it in a line just above the rim of the model’s Speedo. He didn’t make a move to stop her. Instead, he watched her work, raising a sultry corner of his lips as he loaded the lime into his mouth.
The whistle blew, and Maria pushed the band of his suit down half an inch. She bent and slowly licked the salt from his rock-hard, bronzed abs. Jen’s mouth hung open as she watched.
Chris lamented, “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Jen was pretty sure the bold and beautiful Maria was the only girl in all of Florida who could’ve gotten away with such a move. Maria took the margarita mix, cup and all, and threw it over her shoulder. Then she stood on tip-toes, and the guy bent down and grabbed her in his arms, pulling her up. Their mouths opened wide in a long, obscene kiss that Jen felt guilty just watching. Nobody ever found out exactly what became of the lime.
The guy finally set Maria down and said something to the whistle boy. He stepped away with Maria as the remaining girls in line groaned their disappointment. Maria came skipping over a few minutes later and looked back at the guy. He held up his open palm, which appeared to have a phone number scrawled on it.
Jen felt a pang for Tom and wondered how Maria could be so carefree about cheating on him. She didn’t want to make herself the target of another “precious” comment, so she simply smiled at Maria and tried to push the incident from her mind. She was successful at playing it cool until they returned to the Oyster hours later. Maria hopped onto her bed and pulled her phone from the nightstand drawer, all the while chattering about what a major hottie the guy was and wondering aloud how long it would take him to call.
“What about Tom?” Jen blurted, unable to stop herself. Something inside her burned.
Maria’s head snapped toward Jen. Her happy expression turned to one of defiance. “What about him?”
Jen tried to hold her own against Maria’s stony stare—Tom had become Jen’s friend, too, and she knew how bad it felt to be used, so she had a right to stand up for him—but her glares were no match for Maria’s. “Fine. Whatever happens during spring break doesn’t count,” she grumbled, repeating the phrase Celia had coined during the long drive down.
Chris came up behind Jen and wrapped an approving arm around her shoulders. “That a girl! You’re learning.”
Jen rolled her eyes and left the room to sit by the pool. She’d rather not learn some of the things she was learning on this trip.
The margarita model showed up at the pool party that night. Jen ignored him while she danced and swam with college kids from around the country. She also tried to ignore the door to her room, which remained locked for a good portion of the party while Maria and Mr. Margarita were nowhere in sight. It became more difficult to ignore him when he came around every day for the rest of the week.
Maria was her usual bubbly, social self, but she also became physically connected to her spring break boyfriend at all moments—her arms around his tight waist, his hand cupping her shoulder, rubbing her back, grabbing her ass. Although no more words on the subject had been exchanged between Jen and Maria, Jen felt distant from her friend for the rest of the trip. Part of it was because she felt bad for Tom, but she was also surprised and hurt by Maria’s cold glare the day she’d met Mr. Margarita. Jen considered Maria to be her very best friend at CIU and couldn’t believe she’d turn on her so quickly over some guy she’d just met.
***
On their last full day in Daytona, the inevitable wet T-shirt contest broke out at their hotel pool. The CIU crew watched from a balcony off the second-floor room of some guys from Tennessee. They drank red drinks served from a large plastic bucket while they cheered and jeered at the girls displaying their thinly veiled wares from the edge of the diving board. Jen and the other girls had been warned all week that
The whistle blew, and Maria pushed the band of his suit down half an inch. She bent and slowly licked the salt from his rock-hard, bronzed abs. Jen’s mouth hung open as she watched.
Chris lamented, “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Jen was pretty sure the bold and beautiful Maria was the only girl in all of Florida who could’ve gotten away with such a move. Maria took the margarita mix, cup and all, and threw it over her shoulder. Then she stood on tip-toes, and the guy bent down and grabbed her in his arms, pulling her up. Their mouths opened wide in a long, obscene kiss that Jen felt guilty just watching. Nobody ever found out exactly what became of the lime.
The guy finally set Maria down and said something to the whistle boy. He stepped away with Maria as the remaining girls in line groaned their disappointment. Maria came skipping over a few minutes later and looked back at the guy. He held up his open palm, which appeared to have a phone number scrawled on it.
Jen felt a pang for Tom and wondered how Maria could be so carefree about cheating on him. She didn’t want to make herself the target of another “precious” comment, so she simply smiled at Maria and tried to push the incident from her mind. She was successful at playing it cool until they returned to the Oyster hours later. Maria hopped onto her bed and pulled her phone from the nightstand drawer, all the while chattering about what a major hottie the guy was and wondering aloud how long it would take him to call.
“What about Tom?” Jen blurted, unable to stop herself. Something inside her burned.
Maria’s head snapped toward Jen. Her happy expression turned to one of defiance. “What about him?”
Jen tried to hold her own against Maria’s stony stare—Tom had become Jen’s friend, too, and she knew how bad it felt to be used, so she had a right to stand up for him—but her glares were no match for Maria’s. “Fine. Whatever happens during spring break doesn’t count,” she grumbled, repeating the phrase Celia had coined during the long drive down.
Chris came up behind Jen and wrapped an approving arm around her shoulders. “That a girl! You’re learning.”
Jen rolled her eyes and left the room to sit by the pool. She’d rather not learn some of the things she was learning on this trip.
The margarita model showed up at the pool party that night. Jen ignored him while she danced and swam with college kids from around the country. She also tried to ignore the door to her room, which remained locked for a good portion of the party while Maria and Mr. Margarita were nowhere in sight. It became more difficult to ignore him when he came around every day for the rest of the week.
Maria was her usual bubbly, social self, but she also became physically connected to her spring break boyfriend at all moments—her arms around his tight waist, his hand cupping her shoulder, rubbing her back, grabbing her ass. Although no more words on the subject had been exchanged between Jen and Maria, Jen felt distant from her friend for the rest of the trip. Part of it was because she felt bad for Tom, but she was also surprised and hurt by Maria’s cold glare the day she’d met Mr. Margarita. Jen considered Maria to be her very best friend at CIU and couldn’t believe she’d turn on her so quickly over some guy she’d just met.
***
On their last full day in Daytona, the inevitable wet T-shirt contest broke out at their hotel pool. The CIU crew watched from a balcony off the second-floor room of some guys from Tennessee. They drank red drinks served from a large plastic bucket while they cheered and jeered at the girls displaying their thinly veiled wares from the edge of the diving board. Jen and the other girls had been warned all week that
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