Over the past year, I’ve been called a lot of things. Slacker. Troublemaker. Party animal.
I thought I was on top of the world. Turns out, I was pretty close to rock bottom.
Now I have a new title: college dropout.
Talk about a reality check.
But I’ve got a chance to redeem myself. One summer to turn things around. Two months to prove I’m not a complete f*ck-up.
It’s time to change.
I want to get back to being one of the good guys.
I have everything I need to live out my dream of being a reclusive songwriter—my guitar, my notebook, and blissful silence.
At least, I did until Jimmy moved in next door.
With tattoos, piercings, and mischievous green eyes, he’s got bad news written all over him. And last time I got with a bad boy, it ended horribly.
Jimmy makes me feel things I shouldn’t feel. Want things I shouldn’t want. He’s a hazard to my carefully laid plans.
But he’s only here for two months.
I can resist him...right?
Turning the corner, I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight in front of me.
It wasn’t Beverly. Or Ernie.
And I most definitely wasn’t good.
A guy wearing nothing but camo-print underwear and a peach-colored apron stood in front of the stove. He was facing away from me, and I caught sight of a large tattoo—angel wings—across the expanse of his muscular back.
Surprised, I let out a high-pitched squeak. The sound got the stranger’s attention and he started to pivot in my direction.
My eyes fell to his sculpted ass, the muscles flexing as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He wore briefs. Not boxers or boxer-briefs—actual tighties. No guy should look good in those, but damn, he did.
His black hair was shorter on the sides and longer on top. Some of the inky strands fell over his forehead, falling to just above his bright green eyes.
His lips were parted in surprise, and something flipped in my stomach at the sight of his mouth. The bottom lip was twice the size of the top. Plump. Pouty.
Dark tattoos painted his chest and he had colorful flowers down the length of his left arm. And…
Is that a nipple piercing?
Because of the apron, I couldn’t see his abs, but my guess was that he had a solid six-pack under there.
I opened my mouth to say something—anything.
I wanted to ask him what he was doing in Beverly’s house. Or apologize for walking in on him while he was naked.
Instead, my social awkwardness presented itself full-force with the words that tumbled out of my mouth next.
“If you tried to hide in the woods, at least no one would be able to see your ass.”
His emerald eyes widened. “What?”
Figuring he probably didn’t hear me the first time because of the loud music, I raised my voice. “Camouflage underwear. Your butt would totally blend in with the bushes.”
Looking like he was caught between laughing and being outraged, he opened his mouth to respond.
Then all hell broke loose.