Settling the Score (The Summer Games #1)(90)

“Probably time to slip on that sarong,” I winked, picking up my coconut water.

He ignored my teasing. “Should we swim for a bit after this?”

I shrugged. “It’d be a shame not to go into the ocean at least once while we’re here.”

He hummed in agreement.

“I’m not sure you could handle it though…”

I laughed. “Handle what?”

“Seeing me in that bikini.”





ANYWHERE ELSE IN the world, wearing the bikini Freddie had picked out would have been 100% off the table, but in Rio, most of the women clearly subscribed to the “less is more” mentality. Like way, way less. Just walking along the avenida that evening, I’d seen enough butt cheeks to last me a lifetime. Freddie, to his credit, didn’t make a fuss about it, but he didn’t need to. “LOOK AT THAT BUTT!” I’d whisper excitedly every time one came into view, and these weren’t your mom’s butt cheeks. If I didn’t know better, I’d have assumed Brazil was manufacturing Kim Kardashian clones.

“You okay in there, Andie?” Freddie asked from the other side of the door.

He was waiting outside the restaurant’s bathroom while I changed into the bikini.

“Fine!” I shouted, trying to angle myself in the mirror so I could see all the parts of my skin the bikini wasn’t covering. The top was hopeless. The blue triangles covered me as much as they could, but my boobs were just…everywhere. Side boob, middle boob, top boob. All of the boobs. And if that didn’t seem bad enough, the real issue remained with the bottoms.

“How’s it coming?”

I shifted to get a better look in the mirror. “I have no clue. I put it on, but then it disappeared.”

He laughed. “I’m sure it’s not so bad.”

He was very, very wrong. I practiced most days in my soccer shorts and sports bra, so about six inches above my knee, my skin turned from tan to PALE. SO PALE. My butt cheeks practically glowed in the dark. Beneath the blue triangles of my bikini top, you could make out a perfect silhouette of where my sports bra usually rested.

Whatever sex appeal the bikini offered was counterbalanced by the fact that I looked like I’d been dip-dyed in tan paint.

I opened the door of the bathroom and peeked my head around to find Freddie leaning against the adjacent wall with his arms crossed. He’d taken off his shirt so I could see the full extent of his Olympic workouts. He was tall and built, with broad, tan shoulders. His chest was toned in a way that made me shiver and I made my eyes stay three inches above his six-pack. Once I looked, there really was no going back.

He heard the door open and glanced over with a curious gaze. With my head the only thing visible, I gave him a warning.

“What you’re about to see is objectively funny, but if you laugh, I will never speak to you again.”

He smiled wryly. “You have to give me a bit of an explanation. I’m not that good at keeping a straight face.”

I sighed and let the bathroom door swing open. His eyes widened as he swept down my body, and to my surprise, he didn’t laugh. Not once.

“Were you nervous about the tan lines?” he asked as he led me down to the beach with my hand in his.

“It’s pretty funny, you have to admit.”

“It’s really not bad. You should see my bum.”

I smiled and shook my head. “I have.”

By the time we made it out onto the sand, the sun had nearly set, but the beach was still crowded. We passed hundreds of colorful umbrellas on our way to the water, but no one paid us much attention. With less clothes on, we blended in with the tan, scantily clad masses.

Freddie decided to swim in his boxer briefs and I pretended to be intrigued by a seagull pecking away at some chips while he dropped his shorts. I told myself my heart was racing because the seagull was really going to town on the chips, but when Freddie reached out to lead me into the ocean, I had a dangerous thought. What happens to us after tonight? I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t know how to secure it before I left.

So while we slipped into the water and waves lapped up against us, I thought of questions that would give me the answers I was seeking.

“Have you had many girlfriends, Freddie?”

“A few over the years. No one too memorable.”

A giant wave was headed for us and he dove in head first, slipping beneath the wave as I floated over it. When he came back up, he whipped his wet hair out of his face and flashed me a wide smile.

“What about Americans? Have you ever dated one of them?”

He laughed. “Andie, is this a quiz?”

By then, he was practically supporting my full weight while he continued to tread water. Our legs were getting tangled beneath the surface and every now and then my hip would brush his. I couldn’t pay attention to the sensuality of the moment though; I needed him to answer my question.

“I’m just wondering,” I said, glancing to the horizon over his shoulder. “We haven’t talked about it really.”

He nodded. “You’re the first American girl I’ve ever fancied.”

FANCIED.

“And what exactly does it mean to fancy someone?”

He tightened his hold around my waist so that our stomachs were flush. He was nothing but warm, hard lines against my body. “So Becca didn’t tell you then? I figured she would have.”