“When I get back from New York, we should go buy you a car.”

“Cool.” I wonder why Dad has to leave again. If I had a hot young girlfriend, I know where I’d be. I mean, if I was Dad’s age. If I had a younger girlfriend now, she’d be like twelve and wearing braces. So, no, thanks.

“Be nice, guys.” Dad’s already halfway out the door when he adds, “Oh, and can you tell Mac I have a meeting today, so I’ll call her tomorrow?”

Carey shrugs. “Sure thing, Dad.” Dad nods and disappears.

I wonder what that’s about. He could just text her like usual. What kind of a meeting doesn’t even give him time to send a text?

“Wanna go to the beach?” Carey asks. Obviously, he hasn’t noticed anything strange. Probably because he doesn’t pay so much attention to everything that has to do with Mac. Damn, I’ve got it bad.

“Sure,” I mutter.

When we get to our usual spot on the beach, Devon and Ava are already there.

“Hey, man,” Devon greets us, holding out his fist. Ava does the same, but I don’t hit hers as hard as I hit his.

“Pussy.” She grins.

“Just trying to be a gentleman,” I joke.

“Gentleman!” She starts laughing. “You don’t even know how to spell that!”

“Yes, I do,” I say, like I’m deeply hurt. “G-E-N-D…”

She laughs so loud my ears start ringing. She starts coughing from it, but even that doesn’t stop her.

We sit in the sand, the sun burning down on us. Californian summers are hot, long, and made to be spent with friends. Plus, girls love the golden-brown tan you get. Mac, too? I wonder. And just like that, I’m thinking about her again.

Why did Dad ask us to give her a message anyway? And a weird one, too. Is he cheating on her? I hope not… Although… Do I? I don’t know! Obviously, I don’t want to see her suffer. Fuck. Why do I have a conscience?

“Hunt.”

“Hmm?”

Devon is punching my shoulder. “Where are you, dude?”

I scratch my neck. “Beats me.”

“When are you going to football camp?”

“Two weeks.”

“Awesome. I want you to try out for our team this fall.”

“Sure.”

“We could really use a decent wide receiver.”

I nod. “You could.” He punches me again, and I laugh. “Hey, just telling it like it is.”

“You’re so full of yourself, Tilman.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yup.”

“I’ll race you to the buoy.”

Simultaneously, we jump up, run into the water, and start swimming. It’s not far, but the water’s freezing. California doesn’t exactly have the warmest waves. But now we have to finish what we started. Especially me.

“Fuck, it’s cold!” Devon calls over. But I just laugh, getting salt water in my mouth. Disgusting.

We hit the buoy at the same time, which makes us both smile—even though it’s so fucking cold my balls want to slip inside my body. I’ve got to get out of this ice bath.

Back at the beach, we see that the others have arrived.

“Hunt,” Devon says, “don’t lose it.”

I look up. “What?”

“Jensen.”

I grit my teeth. “I don’t want that cocksucker around anymore.”

“I totally agree, bro,” Devon says, “but let me take care of it.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I’m more diplomatic than you.”

I rub my nose. “You may be right about that.”

“So you’ll stay out of it?”

I nod.

When we walk toward the others, Fisher immediately puts up his hands. “Listen, bro, Jensen is really sorry.”

He’s talking to me, but it’s Devon who replies. “It doesn’t matter. What he did sucked. If you want to stay in touch, that’s your deal, but we don’t want him here anymore.”

“Devon, man, we’ve known each other for years,” Jensen throws in.

“And for years you’ve been fucking up badly.”

“I promise—”

“It was not the first time, man. We’ve all seen you do it before.”

I would have hit the fucker by now, so it’s a good thing Devon’s doing the talking. I stand behind him, arms crossed in front of my chest, just showing what a giant I am. No wonder Mac got scared of me when I was standing in front of her in the kitchen like this.

“Never again, okay?” Jensen says. “I promise—never again.”

A guy who begs and whines deserves no respect. It may be a damn macho rule, but it is what it is. And I can see the same thing in everybody else’s face. Not even Fisher dares to speak up for his friend now.

“Fuck off,” Devon says. “You’re out.”

Nodding, I feel a smile coming on. I didn’t think Devon could be that harsh. So far, he’s always been the one trying to smooth things out between people.

“Come on, man,” Jensen whines. “Everybody makes mistakes. I was drunk. Come on!” He looks at me but sees he can expect no forgiveness here. “Fisher.” He starts moving targets.

“Come on, man,” Fisher mumbles. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”

Jensen keeps whining, trying to convince Fisher to stand up for him, but it’s no use. None of us want him around anymore. When he finally leaves, all the others decide to stay.

Devon holds up his fist, and I touch mine to it. He did a good job. Cold and steady.

* * *

It would be an exaggeration to say everything’s been great since Mom was here. Dad still goes away a lot, leaving Mac with us, but since the first time, there haven’t been any problems. We’re not spending much time together—the woman’s a real workaholic; seriously, she’s worse than Dad—but we accept that she’s the boss now. Especially because she gives us a lot of freedom. Dad’s not all that strict, but Mac’s never left a doubt that she thinks we’re responsible enough to make our own decisions now. I don’t really understand it, cause we made a huge mistake the last time, we were alone together, but I like the idea, that she trusts us. If that’s wise is a completely different story.

Summer’s been fun. Besides Fisher, we hang out with Devon and Ava a lot, usually at the beach, but sometimes at our house. Fisher’s parents are home over the summer, so there’s always somebody around at his house to nag, but at ours, we’re left alone. Plus, we have a pool. And sometimes Mac making barbecue sauce.

We haven’t gotten into much trouble. Though there was one time Carey got really drunk and got sick as soon as we got home, and Mac had to clean up his vomit. Oh, and one time when we were playing football in the yard with the guys, Devon threw the ball so hard it broke our neighbors’ window. And there was the day the guys were over for lunch and we tried to reheat the chili Mac made the day before, but we got sidetracked and forgot about it until it turned into one of those geysers at Yellowstone and found a new home on the ceiling, the cupboards, the walls, and the floor.

Mac had a painter come in, and Dad didn’t even notice our kitchen was a different color. We still owe her one for that.

As far as our friends go, I feel Fisher and I drifting apart a little this summer. We went to elementary school together, and we’ve always been good friends. But something’s changed. Maybe it’s because we spent so much time apart when I was in Miami. But, truth be told, a lot has changed for me this summer, too. With everything happening with Mom, and then the things Mac said… Her words are still fresh on my mind.

What kind of man do I want to be?

The truth is I feel disgusted about a lot of the shit I’ve done—messing shit up at wild parties, fucking tons of girls. I don’t want to keep going on like that. And I definitely don’t want to be a man who doesn’t respect women, or some kind of male hooker.

If I’m being honest with myself, I want to be more like Dad. A man who knows his priorities. Carey and I are top of his list, and he treats Mac well, never making her feel like a nuisance. He’s actually a pretty good role model. Why have I never noticed that before? And where did I get such a negative view of women? Maybe it’s just been a reasonable progression from the way guys my age talk about girls—which is not very respectfully. I mean, it’s weird the girls even talk to us after hearing the things we say about them.

As if a revelation sent from on high, I suddenly realize how fucked up all of this truly is.

As I continue to analyze my behavior, I realize my negative image of women is probably down to my mom, the alcoholic who’ll spread her legs for anybody. I shake my head.

No, I really don’t feel like thinking too far into that shit…

And then there’s Mac. Not a day passes without me fantasizing about her, imagining how she would feel, how she’d get wet, and what kind of sex sounds she’d make. What does she taste like? What would my cock feel like in her mouth, with her tongue licking away at it? What would it feel like to stick my dick deep inside her pussy, so deep she’d scream? And what would it look like for her to ride me, her hot tits slapping up and down? Or what would it be like to take her from behind, my hand smacking her ass? Would she let me fuck her there?

The skin on my dick is thinning—that’s how much I masturbate to her. I’m probably the cleanest guy in California with how much I jerk off in the shower.

But with every day that passes, I realize a little more that my attraction to her is not merely in the physical realm. I don’t just want to fuck her. I want to get to know her, too. I want to know what happened to her, what made her who she is today. I want to laugh with her and listen to her. I even want to listen to her horrible singing. And see her eyes smile. I want her to be happy to see me, like she’s happy to see Dad whenever he gets back from a business trip. I want to hold her in my arms, touch her skin. I want to know about her dreams and ideas. I want her not to be scared of me, for her to stop going into defensive mode as soon as she starts talking to me.

I know it’s my own fault that she doesn’t trust me, that she’s afraid I’ll hurt her again. But I’d rather cut off my own arm than hurt her. Not just because of the way I feel about her. She’s worked wonders on Carey, too.

I don’t know how she did it, but he’s so much happier. After that horrible day with Mom, Mac started talking to him, really talking to him. Mac said it would be better if he talked to someone who didn’t have a relationship with him outside therapy, but Carey wouldn’t talk to anybody else. That’s how I found out she was a therapist, actually. I don’t know what I thought she did before that, but I certainly didn’t imagine her in a proper profession like that. She helps people. But, thinking about it now, it’s the only job I can imagine her in.

In the beginning, Carey said it was tough for him to open up to her, but at some point, he got over it. I can tell, because Carey became so much more relaxed after that.

We never apologized to her for treating her like shit. Although…I don’t really know what my brother tells her in their sessions. Maybe he did apologize. But I know I didn’t. And she doesn’t seem to be expecting it, either. She’s happy we’ve changed, happy we’re treating her like a real person.

I still don’t get why she’s with a guy twenty years older than her, but maybe I don’t have to understand everything. That’s one thing I’ve learned this summer. All I need to know is Dad loves her, and she loves him. I just need to be happy he’s happy. Even if I wish he was happy with someone else, and I could have Mac for myself. Not that I think she’d be interested. I’m seventeen; she’s twenty-five.

But in one year I’ll be eighteen, and then our relationship would be legal in California. Yes, I’m aware this is wishful thinking. As if my age is the only reason she’s not my girlfriend. And it’s pretty hypocritical of me to want to be with her when I can’t understand her relationship with my dad.

And, as I keep longing for Mac on this embarrassing level, I keep fucking Liza. We’re kind of monogamous. It may be exclusive, but it’s still not a real relationship. Just a casual one. Which she repeatedly forgets. We fight about it, and she swears she’ll stop being so clingy…until she forgets and starts thinking of me as her boyfriend again. Anyway. You can’t have it all.

So I’ve drastically changed my attitude toward her. Instead of looking at her as a pussy I get to fuck, I see her as a human being. And she’s grateful for it. She keeps getting down on her knees to show me just how grateful.

Hey, I said I was starting to change. Nobody said I turned into a perfect gentleman overnight. I’m afraid that’s never going to happen.

* * *

One day, Carey goes out with Dad. I have no idea what they’re up to, but I don’t really care. I sit out on the porch with my headphones on, listening to Avenged Sevenfold, a beer in hand, the sun beating down on me. It’s awesome, and life is good.

Until something steps in front of the sun, blocking the light. I open my eyes and squint.

Mac. With the sun behind her, she looks like she has a freaking halo. She’s a goddamn angel.

I must be drunker than I thought.

I take off my headphones. “What?”

Oops. That came out harsher than I intended. She narrows her eyes at me. When she would have shrunk back before, there’s fire in her eyes now. Which makes me go hard immediately.

“Don’t take that tone with me, mister.”

I smile at her ridiculous use of mister. “Sorry, Mac.”

That immediately makes her soften. “Okay. You’re forgiven.”

I shake my head in amusement. “What can I do for you?”

“Much better, thank you,” she says. “I was just going to ask if we should fire up the barbecue. I could use a steak.”

“Great idea.” I get up and stretch, which makes me tower over her. She’s not small for a woman, but she’s still tiny compared to me. Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see her observing my naked torso. And I can’t say I don’t like it. Trying to hide my smile, I flex a little. Her cheeks redden in response. I love it.

But it makes her scurry back into the house, so I let my laugh out as I go start the barbecue. With perfect timing, she comes back out with the meat just as the barbecue reaches prime temperature. So I throw the meat on and close the lid.

Mac sets the table and brings out salad and bread. Then she sits down and grabs my earphones. A smile starts on her face, and her head bobs up and down. It’s adorable.

Fuck! I need to stop using such fucked-up words to describe my dad’s freaking girlfriend!

When I finally set a steak on her plate—medium-well—she takes the headphones off. “I love them.”

“You like metal?” I ask, skeptical.

She shrugs. “I’ll listen to anything. I’m not into one particular genre.”

“Cool,” I mumble. And it is. The more I learn about her, the more I like. “I mostly listen to metal.”

“I know.” She smiles. “It drives your dad nuts.”

I laugh. “Yeah. My old man is definitely not a fan.”

She shakes her head and puts a piece of steak in her mouth. A drip of juice runs out the corner of her mouth and down her face. I watch it drop off her chin and land on her breast.

“Oh,” she says, grabbing a napkin to wipe it off. My mouth goes dry.

But all I see is her touching her tits. Maybe I’m visually impaired, but… It is all…I…can…see. Her hands…on her tits.

When she puts down the napkin, I take a shaky breath and say, “I think you missed a bit.” She runs the napkin across her body again, and I enjoy the show. My dick doesn’t, though. He wants to be let out.

“Did I get it?” she asks, looking down at her chest.

I nod, even though I could keep watching her for hours.

“Oh, good. I’m such a messy eater.”

Gulping, I try to tame my racing heart. “So, uh, where are Dad and Carey?” I ask.

She skewers a piece of cucumber with her fork. “There was some trouble with Carey enrolling at the new school. I wasn’t really listening, but I think some documents were missing.”

“What about me?”

“No problem, I guess. No idea.”

I shrug. Whatever. “So why are you home so early?”

She shrugs, rubbing her napkin at a new drop of steak juice on her cleavage. I guess tits are like a catch basin for all kinds of shit. “I need to write some stuff,” she said, “and I focus better when it’s quiet.”

“What kind of stuff?” The words feel far away, because my eyes are still glued to her tits. But I’m still managing to keep up with the conversation. My dad would be so proud. Oh, wait…maybe not, considering the subject…

“We’re making a new brochure, and I was the final choice to write it up.”

“Wow,” I say, finally meeting her eyes. “Out of how many people?”

She pauses for a moment. “Just me.”

I smile, and she laughs, a bit embarrassed. “That makes more sense.”

“You’re so mean!”

“What? You volunteer to do things nobody else would. Just because you like doing things for other people. It’s nice.”

“Ugh! Nice?”

I laugh. “I thought nice was a good thing!”

“Nice is totally boring.”

“No way,” I say, shoveling steak in my mouth and trying not to glance down to see how her tits are faring. “Nice is good.”

“Okay. Then you’re really nice, too, Hunter. Such a nice boy.”

I pull a disgusted face. She got me. Nice sucks. “I am not nice.”

“Ha!”

We both laugh about the absurdity of our conversation, and she is so damn beautiful when she laughs. So indescribably beautiful. And I don’t think she’s ever been this relaxed around me before.

I love it. And, incidentally, so does my dick.