I trod water in the deep end of the pool, enjoying the sight of Hayley as she made her way across the decking, her tits almost bouncing out of the top of her tankini.
I’d give anything to cup them and suck them and fucking bite them.
Whoa, mate. Not gonna happen. She’s not the kinda girl who’d be up for a one-night stand and you’re not the kinda bloke who’d offer more than that…
My dick had stiffened and I dove down into the depths, where I quickly adjusted myself. A ripple in the water, and I opened my eyes. A pint-sized body was swimming toward me, but the chlorine had started stinging, so I shot upward to resurface and shake the droplets from my long hair. Usually tied back except when I was on stage, it hung annoyingly heavy and wet down the sides of my face.
Yankee Girl popped up like a cork from a bottle. She swam to the shallow end and I joined her. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Like I’ve been run over by a steamroller, to be honest. And the fucking meds have turned me into a zombie.”
I made a face at her like I was one of the walking dead, and she laughed. “You gotta let things take their course. The nurse explained that we need to reduce the pills slowly until you can manage without.”
“Thought I was gonna die on the plane home.” I grimaced. “I’ve never experienced pain like that. I hope I never have to again.”
She shot me a concerned look. “You’re doing great. Let’s just take this one day at a time.”
“Can’t wait to get back to normal,” I huffed.
Except, what would my new normal be? Sober and clean would be a whole new ball game and I didn’t know if I could hack it.
“Axel and Phoenix are looking forward to hanging out with you, now you’re so much better.” Hayley’s mouth curved into a warm smile.
I stuck out my bottom lip. “Yeah. Whatever.”
Having mates ’round without enjoying booze was about as appealing as an audience with the Pope.
Golden sparks flashed in Yankee Girl’s amber irises. “They care about you.”
“I know,” I said, but still I wallowed in self-pity. “It will be like partying during prohibition.”
“You don’t need alcohol to have a good time,” she responded.
“Wine, women and song, the adage goes,” I shrugged. “At least I can still fuck and make music.”
Her heart-shaped face flushed. “Don’t you have any hobbies or play any sports?”
“I’m a musician. Playing music and rehearsing is my life. I exercise in the gym. Never had time for anything else.” I paused, shot her a look. “How about you?”