Bad Girl Reputation (Avalon Bay #2)(43)

“No,” he says, grinning like he’s never seen a pair of fake tits before. “I’m fine.”

“Good. What’ll you have?”

Riley grabs his menu again and rushes to scan it front and back, realizing he hadn’t actually read it.

“What’s fresh?” I ask Rox.

“Grouper’s good. I’d get it Cajun style.”

I glance at Riley. “You like grouper?” It occurs to me he might feel weird about what he should order when some dude he only met today is paying. I would.

“Sure,” he says, looking almost relieved.

“Cool. We’ll do that.”

When she’s done taking our order, Riley takes a second to admire her retreating backside before leaning in toward me. “You know her?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Hey, Evan.” Another waitress saunters by. Cass, a short, cute blonde in a tank top she took a pair of scissors to, waves as she passes our table.

“You know a lot of girls here,” Riley remarks.

I swallow a laugh at how much he sounds like Mackenzie in that moment. Every time we walk into a place and a girl gives me a nod, Mac rolls her eyes. Like we didn’t meet because she was out helping her roommate hunt me down for a one-night stand.

“It’s a small town.”

“So you’ve, like, slept with all of them?”

Well, that’s more forward than I thought he was capable of. “To some extent or another, yeah, sure.”

I realize then his eyes aren’t wandering because he’s avoiding eye contact with me. As I track his attention around the room, it’s clear he’s checking out all the teenage tourists, the bored girls perusing their phones while their families sit around tables scarfing down nachos and inhaling two-dollar margaritas. Suddenly, I’m just hoping this kid doesn’t ask me to buy him condoms. Not that I wouldn’t, but I don’t need to get kicked out of another volunteer program because he goes home to tell his aunt I’m trying to get him laid.

“What about you?” I counter. “Got a girlfriend or anything?”

He shakes his head. “Girls think I’m weird. I don’t know how to talk to them.”

“You’re not weird,” I assure him. Yes, he’s shy, but he doesn’t give off any creep vibes. The kid just needs someone to build up his confidence. “Girls can be complicated. You just need to know the signs.”

“Signs?”

“When a girl likes you. When she wants you to come talk to her.”

“Like what?”

“Well, for one.” I scan the room and locate a hot redhead in her early twenties. She’s sitting with her girlfriends around a fishbowl of blue liquor with four straws. “When you catch each other’s attention and she smiles at you—that means she thinks you’re cute.”

Riley follows my gaze, his eyes glazing over slightly.

It takes less than two seconds for the redhead to notice me. A mischievous smile curves her full lips. I offer a faint half smile in return.

“Then what?” Riley sounds almost eager now.

“You go introduce yourself. Get her number.”

“But how?” he insists, mindlessly popping hush puppies in his mouth. “What do you say to them?”

Me, personally? Not much, really. But I can’t tell him to buy her a drink or ask if she wants a ride on his motorcycle. Once I had a driver’s license, all I had to do was ask a chick if her parents were home. But that’s neither here nor there. Riley is the sensitive type, I’d guess. He needs a different approach.

“Okay,” I tell him. “So, if she’s alone—you never want to approach a girl standing with her family; dads are a surefire cockblock—but if she’s alone, you go up and say hi.”

“Hi? That’s it? But what do I say after that?”

“Ask her …” I mull it over. I don’t want the kid to sound like a tool. If I send him out there to get his heart broken, I’m not a very good Big Brother. “Okay, do this. You see a girl you like, she smiles at you. You say hi, introduce yourself, then say something like, what do you like to do at the beach. Then what’s her favorite day. Her favorite time of day. And once you get those answers, you take out your phone and tell her you’ve set a reminder for that day and time to pick her up for a beach date.”

Riley studies me with a skeptical grimace. “That seems kinda corny.”

“Wow. Okay. Getting heckled by a fourteen-year-old.”

He snorts a laugh.

“Look. Chicks like a guy with confidence. They want you to take charge of the situation. Show some game.”

He shakes his head, stabbing his straw into his glass of water. “I don’t think I can do that.”

I ponder some more. How hard can it be to pick up a teenage girl these days? “Right, how ’bout this. You see a girl you like?”

Riley is hesitant, glancing around the restaurant. Beyond the bar, the place is stuffed with the lunch rush. Eventually, his gaze lands on a brunette sitting with her family; she looks to be the youngest of two older sisters. As the girls chat among themselves, the mom grabs her purse from the back of her chair and heads off toward the restrooms.

“Quick, before her mom comes back. You go over there and say to her sisters, ‘Hey, I’m Riley, and I’m not very good at this but I’d really like to ask your sister out on a date, and I was hoping you could help me.’ ”