doing. Trust them.”

Matty, on his board and on all fours, shoots JP a disgruntled look. “Easy for you to say,” he grumbles, attempting yet again to stand and failing spectacularly. He’s on his knees, clutching the sides of his board with a death grip, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he attempts to stand again. And again. Which is funny, because with his sun-kissed surfer hair, you’d think he’d have this down.

“Matty, you’re supposed to stand on the board, not spoon it,” I heckle, getting some decent laughs from the gang.

Taking my jab as a challenge, he lunges in my direction, his board jittering beneath him like a skittish pony.

I brandish my paddle in self-defense. “Watch it, man! Back off.”

In an impressive finale to his performance, Matty goes overboard, his plunge into the lake resulting in a mini tidal wave that drenches me.

He resurfaces, his eyes bulging, gasping, “My trunks!”

Silence. Then from somewhere, a snort of laughter. It spreads like wildfire.

“Fuck me, it’s an ice bath!” Matty yells.

We’re all in hysterics as we watch him try to immerse himself in the water to retrieve his trunks then jump back up again.

“You can reach them,” I splutter through my giggles. “The water’s nearly standing height.”

“I’m going to die here. Ahhh.”

“Easy there,” JP soothes, paddling toward our damsel in distress. “Breathe, buddy.”

But Matty’s too busy being melodramatic. Screaming, he hoists himself back onto the board, and in doing so, presents us with a full-frontal view that no one signed up for. The laughter amplifies to deafening levels.

“Oh my God!” Taylor shrieks.

I shriek in mortified amusement, shielding my eyes too late. The image of Matty’s crown jewels glinting in the sunlight is seared into my retinas. “Christ, Matty!” I yell between bouts of laughter. “There are things in life that cannot be unseen!”

“I’m cold!” he howls. “Normally, it’s much more impressive than this, I swear!”

With a surprising suavity, JP dives off his board into the lake, presumably in a search and rescue mission for the lost trunks. The sight has me flushing despite myself. Who knew trunks retrieval could look so heroic?

Matty flattens himself on the board in a feeble attempt at modesty, mooning us with his hairy ass.

The sight sends us into fits of laughter, knocking each other off our boards like dominoes. I’m overcome with giggles and slip off my board, hitting the water with a resounding splash. Trust, indeed.

Water floods my mouth, quickly quenching the remnants of my laughter and replacing it with frantic thrashing.

Suddenly, I’m yanked upward by a powerful grip around my waist—a grip so secure it can only belong to one person. I break the surface, gasping and sputtering, my lungs burning. I retch up what feels like gallons of lake water.

From behind me, a low, commanding voice cuts through my coughs. “You okay?”

I finally stop spewing lake liquid from my face.

Blushing, I turn to thank him, my legs reacting without conscious thought. They swing around, accidentally finding a perch on his hips. Our bodies align in a startlingly intimate pose.

His eyes widen in surprise, but his arms hold firm around me, locking me in place. The laughter around us fades into a distant hum as we lock eyes, his hold never loosening.

“I…” I start, my cheeks flushing even brighter as I realize our compromising position. “I… um, thank you.”

I am suddenly aware of the distinct shape of something firm pressing against the fabric of my bathing suit. Holy shit, is JPsemi-hard? Over me? In this cold water? The whole thing feels like a miracle.

Luckily the others are too busy laughing at Matty or trying to get back on their own boards to see our intimate embrace.

His lips part as if he’s going to say something, but he tightens his grip around my waist and now I can really feel his cock, hard against my swimsuit-clad pussy.