"Sam, hey, long time," I said and rubbed the shirt on my oil-slicked hair. She reached up. I thought she was going to run her hands over my head, and I dipped my head forward in anticipation, but she didn't touch me. Instead, she drew back and showed me a blade of grass that must have stuck to my head when I was wrestling with Bo.

“Are you and Bo always fighting?” It wasn’t really a question but an observation, as if she’d encountered this type of male friendship before, and I suspected she had with Will. Before I could answer, though, Adam and the rest of the crowd had drawn level with us.

"Sam," Adam said, drawing Sam in for an easy hug. "I'm glad you stopped by. Finally taking me up on one of my offers.”

This sounded vaguely sexual and I frowned at Adam. He said he had no claim on Sam. Adam caught my stare and rolled his eyes. “Loosen up” he said silently. Rolling my shoulders, I tried to let go of the tension that had taken hold.

“How’s Finn doing?” Sam asked. Finn’s grandfather had died earlier in the spring.

"He's doing okay. He'll be glad to see you. I think you're the one person who gets what's going on in his head.” Adam took Sam by the shoulder and started walking her down the incline. The rest of their conversation was hard to hear as they merged with the larger crowd of people who'd gathered for an impromptu Friday pool party. I guess it was summer and no one had to work.

"Turn that frown upside down, Princess." Bo crept up on me. "She turn you down?"

"No." I said curtly.

"I keep telling you to save the 'let's go out for blood tests' until after the second date."

"You're an asshole, you know that right?"

"But a hot one,” he replied.

"If AnnMarie wasn't watching us right now looking like she'd stab me if I started whaling on you, I'd have my boot so far up your ass you'd be feeling it in your throat."

"I love it when you talk dirty to me."

"How is it that you screwed half the western seaboard and still came away clean?" I asked.

"Dunno, lucky, I guess?" Bo shrugged, unconcerned. Then he turned to me. "I was lucky. I know this. I should've been more careful and I admire that you take care of yourself and the girls you sleep with. It shows that you're far more decent than I am but I also think you use this whole STI and cheating thing as a way not to get involved. So you don't want to get involved right now? That’s all good, but don't do stuff to shoot yourself in the foot. You're better than that."

A heart-to-heart from Bo. My screw ups must have been more obvious than I'd wanted. "Let's talk about Noah and what his chances of winning his upcoming match are."

"Sure, don't want to talk about your feelings, that's fine. Just know that I'm getting it regular because I know what I'm talking about."

"Bullshit, you fool." I shook my head in mock disgust. "You're getting it regular because AnnMarie didn't see me first."

Bo grunted but we were back to our regularly scheduled insults which meant all was right in our world. That Sam hung out with Adam and Finn and looked happy and relaxed didn't bother me at all. That she came by and made casual small talk with me like there wasn't an electrical current that passed between us didn't faze me. That she looked hotter than a Sports Illustrated model in her two-piece bikini that showed off a pretty impressive set of legs, a perfect gap between her thighs, and a small-but-juicy rack didn't cause me to have to go inside and jack off in the bathroom. I just did it because that's what guys do. They jerk it while fantasizing about girls that they couldn't have, but wanted so goddamned bad.

I leaned my head against the bathroom door and then carefully cleaned myself up. “Gray Phillips, you are a stupid son of a bitch,” I declared to the mirror. Bo was right. I’d been fucked up bad by a girl and it was ruining me. After my impromptu bathroom session, I wasn't sure I was relieved or discouraged that Sam was still there. I found her in the kitchen and all the jerking in the world wasn’t going to solve my problem because I could feel a semi rising in my shorts just looking at her.

“Sam.” She jumped at my over-loud voice.

“God, you scared me.” She gave a nervous little laugh. Everyone else was still outside and for once, we were alone.

“About earlier,” I started but stopped when she raised her hand, palm facing me.

“You know what. It’s fine. I can see by the crowd that you have plenty of coffee offers to choose from.” She waved her hand, gesturing toward the front lawn where people were still making use of the makeshift slip and slide.

Coffee? Shit man, she was still upset about two fuckups ago, not the most recent one. I blew out a big breath. There was a mountain of apologies and explaining I was going to have to do to make this right.

“No, there was no rejection the other night,” I said firmly. The only way to salvage this was to make sure she understood that I still wanted her. “It was a delay. The coffee wasn’t in the right mug. I needed a different mug.”

“A different mug?” She looked at me like I was crazy—and maybe I was.

I drew a hand through my shorn hair. “Yes, the one we’d used felt like someone else had drank out of it.”

“Oh, so you need a perfectly new bed, or excuse me, mug for coffee every time you have it? Good luck with that.” Sam turned and began throwing open kitchen cabinets and them slamming the doors shut. I knew she wanted me to leave, but I wasn’t going anywhere. “I mean, how many new mugs do you offer to girls you invite over for coffee?”

“A lot fewer than you seem to think, but it just looked like you weren’t ready to have coffee.”

“Wasn’t ready? I was climbing you like a pole in the hallway of the bar and even after you accused me of cheating, I stupidly issued you another invitation. I’ve never been so ready for coffee!” she shouted at me.

“I know. And I’m sorry. I want your coffee. Bad,” I pleaded.

“Well,” she huffed. “You aren’t getting any.” She slammed the last cupboard closed and stomped out.

When dusk had fallen and Adam and Finn had fired up the grill, I'd made up my mind. She needed to give me one more chance. I’d show her exactly what I was feeling. People surrounded us and there wasn't any good way for me to extricate her from Adam's side. But when everyone gathered around the fire pit, he couldn’t sit in both chairs beside her so I sat on her right before anyone else could. I’d convince her somehow that I wanted her more than anything and that all the shit she had in her condo and the jewelry she wore didn’t matter. Around the patio, the after-dinner conversation turned to zombie survivalist techniques.

"If we did live in a post-apocalyptic world, people who worked with their hands would have a better chance of survival,” Bo said. "So Noah, Gray, and I are going to be around." I think that was Bo's weak wingman attempt. Hook up with Gray, he'll save you if the zombies come after you. I wasn’t sure that was helpful since we weren’t even close to needing to jump someone’s bones for survival’s sake.

"Hey, I can kill a few with my instruments. Drumsticks or the broken throat of the guitar is going to do some damage,” Adam protested.

Sam offered her up her own viability. "Then I'd be a valuable asset. I could skewer people with my needles and knit clothes out of fibers."

"Okay, you're in," I said immediately. She cocked her head and gave it a shake like she couldn't figure me out. I was going to make it clear to her that I was interested even if I couldn't get her alone.

"What about the repopulation of the human race?" a dark-haired girl with a ruffly swimsuit that barely covered her impressive knockers said coyly.

"Do you need some instruction? I can help out," another guy joked. I kept my eyes on Sam to see if she was interested in anyone else in the group. Her eyes were pinned on a square patch of concrete between her feet.

The girl scoffed. "I don't need instruction. I'm already amazing." She stretched her arms and the move showcased her admittedly perfect form to all those around.

"That's what they all say," muttered the guy who'd been rejected.

"Oh yeah? What makes a girl good in bed then?"

This time Sam spoke up. “Yeah, Gray, what makes a girl good in bed?”

Her eyes held a glittering challenge and everything, including the meat between my legs, rose up to meet it. I jumped in, feet first, without a chute. I'd either catch the wind or smash to the ground, but she was giving me an opening whether she knew it or not. “Enthusiasm,” I responded without delay.

"She's there, doesn't that mean she wants it?" Sam said softly.

I shook my head, staring at her hard. "It's not the same thing. When you’re going down on her, she lets you know how good it feels by telling you, grabbing your head, squeezing her legs together. When you’re inside of her, she's squeezing the shit out of your piece and milking every last orgasm out of you. Guys want to see and hear and feel how hot she is for you."

"Sounds exhausting," said someone else. "What makes a guy good in bed?”

"Someone who’s paying attention.” My gaze was fixed on Sam.

"That's it?" she asked.

"Yup. Every time I touch a girl, I'm cataloguing the sounds she makes, the clenching of her muscles, how wet she is getting. It's my responsibility to make sure that she is wetter than an April shower and I do that by paying attention.”

“But you like your girls pure, right?” Sam asked sarcastically. “Virgins only?”

I shook my head. “No, absolutely not. I don't care how many partners she’s had before me so long as I’m the only one in the bedroom with her at the moment. I gotta know she’s with me every step.”