Tryst by Cambria Hebert

it. He sure knew how to act like a jerk, but it was clear he knew how to not act like one too.
    “So,” I said after a couple minutes of silence. “What do you do?”
    “Surf.”
    “Oh. Are you a pro?”
    “Nope.”
    “Do you live here alone?”
    “Yep.” He moved off the coffee table and went into the kitchen. I heard some cupboards opening and closing , and a few seconds later, he came back shoving a little white cake in his mouth. A rectangular white box was tucked under his arm and he carried a clear wrapper with another identical cake inside.
    He sat down and shoved the other one in his mouth. Whole.
    “Snack cake?” he said, offering me the box as he propped his bare feet on the table.
    “No , thanks.”
    He shrugged and pulled out another package and proceeded to make short work of it as well.
    I took his obvious preoccupation with Little Debbie to study my surroundings. Now that my arm wasn’t hurting as badly, I could concentrate on his house.
    It was minimalistic and simple. The living room and dining room were one open space. It consisted of a tan couch, two club chairs , and a coffee table in the center.
    Adjacent from the couch was a large flat -screen hanging on the wall with a small narrow table beneath it. The top of the table had what I assumed were empty boxes of snack cakes.
    The coffee table also boasted a few empty boxes of the junk.
    I thought he might have a problem.
    “So what’s your favorite snack cake?” I asked.
    “I don’t discriminate,” he said, lowering the box and picking up his coffee.
    “Do you eat anything besides snack cakes?” I wondered out loud.
    “Of course.”
    He was a man of few words. It seemed the only conversation he knew how to have was an argument.
    After a few more silent moments, I sat up. “I should go. I know you probably have things to do.” I really didn’t think he had anything to do, but I didn’t know what else to say.
    He stood swiftly and sat down in front of me again. Our bare knees brushed together and a jolt of electricity moved through him and into me. I gasped a little in surprise.
    He didn’t acknowledge what I knew he felt. Gavin discarded the cloth and patted the area dry with another towel. “How’s it feel?”
    “Better,” I stuttered. The steady rise and fall of his shoulders while he breathed was hypnotizing. And the way he smelled made me want to lean closer. He smelled like the beach —you know, that kind of oil that you use to help you tan? Like coconuts and sunshine.
    I watched as Gavin uncapped a tube of hydrocortisone and squeezed some out on his fingers. He laid my arm across his lap, my hand falling just beside his hip.
    Dear God, I was inches from his cock.
    He took his time rubbing the little bit of cream over the injury. Moisture gathered in my bathing suit bottom and my breasts began to ache with desire.
    “Why are you here, Talie?” he asked, no longer rubbing the medicine in, but not releasing my arm.
    “Because a jellyfish stung me?”
    The side of his lip tilted, and I wanted so badly to lean over and kiss the corner of his mouth. “I meant here, on the island.”
    “Oh. Right.”
    He began to draw lazy circles over the inside of my elbow with his fingers. He didn’t play fair. How was I supposed to keep up with a conversation when he did things like that?
    And why did he affect me this way?
    He was maddening, bossy, and he lived off snack cakes for goodness sake.
    “Talie?” he said, my name ripping from deep within his throat.
    “Oh, um… Vacation.”
    “Who takes a vacation alone?”
    “Who lives in a beach house alone?” I answered.
    “I like my privacy. I’m not a social guy.”
    “Then why did you bring me here?”
    “I don’t know,” he said, sounding absolutely mystified.
    “I’ll go,” I declared.
    He nodded.
    Neither of us moved. He didn’t release my arm.
    It was as if we were both paralyzed in a bubble of attraction. The pull between us was so unlike anything I’d ever