Page 13 of One Hot Summer

Chapter Seven

ADAM

F or a good five seconds after I opened my eyes, I didn’t remember where I was, or why every muscle in my body hurt in the best possible way.

Then the events of the night before came rushing back to me in strikingly colorful detail: Griffin’s hands on me, his breath in my ear, his body pinning mine to the mattress as I begged him not to stop. The memory alone made my dick twitch.

I lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything second by second.

The desperation of our kisses, the way he’d moaned when I bit his lip, the taste of his skin, the helpless sounds I’d made when he finally pushed inside me.

It had been rough, but not careless. There were moments when Griffin had slowed down, when he’d searched my face to see if I was okay, and that made it so much worse. Or better. Or just more.

I flopped onto my stomach and buried my face in the pillow. He was probably already up, probably pretending none of it ever happened, probably making coffee and reading the news like he hadn’t spent half the night railing his son’s best friend.

I felt like I’d gone through some kind of transformation, but for him it might’ve been just…

a thing. Something to do, a way to blow off steam.

Or maybe he regretted it. Maybe he was sitting on the porch right now, drafting a carefully worded apology in his head and mentally rehearsing the speech about how we needed to “move on” and “pretend last night never happened.”

I yanked the blanket over my head and groaned.

When I finally managed to extricate myself from the bed, I was sore in ways I didn’t even know were possible.

My thighs ached, my abs felt like I’d done a thousand crunches, and my ass—well, it was a miracle I could even stand.

The worst part was, I liked it. Every twinge was a reminder that, for one night, I’d gotten exactly what I wanted.

I staggered back to my own room and headed straight for the bathroom, wincing as I caught my reflection in the mirror.

My hair looked like a flock of birds had nested in it, and there were teeth marks along my collarbone.

Bruises, too, perfect fingerprint shapes blooming right above my hip bones where he’d held on tight as he thrust into me, deep and merciless.

I trailed a finger over one of them, a rush of heat pooling in my groin.

After a quick shower, I brushed my teeth then pulled on a pair of shorts—hissing as the rough material grazed my raw skin—and a soft t-shirt. My body felt like it belonged to someone else, someone special, cared for. Someone brave enough to ask for what he wanted and not apologize for it.

My phone was charging on the nightstand. I picked it up and thumbed through the notifications, but there was nothing important except a message from my professors verifying that they’d received my completed assignments.

Out of habit, I pulled up Dalton’s Instagram.

He hadn’t posted in days, but I scrolled through some of the photos from the humanitarian project he was working on.

Dalton’s smile in the photo looked different from the one he wore back at school—more real, less forced.

A pang of guilt stabbed me right in the gut.

He was out there doing good in the world, and I was here, fucking up the only thing in my life that actually mattered.

Or maybe it wasn’t even a fuck-up, maybe it was just…

sex. A fun memory, a blip on the radar. I was probably overthinking it.

Griffin was attractive, smart, and way out of my league.

People like him didn’t fall for people like me.

He’d said it himself: it was a mistake. So why did it hurt so much to think about him treating last night that way?

I raked my fingers through my hair, pacing the bedroom. I tried to come up with a rationalization that didn’t make me sound like a lovesick idiot. “It was just sex,” I told my reflection. “A one-time thing. Get over it.” But I didn’t buy it, and neither did the hollow-eyed kid in the mirror.

A knock at the door nearly made me jump out of my skin. My heart started pounding so fast it made my ribs ache. I was about to answer when the door cracked open and Griffin stuck his head in. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “You decent?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said, stepping back from the mirror.

He came in, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. His hair was still damp from a shower, and he looked irritatingly put-together, as if he hadn’t just destroyed me twelve hours ago. I braced myself for the inevitable “We need to talk” talk.

“I was thinking,” he said, “if you’re up for it, maybe we could go for a drive today. Maybe check out Cades Cove? It’s always been a favorite of mine and Dalton’s, but I haven’t been in years.”

It took me a full three seconds to process what he was saying, that instead of brushing me off he actually wanted to spend more time with me. “Oh. Yeah, sure. That sounds… awesome.”

“Great.” He ran a hand through his hair, and I caught the faintest trace of a blush on his cheeks. “I’ll make some fresh coffee to take with us, if you want.”

I grinned, despite myself. “That sounds great. Thank you.”

His eyes flicked to the bite marks on my neck, then quickly away. “You okay?” he asked, quietly.

I nodded, heat flooding my face. “Yeah. I’m… yeah. Good.”

He seemed to relax. “Cool. Meet you downstairs in ten?”

“Sure.”

He closed the door, and I sagged against the bed, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

Maybe I wasn’t the only one who didn’t want last night to be just a memory.

I took a minute to breathe, then grabbed my sneakers and put them on.

I shoved my phone in my back pocket and headed towards the door, ignoring the wide smile plastered across my face as I passed by the mirror.

The drive into the park was gorgeous and also about as awkward as you’d expect when you’ve had sex with your best friend’s dad and haven’t figured out how to talk about it.

I spent the first ten minutes fiddling with the AC vents, my phone, the radio, anything to keep my hands busy.

Griffin kept his eyes on the road, jaw clenched tight, not so much as glancing at me except to ask if the temperature was okay or if the seat needed adjusting.

We navigated winding roads, the forest a blur of new growth and summer sunlight. The silence in the car was so heavy I could feel it pressing down on my chest. I tried to think of something, anything, to break it, but everything I came up with sounded either too flippant or way too earnest.

Finally, as we rounded a bend and the valley opened up below, he cleared his throat.

“You’re going to love Cade’s Cove. It was Dalton’s favorite place as a kid.

We used to come up here every summer. He had one of those bug catching kits that came with the little magnifying glasses.

He’d bring it with him and spend hours searching under every rock and fallen tree, trying to find the biggest and best bugs.

One year he got stung by a yellow jacket and told the entire visitor center he was dying of ‘insect venom.’” Griffin glanced over at me and, for the first time since we left the cabin, smiled.

“He wouldn’t stop crying until I promised to get him a milkshake. ”

I laughed, the tension dissolving like sugar in coffee. “Sounds about right. He’s kind of a disaster, but in a good way.”

He nodded, his smile softening. “He’s a good kid.” His eyes darted to mine. “Not a kid. Sorry. I just meant?—”

I laughed. “I knew what you meant. I don’t have any firsthand experience with parents and their children, but it seems to me that no matter how old a person gets, they’re always their parent’s baby. Or at least that’s how it’s usually portrayed in books and movies.”

In a comforting move, he reached over and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry you never had that.”

I waited for the familiar pain to make its presence known, the hollow ache I always experienced whenever I talked about my childhood, but it never came. Possibly because I was too preoccupied with the warmth of his hand which he had yet to pull away from my own.

We pulled off at a scenic overlook and stood shoulder to shoulder, taking in the view.

The valley stretched out before us, a patchwork of green fields and dark forests.

The mountains rose up in the distance, their peaks shrouded in mist, creating the smoky appearance for which they were named. It was breathtaking.

Griffin’s voice dropped, almost to a whisper. “When Dalton was seven, he decided he was going to be a park ranger. Practiced his ‘ranger voice’ every night. Drove us all crazy.”

I grinned. “What happened?”

“He discovered video games and realized park rangers don’t carry laser guns.” He nudged my arm gently with his elbow. “What about you, Adam? What did you want to be when you grew up?”

I hesitated. “A scientist, I guess. Or an engineer. Something where you get to figure out how the world works and then build it better.” I stole a glance at him, half expecting him to laugh. “I know it’s nerdy, but I always liked the idea that if you understood enough, you could fix anything.”

He didn’t laugh. “I think that’s admirable.”

I blushed, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Thanks.”

A family with two little kids tumbled out of the car next to us, and the spell was broken.

Griffin reached into the back seat for a thermos and poured both of us coffee, passing me one of the travel mugs.

Our fingers brushed and something electric zipped up my arm. He didn’t pull away, and neither did I.