8 Chapter 8

“Will flattery get me into your swimsuit?” he asks, taking a sip of his drink.

“It could. You’ll just have to wait and find out.”

“You are gay,” he says, teasing me.

“I could be.”

“Sissy told me you are.”

“Sissy is always right. That woman is pure genius. I just love her.”

He winks at me again, takes a gulp of his drink and smoothly asks, “So I do stand a chance of getting in your swimsuit tonight, don’t I?”

I reply playfully, “Only if you know how to take it off.”

He smiles at me again, hopefully caught up in my boyish cuteness, and responds, “I think I can figure that out, Hawk. Just give me another twenty minutes or so with you.”

We have another two drinks, three drinks, and laugh like high-school boys. We talk the next two hours away, and eventually our suits come off. We wrestle in the kidney-shaped pool, dunk each other, splash water into each other’s faces, laugh some more, and eventually tread water in the deep end.