#porngifs

The shit I’ve seen since we started playing the Florida spring break circuit is the stuff of Tumblr.

I put off completing my history degree for this. Not for the GIFs, but for the music. I love it—don’t get me wrong—but the shine wore off the rock-star life really fucking quick.

Hell, I’m not anywhere close to being an actual rock star, and the shine is gone. Right now, I’m just a college dropout whose girlfriend cheated and dumped my ass before I was even gone a week.

Sarah’s excuse was that the band would absolutely kick ass, and I’d have chicks throwing themselves at me. She assumed I wouldn’t stay faithful to her and decided to beat me to the deed.

That was months ago, and though my lead singer, Kane, thought I should fuck her out of my system, it’s just not my thing. I’m not claiming to be a saint, but Kane’s idea of fucking her gone would solidly put me on ground that I just don’t jive with. I want more.

We got stuck with an early time slot today, and while I would love to say that I’m completely into this set, I’m not. Not at all. It’s a different scene when the sun goes down—an entirely kicked-up vibe.

With the music rolling through me, I glance at the small crowd of college students camped out all around the stage. For the most part, they’re drunk off their asses, and they have no idea what the hell is going on. Most are moving against the music, not with it. Fighting the melody, battling with the beat. Most of them but not all.

The makeshift stage faces the crashing waves, and off to my left, tucked in among the palms and umbrellas, is the anomaly. She’s fluid and graceful. Embracing the music, owning it, picking her way through the complex strains. Her lithe body moves and shifts in the most mesmerizing way. I turn away from the crowd, not wanting to take my eyes off her for a single moment.

She’s one of the only ones here who doesn’t look absolutely trashed. No, this girl looks enthralled, maybe a little lost in the moment.

My fingers are flying across the strings of my Gibson, guiding her movements, putting that look of ecstasy on her gorgeous face. The sun filtering through the palm fronds makes her blonde hair glow like a halo as it tumbles in wild waves around her sun-kissed cheeks. Her perfectly round ass sways and gyrates, matching the rise and fall of the notes emanating from my amp.

The last strains of our final song reverberate across the sand and are met head-on with cheers and loud whoops from our audience.

Kane leans over his mic, arm raised above his head, and bellows out, “Thank you, Destin. We’ll be here all week.” At least, that’s what he’s supposed to say. It sounds more like, Fuck you, Destin, but whatever. He’s the one who picked the shithole we’re staying in, so he has only himself to blame for his less than stellar attitude.

I glance back to where Dancer Girl was as I unplug my guitar and pull the strap over my head. The sun’s shifted just enough that I can’t see a damn thing against the glare. Stepping up to the edge of the stage, I lift my hand, shielding my eyes from the sun, and search the sea of blonde heads and bikinis, looking for her.

“You finally find one who inspires you?” Kane wraps an arm around my shoulders, standing way closer than he needs to. “Did you see the blonde dancing over there? Shaking her ass, swinging her hips, like … ung.” He bites his fisted hand to give more emphasis to his grunt.

I push him off and put my guitar in its case, coiling up my amp cord and tucking it away. It bugs the shit out of me, the way he objectifies her with a handful of crass words.

Choosing to ignore that the same thoughts were just bouncing around in my head, I bite out, “Back the fuck off, man. Do you ever think with anything other than your dick?”

I glare at him over my shoulder, but he’s already focused elsewhere.

Two chicks who look like they got a BOGO deal on boobs are grinding on each other, and their siren call is too much for Kane to resist. Before I have a chance to snag his attention, he slips away, blowing off any of the real work.

But Dancer Girl is gone, too. Goddamn it. With Kane off chasing the boobsy twins, I help our bassist, Nate, and the drummer, Ian, load our equipment into the van. I grab a couple of bottles of beer before heading back out to take in the beach. Maybe look for the blonde in the deep purple bikini.

I pull my shirt over my head and tuck it into the back pocket of my shorts, the hot sand pushing back against every step I take. The next band is kicking into their first set, and the Bieber cover band chases me down the strand until the crash of the waves just about swallows the noise, leaving me in peace.

“You guys were way better.”

I pause and look over my shoulder toward the sage speaker of truths. And it’s Dancer Girl, and that little bikini is working overtime to contain her curves.

“You think? I don’t know; they seem to have something going on there,” I respond, hoping I look a little cooler than I feel.

She pinches at her bottom lip, trying to hold back a smile. “Yeah, it’s … something.”

I watch as she releases her lip and darts her tongue out, licking it. Thank God for my fucking shades because I stare at that lip and think thoughts that Kane would totally approve of.

“Do I have something on my lip?” she asks, covering her luscious mouth with her hand.

I’m so busted, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do but own it. “Nope. Just wondering if you need some help with it.” I raise my eyebrow, just the left one, and wait.

It takes a minute for the smile to spread across her face, but when it does, it’s radiant.

“I think I can handle it …” She pauses, waiting for me to fill in my name.

“Gavin,” I tell her, switching my beer bottles to my left hand and thrusting the right one out to shake. “And you, Dancer Girl? What’s your name?”

She takes my hand, pulling me toward her. I want to be chill, act like my heart isn’t tap-dancing some ridiculous beat. But, when we’re practically chest-to-tiny-bikini-covered-breasts, I’m not so sure I’m convincing anyone.

“Gracyn, and thanks.” She steps back and reaches between us, snagging the extra beer from my hand. Her lips wrap around the top of the bottle, and she tips it back.

Everything about this girl is fucking sexy.

There’s no way this is going anywhere. Not a chance. What happens on spring break stays on spring break—or something like that.

But the way Gavin watches me drink a beer—his beer—makes me feel like nothing short of a goddess. It’s obvious he thinks I can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but even just a couple of feet away, I can see exactly where he’s looking. And, right now, his gaze is making its way down my throat and is headed south to my boobs. I have good boobs—spectacular really—so I can’t blame him for looking.

I drain almost half of the bottle in one go, giving him plenty of time to take me in. A drop of condensation falls from the end of the bottle, landing on my chest. The cool drop of water slides down my cleavage, and Gavin is riveted. I’m not sure he’s even breathing. He’s just standing there, his grip tightening on my hand. His bottle is poised midair, his thumb resting on the side of his lip.

“You okay?” I laugh.

He drags his gaze back up to meet mine and clears his throat. His head slowly dips into a nod, and he replies, “I think I am.”

“But you’re not sure?” It comes out more as a question than a statement as heat washes up my chest to pink my cheeks.

“I don’t know that I’m sure of anything right now, except that I think you owe me for that beer.” He taps his bottle against the one I snagged and lifts it to his lips, taking a sip. “Come on.”

He’s still got a firm hold on my hand as he spins, awkwardly wrapping us up and moves down the beach, away from the bar where his band played. Away from the girls I came down here with. This is probably a very bad idea.

“What do you mean, I owe you? What kind of payment are you thinking you’re going to get?” I dig my heels into the sand, not budging from my spot.

Gavin squares himself in front of me and slides his shades to the top of his head, pushing those sun-bleached curls back from his face. “I was thinking you could buy me a beer, keep me company, and maybe grab some food. Does that work for you?” He pins me with a look, his eyebrow raised.

“It does. Sounds like a fantastic idea actually. Just as long as you don’t have any nefarious intents,” I snark back at him.