Spring Break (Phoebe & Madsen Part 1) Read online

  “Move it. I want to sit next to my girl.”

  “Do you mind? I’m napping. Go play like a good boy,” I reply, resuming my position.

  Instead of doing as instructed, Duncan lifts my legs and squeezes into the spot between Kelsey and me, essentially tossing my legs to the side. Now sitting, I shoot him a glare, only to be met with a huge grin on his face.

  “You’re an ass.”

  “I am, but you love me, Sissy Boo-Boo. Besides, I’m your older brother, you need to respect me.”

  “Four minutes older, asshole.” I shift my body so Duncan is forced to scoot closer to Kelsey than he is to me. “Four minutes doesn’t earn you anything. Besides, I think you and I need to have a little sibling one-on-one time later.”

  I lower my sunglasses, allowing Duncan to see my eyes. I’m not sure that we share any sort of twin power, but Duncan and I have always been able to communicate with an expression. The look I’m giving him is leaving no room for interpretation – I know something about him and he isn’t the one who told me.

  His eyes widen quickly before he nods in understanding and glances quickly to Kelsey. She isn’t paying attention to either of us, which is a good thing because as confused as I am about this impending proposal, I would never want to hurt Kelsey. I note Kelsey is forty-seven selfies into her Kardashian-inspired photo shoot. No surprise there; if that girl loves anything more than a good cardigan, it’s a selfie.

  I’ve spent the last hour trying to ignore what’s going on around me. After Duncan rudely flopped his ass in my personal space, Madsen had his moment to fly up into the air like a ragdoll. I did not love watching that. Not because I care about Madsen, let’s not get carried away. I’ll admit, the world would not be the same without his abs nor his back. Mostly his back.

  Sweet mother, his back is like some weird eighth wonder of the world. If I were the kind of girl who stared and noted each line and curve of each muscle on said back, I’d be able to tell you that when he lifts his arms there’s a side muscle that twitches as he shifts his body. I’m not that kind of girl, but if I was and all that.

  Anyway, like I was saying, I’ve ignored what is happening around me. I’m not exactly on board with watching another human being fly through the air. It’s just … unnatural. If we were meant to fly, we’d have wings, feathers, and readily shit on people we don’t like.

  When the guide, Sisco, finally announces this God-awful afternoon is over, I am thrilled. This is evident when I clap my hands and shout “Finally!” Nobody seems to be impressed with my excitement.

  Once we’ve made it back to the shore, Kelsey and I declare it naptime and leave the guys to do whatever it is they do. Before leaving them, I reminded Duncan that he owes me a conversation. I need to talk to him about the bomb Madsen dropped last night. I know Duncan and I aren’t the closest of siblings, especially for twins, but I thought we at least shared the important stuff.

  The walk from the dock to the hotel entrance isn’t too far, but I’m already fading in the energy department after a few hours on the water. The distance feels twice as far as it really is and I know that a nap is absolutely in my future. I need my bed, the air-conditioning on high, and at least two hours of heavenly sleep. Maybe three hours. Kelsey is rambling on and on about what she’s wearing tonight, most of which I tune out, as I scan the groups of new arrivals meandering around the property. Spring Break is in full effect and the atmosphere is electric.

  The moment we enter the hotel the noise level is out of this world. There’s this distinct buzz in the room. It’s literally buzzing, almost like someone has a taser and is taking out the entire population of this hotel. Who in the fuck would have a taser?

  A group of guys and a few girls near the front desk catch my eye. No tasers are to be found, but I do note a guy sticking his phone up to a few people’s ears and them jumping. He must be the non-taser culprit.

  “What do you think, Phoebe?”

  “What’s that?” I don’t mean for my response to be dismissive, but I’m not really engaged in this conversation. I’m more interested in the group of guys my eyes land on. Athletes. There is a way athletes carry themselves and this group is no different. At first glance, you’d assume they are all cocky and arrogant and by the way this group is behaving, you’d be right. Their duffels are a clear giveaway that they are, in fact, athletes. Oh, and their hot-as-hell bodies trying to bust out of their shirts. Yeah, that too.

  “Damn, why didn’t we do Spring Break when I was single?”

  “Kels, your loss is my gain. Holy shit, that’s a lot of eye candy,” I say as I scan the buffet of men before me. “Has to be a swim team.”

  “Really? I was thinking water polo.”

  “Whatever sport it is, I’m pretty fucking glad I’m single,” I murmur as my eyes settle on a tall blond leaning against one of the pillars a few feet away. Just as I finish my inventory of his body – long, lean, tan, and oh so lickable – he lifts his eyes to mine and smiles.

  “Come on, Phoebe. If I don’t get to the room and start my nap, I’ll be dead on my feet tonight.”

  I reluctantly agree to leave the lobby and walk toward the elevators. Standing before the doors, waiting for them to open, I can feel someone’s eyes on me. Not a creepy, make my little baby hairs on my neck stand-up feeling. No, this is a shiver up my spine with tingly jolts. To my southern hemisphere. Part excitement and part nerves, I allow the feeling to take over before slowly turning my head over my shoulder.

  Glancing around the room, I don’t notice anyone looking my way. The elevator signals its arrival and I take a step inside before turning back toward the lobby. As I push the button for my floor, I lift my gaze and catch someone else’s. That of the hot blond across the lobby, offering me a sly smile. I instinctively return it but add in my own smirk and widen my eyes. Smeyesing is my super power – thanks, America’s Next Top Model.

  “Jesus, eye fuck much?” Kelsey says, drawing my attention away from Mr. Hottie.

  “Whatever, you’re getting laid three times a day by the way you’re walking, so leave me alone.” It’s true, she has this weird way of walking when she’s had a lot of sex. The things you learn sharing a dorm room with someone. “You’re the one that insisted I needed to let loose and have fun,” I remind her.

  The elevator doors open on my floor before Kelsey can utter a response and I nudge her with my arm, then walk out of the elevator.

  “See ya in a few hours, Kels.”

  I don’t want to wake up. Technically, I’m already awake, but if I open my eyes then it’s real. I like the peacefulness of napping and the solitude it provides. The moment I allow it to end, well, I’ll have to people. I don’t really want to. Then the memory of that hottie from the lobby pops in my head and suddenly waking up doesn’t’ seem like such a bad idea. I could find him and maybe, just maybe, indulge in a little Spring Break extracurricular activity. That sounds amazing.

  I roll onto my back and stretch at the idea of him. I wonder what his name is. I mean, he did look a little like a Ken doll so I could just call him that. Or stud. Giggles escape me at the idea of actually calling someone “stud.”

  Just as I’m about to give in and open my eyes, something smacks me in the face.

  “Hey, what the…”

  Jumping off the bed, I fling my hair from my face and breathe heavily as my attacker scowls at me from across the bed.

  “What the fuck, Madsen?”

  “You need to put clothes on. You can’t lay around here like … that.”

  My eyes narrow as Madsen points accusingly at me. His tone indicates he’s angry, but the look in his eyes and the bulge in his trunks tell a different story. Interesting.

  “Like what? I was taking a fucking nap. Jesus, you’re such a princess.” I grab the T-shirt hanging on the chair under the window and pull it on with force. “Better?”

  “Not really. That’s my shirt. Jesus, Phoebe. You cannot walk around here in your bikini and roll around on the
bed like that. It’s ... I’m a man, you just can’t do that.”

  “I wasn’t doing anything. I was tired, I crawled under the covers for a nap. I guess at some point I tossed them off. Relax. Jeez. You’re so tense. Whatever will the ladies say? All of that tension can’t be good for the little fella.”

  His frustration with me is escalating. Whoopsie doo.

  “Fine, sorry I was napping in my bathing suit.” His eyebrow raises. My eyes roll. “And, on top of the covers. I will try to stay covered like I’m heading home after my Rumspringa.”

  Now I’m the one frustrated. Not just sexually either. I swear, we’ve been here just a few days and I’m going to need to find someone with his own room. Or, for Madsen to find someone with her own room. Scratch that. That last thought makes my stomach flip and not in the good butterfly way.

  I begin gathering my things for a shower when my phone signals a text.

  Duncan: Want to meet?

  Me: Yep. Give me 40.

  Duncan: Meet you at the bar downstairs.

  I don’t bother responding. He knows I am not going to miss this conversation.

  My conversation with Duncan was short and sweet. I told him I thought he’d been cheating on Kelsey. He laughed until his beer came out of his nose. It was gross and I’m glad his soon-to-be fiancée missed it because that isn’t something you can come back from. I reluctantly listened to my brother regale me with his explanation of the reasons for his secrecy and I ultimately accepted his reasoning.

  He loves her. He wants to marry her. Eventually. I laughed at that but, unlike my twin, my cocktail didn’t reappear via my nasal passage. He seems to think that he can propose to Kelsey, declare his love, and suggest they have a long engagement of at least three to four years while he attends law school. Poor sap. He has no idea that Kelsey has a binder of her dream wedding under her bed.

  Sure, Kelsey is career driven and plans to work for a few years before she has kids. But, she wants to get married too. The minute he puts that ring on her finger it’s game over for Duncan. I can’t wait to see it. Serves him right not coming to me and telling me first.

  I thought for sure he was going to propose at dinner tonight. He made reservations at a Japanese steakhouse and the mood seemed right. Madsen even ordered us champagne. But, instead of proposing, Duncan spilled his glass of champagne on the grill, destroying our food and shifting the mood.

  Instead of celebrating my brother and Kelsey’s engagement, we’re at one of the largest clubs on the beach listening to a DJ who I think is famous. I’m not sure, but there are a few girls here who are ready to throw their panties at him, so either it’s just that they like skinny dudes with head phones or he’s famous.

  Kelsey and I managed to score the only empty table in the room with two stools while the guys went to the bar for drinks. The minute I rest my elbow on the table I know one of the two reasons it was vacant – it’s covered in grossness, which is evident by the way my elbow sticks to it. Gag.

  Kelsey and I take the opportunity to people watch while we wait for our much-needed drinks. Well, she’s people watching, I’m trying to keep the table from toppling over since it appears to be broken. Reason number two it’s vacant. As I peruse the room, I notice this place is filled with every Spring Break stereotype known to man.

  The table next to us houses four guys, I assume fraternity brothers, shouting the word “shot” over and over without taking the shot. I don’t blame them. If I were to harbor a guess, I’d say it’s cheap liquor and tastes more like lighter fluid than anything else.

  This is when Duncan says my snob comes out. Quality not quantity, it’s a thing. To my left is a stage with half a dozen girls dressed in their very short skirts bumping and grinding on each other. If I was a betting girl, and I am, I’d say they’re trying to get Frat Row’s attention. Sorry, girls, unless you’re wearing cheap tequila as perfume you may be waiting a while.

  Ah, to my right is a super-classy wet T-shirt contest. No further description is needed for that other than my brother almost lost his ability to give me a niece when he suggested I enter. Oddly enough, it wasn’t my doing that almost caused the castration. Nope, that was Madsen. He mumbled something about virtue or some shit. Honestly, I wasn’t listening because Hottie McHotterson from the lobby earlier walked in and my ovaries were having their party.

  “Do you want a shot too, Phoebe? Duncan just text me.” Kelsey is shouting over the extremely loud music that stops Frat Row from their perch and draws them to the dance floor. Maybe those girls are wearing cheap booze perfume.

  “Um, sure, thanks.” My eyes scan the room to locate the blond I’m sure is my ticket to a little happy hour of my own. The minute my eyes land on his, he smiles and leans in to say something to his friend without ever taking his eyes off me. The friend turns my way and I widen my smile. This is going to be fun. And then he does it. High fives the buddy.

  Great. Why are guys such douchebags? The worst part is he probably goes home and is a model son. Uh yeah, no thanks. I’m a woman not some sort of score in a video game.

  “Well that’s unfortunate,” I mutter to myself.

  “What is? Do my boobs look okay in this dress? I couldn’t wear a bra.” Kelsey is rambling and adjusting her boobs. At the table. I wonder who is watching us and stereotyping us like I was earlier. Karma. I get it.

  “Your boobs look great. Almost like you bought them. Wait, did you?”

  “No! Oh my goodness. These are all mine, but I’m telling you, after we have kids if these babies fall I’m demanding a new pair. No way I want to go through my thirties needing to wear a bra.” The visible shudder Kelsey gives sends me into a fit of giggles.

  “Yeah well, if that’s your biggest problem at thirty I think life will be okay.”

  “Ladies, how ya doin’?”

  I jump in my seat, knocking the table with my knee. Blondie and his high-fiving friend are standing to my left. Fabulous.

  “Good, how about you?” I shout over the music.

  “Well, I’ll be much better once you tell me your name, beautiful.”

  Dear Lord.

  “Her name is Phoebe and I’m Kelsey.”

  Kelsey shakes the friend’s hand and reaches for Blondie, but he’s more interested in my cleavage. So much promise and yet he’s still a stereotypical douchebag. I look across the table at Kelsey, who is laughing at me. She knows this is my least favorite thing about meeting guys in bars. Is it too much to ask that he look in my eyes when he attempts an introduction.

  “So, what are your names?” I ask the friend.

  “I’m Trevor and this rude bastard is Corbin. Say hello, Corbin.”

  “Hello, Corbin,” Blondie says, trying to be flirtatious. His efforts are typical – a weak wink and awkward smirk.

  “It’s nice to meet you guys. I think I saw you earlier in the lobby?” I ask Trevor since he seems to be a decent guy. Too short for my five-foot-nine self, but nice enough.

  “That was us. I saw you too. You looked smokin’,” Corbin says. If I roll my eyes any more they will literally end up in the back of my head.

  “Thanks. There were quite a few of you in your group.” I glance at Kelsey, who is looking toward the bar where Duncan and Madsen are. The crowd looks to have tripled since they made their way that direction. I doubt we’ll see them anytime soon.

  “Yeah, we’re here with our team. I’m the captain.” Corbin puffs his chest in what I assume is an effort to impress us. It’s a failure on his part but I can’t help but let out a small giggle at his antics.

  “That’s cool, what sport?”

  “Water polo. Best sport there is.”

  “Boom! I told you! Damn, I should have bet you!” Kelsey is shouting and clapping her hands like a baby seal.

  “Ladies, you look like you could use a drink. How about it? Maybe some shots?”

  “No, that’s okay, my boyfriend and our friend are getting us drinks,” Kelsey responds with a huge smile on her face. Nice
.

  “I heard her say she has a boyfriend but not you. Must be my lucky night.”

  “I … yeah, so … hey, Kels, isn’t this your song? We should totally dance!” I jump from my seat and grab her hand while pushing Corbin out of my personal space.

  I may be sacrificing our table in an effort to get rid of these guys, but the level of douchebaggery is high and I just can’t pretend. I’m pretty sure he’s wearing deck shoes and at least half a bottle of cologne. There is no part of my life where either of those two things are okay.

  I push my way through the crowd to the dance floor while pulling Kelsey behind. Once I’ve found a spot for us that allows us to face each other, I smile as Kelsey starts shaking her hips in an overly dramatic and silly fashion. This is in no way her song, but she doesn’t care. No sooner do I think that and her actual song does fill the room. The DJ is remixing the song and it’s only a few beats before I’m dancing along with Kelsey. As I sway my hips and slowly raise my arms over my head, I glance over to the table we left. Unfortunately, the moment I slow my gaze I catch Corbin’s. His face lights up like it’s the Fourth of July. I’m about to turn my back to him to relay my disinterest, when two hands grab my hips from behind.

  This isn’t the scent of a blond douchebag water polo player. No, this is the essence that rolls out of my hotel bathroom after Madsen takes a shower. And that tickle on the side of my neck isn’t the air-conditioner, that is his breath.

  Holy wet panties.

  There is no fumbling or misstep. His hands possessively grip my hips and his pelvis fits perfectly against my ass. Fucking fuck. I can feel every nerve in my body come alive. Each rotation of my hips, his follow. With each beat of the music, I feel a little bolder.