When I Met Him In The Summer

Seventeen

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say when my head stops spinning.

The only thing I'm thinking right now is if Jake too knows, but that's not possible; Jake is not one to keep quiet about such things. I need to get a grip and stop freaking out any time it comes up that my secret(s) could be out there.

I watched Austin and Jake most of the time. They were surfing...there was no way he could have seen—well fuck, it's just now that I realize I did not even get his name.

"Don't act stupid, Danny. You know exactly what I'm talking about," he says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I gasp excitedly as Val finally texts back with dancing and confetti emojis, and he curses under his breath. It's working...he thinks I'm not paying him any attention.

I put my phone down after I hit send, push up from the bed and close the distance between me and Austin. He's so close I can feel the heat from his body, just like this morning, and I grab his collar and lower his head.

"Why? Are you jealous?" I ask, dropping my voice to a whisper as his chest heaves breathlessly.

"N—no," he lies, and scoffs at me.

I intentionally brush my hand over the bulge in his shorts, shrug and walk back to my bed.

"Okay. I mean, why would you be, right? I'm not even your type after all," I say, more as a question than a statement.

He furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head.

"Look, I'm just here so you suck my dick. Don't make this complicated," he says, leaning against the wall. His eyes rake over me, and again, my skin heats up uncomfortably.

"No," I say as a joke.

I'm not stupid. Sure, Michael B Jordan from the beach is a possibility, but I'm not going to give up what I have right in front of me for something that might as well be a shot in the dark. What are the chances he's going to text me back? What if all he really wanted was just the soda and he decided he did not want my pick me body?

"No?" Austin repeats like a parrot.  I nod in confirmation, shrug a shoulder and keep texting on my phone.

"Is that him? Is he the one you're texting right now? Is he the reason you can't pay attention to me for two seconds?" he snarls, but it's not anger.

It is most definitely jealousy, and it makes this all the more enjoyable. I don't know why I'm excited that my cousin could potentially want me, but I am.

"Maybe," I reply nonchalantly.

It's not him. It's Val, but the tortured look on his face is priceless. I clear my throat and hide my lips behind my palm to cover a giggle. Seeing Austin hot and flustered over me and not the other way around for a change is really hilarious.

He drags a hand through his hair and sighs. "Look, do you want to suck my dick or not?" he asks, walks over and sits down on my bed.

An idea forms in my head as I turn off my phone, straddle him, and slowly grind my ass over his cock. It's risky-Jake could walk in on us, but I want to do it anyway.

His breathing quickens as I take his lower lip in my mouth and suck on it, his cock now fully hard under me.

"Tell me first, am I your type?" I ask, bringing his hands around my waist, and he moves me over his cock.

"Danny—"

"Am I your type, Austin?" I ask again, and roll my hips faster. His breaths shudder, and I know not to let him come just yet. God, this is going to be so fucking embarrassing if he says no.

He doesn't answer, but I'm not going to let it go. Call it needing his validation or whatever...I don't care. I need to hear him say it.

My hands slide under his shirt and I play with his nipples, run them over his abs, and rake my fingers across his back. He closes his eyes and licks his lips.

"Don't stop, Danny," he moans.

My phone is blowing up with text messages, but I cannot stop. I need him to say it, even if I have to force it out of him. I crash my lips against his, and stick my hand in the waistband of his shorts. His cock pulses as I wrap my fingers around it, and he inhales sharply.

"Am I your type, Austin?" I ask again as we pull apart to catch our breath, and he nods his head.

"Say it," I tell him, and start to stroke.

"Yes, fuck yes, Danny. You're my fucking type," he rasps and I smile.

I stop and get off of his thighs. His eyes fly open as I unlock my phone, lean back against the headboard and text my best friend back.

"Are you kidding me? Are you fucking serious? Are you seriously fucking serious?" he asks with frustration, and I stare at him like he's speaking gibberish.

"I'm going to get blue balls, Danny. Get back here," he orders and I just laugh.

"Next time, think about blue balls before you say I'm not your type again. Now, I'm busy, so please close the door on your way out," I tell him, my heart racing with excitement when I see the look of pure rage on his face.

He stands up and chuckles angrily, his cock threatening to rip right through his shorts.

"This is so not over," he threatens, walks out and slams the door. I know he is going to come back.

But I don't really care if he doesn't anymore, because when I look back down at my phone, there's a new message from an unknown number.

Fuck yes! Let the summer fucking begin.