Crash

He laughed at that, like I’d just said something as cute as a kitten. “No, a supply of girls is never a problem. But if they’re the ones that come aknockin’ at my door, why should I be the one to do all the work?”

That nasty taste in my mouth might have just been a bit of vomit. “You’re a pig,” I said, shoving him again. Harder so my hands slapped his chest, but it was like nothing more than a gust of wind had come at him.

“Never claimed to be anything but,” he answered, raising his hands in surrender when I came at him again with my palms. “I also knew you wouldn’t stop your staring until you learned the cold, hard truth. So, consider yourself warned. I might not be the kind of guy that reads textbooks at the beach,” he said, glancing back at my open book, “but I’m smart enough to know girls like you should stay away from guys like me. So stay away.”

My glare was now officially a glower. “That won’t be a problem once you stop all but holding me down,” I said, waiting for him to move. He did, but it was still with that cocky grin. I hated that kind of grin. “And you can consider yourself warned that you are trespassing on my personal property”—I grabbed my pink beach blanket in explanation as an eruption of barking sounded behind me. I knew that dog was a kindred spirit—“and beware of dog.” I sneered up at him as he situated himself beside me, still in a straddling position. “You can go now.”

That wiped the grin from his face. “What?” he asked, the lines of his forehead pulling his gun-metal grey beanie lower. And what kind of a person wore a cotton hat to the beach on a scorching hot day? The mentally deranged ones I need to stay away from, that’s who.

“Scrambo,” I said, waving him off. “I’m done wasting my last few precious minutes of a lovely summer afternoon on you. Thank you for the eye candy distraction, but I can see it’s nothing more than that. Oh, and by the way, your butt is not nearly as impressive up close as it is at a distance.”

I didn’t have time to curse myself for my latest bout of verbal haste because his mouth fell open for a second. It was exactly the reaction I’d been hoping for. “You girls speak a language I’ll never understand, but are you saying what I think you are?”

“If it involves you getting up and walking out of my sunshine and my life from here until the end of time, then we’re on the same wavelength,” I answered, sliding farther down on my towel to realign my face with the sun, trying to pretend his face wasn’t the thing naughty thoughts are made of. Save for a long scar that ran the diagonal of his left cheekbone, it could have been classified as mind-dumbingly perfect.

Perfectly not my type. I had to remind myself of that. And convince myself, too.

His eyebrows were still squished together, like he was trying to figure out the most riddling of riddles.

“What’s that dumbfounded look for?” I asked.

“Because I have yet to come across a girl who sends me packing,” he said, looking at me with something new in his eyes.

“So sorry to upend your world of non-respect for women, but it seems my work here is done.” I sat up, shuffling my textbook into my bag.

“What kind of dog is that?” he asked abruptly, taking a seat on the sand beside me. The low notes were gone from his voice.

I peered over at him as I continued tossing my beach day must haves into the bag, gauging to see if he was serious. He’d just gone from all but riding me on the beach to casual conversation. “He’s got a bunch of breeds in him,” I began slowly, watching him from the corner of my eye to see if this was some new trap.

“So he’s a mutt,” he said.

“No,” I said, looking at the shaggy bundle still baring his teeth in Jude’s direction. “He’s well-rounded,” I added.

“Well that’s the best attempt I’ve heard yet of making a piece of shit seem less shitty,” he said, spinning the football on his finger.

“No, that’s my way of seeing something for what it actually is,” I said, sure I sounded more defensive than I’d intended. “That ‘piece of shit,’ I’ll have you know, was hit, kicked, underfed, and lit on fire by his previous owners who dropped him off at the shelter when he had the nerve to devour an unattended tuna fish sandwich. That ‘piece of shit’ was scheduled to be put down today for no other reason than drawing the short straw in life.”

Jude looked away from me, back at the dog. “You just got this guy today?” he asked, making a face. “Out of all the dogs you had to choose from, you picked the one that was the sorriest excuse for a dog I’ve yet to see.”

“I couldn’t let him be killed because the slime of the earth ruined him, could I?” I asked, nearing a wince as I wondered what my parents would say. “I mean, look at him. He’s been brutalized by humans and the only thing he’s concerned about right now is protecting me. How could I not save him?”

“Because he’s the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen,” Jude said. “He’s all but hairless and, I don’t want to get any closer because I fear he might rip my balls off, but I’m pretty sure that putrid smell is coming from him. Unless . . .” He leaned into me, moving my hair behind my shoulder as his nose all but connected with my neck. My instant reaction was to shudder, this boy knew what he was doing and how the lightest graze of fingers over just the right patches of skin or a warm breath fogged over the right spot of the neck could all but crush a girl’s most virtuous of intentions, but I fought the shudder down. I wasn’t going to be one of the girls that shuddered in his presence. He didn’t need another boost to that bloated ego. “Nope, I only smell sweet and innocent coming from over here,” he all but whispered against my neck before looking back at the dog. He grinned at me, knowing exactly what he was doing and knowing exactly what I was trying not to do. “I’d suggest taking that flea bag through a doggie car wash a few times.” He laughed as the dog began barking again at Jude’s proximity to me, but he leaned away from me again. “What did your parents think when you brought Cujo home?”