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” Coach Bridge’s words echoed in his head and he thought of Graham’s mom. Big island milf.
Strong.
Determined.
Smart.
Hot.
The time he’d seen her tumble from her bike when a truck buzzed too close.
But she got back up.
Didn’t look around to check who’d seen.
Didn’t even brush herself off.
Just got back on, blood trickling from her skinned knee, and flew.
You gotta be great.

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Blake glared at Hailey’s car.
At Adam’s parents’ house behind it.
Felt his upper lip sneer. Mature chubby old sluts.
“Fuck this.
Fuck both of you.
” Tossing his cell on the empty passenger’s seat, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands and pressed the gas.
Careened past well manicured lawns and curvy roads until popping out on the main avenue.
Headed south until everything with a concrete foundation fell into the ether behind his truck.

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Small palms, perched on high sand dunes, lined the road. Rough twink sex.
He turned into a lot, slammed the car into park.
Tensing, straining his muscles until he felt his lips curl at his gums, he pushed the fire bursting within him into the pit of his stomach.
Emitted a guttural growl and threw open the truck door.
Leapt out, slammed it behind him.
Be great.

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Like Graham.
Like his mom.
Bad ass.
Fierce.
His legs were moving before he willed it. Horney girls county east baldwin maine me.
Up the lot’s driveway.
Onto the asphalt and across.
He blazed through the palm blades and marram grass shredding his calves.
Labored up the resisting sand dunes until the lukewarm wind took hold.
He bolted into a run when he saw the ocean.

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Pushed through footfalls in the beach under the overcast sky.
The fire pit of anger exploded in his guts, flames following livewire synapses to the brink of his body. Chip and dale xxx.
Wet sand burst under his sneakers, splatted his calves.
The smell of salt water bit into his nostrils as his lungs begged for more air.
Blake flew until his fury petered into smoke, his quads and calves burning.

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Mind blank, he slowed and turned around.
Propelled forward again, fatigue weighting his bones.
The beach was hazy, visibility swallowed by the storm creeping in from the crashing ocean.
But he saw her.
Neon yellow sports bra.
Skin swathed in ink.
She switched direction just as he did, but there was no hiding the tats on her tanned legs.
The feminine curves of her muscles.

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Her thick black hair, pulled into a high ponytail.
She jetted faster.
He increased his pace, feeling his skin jerk with each impact, time and distance a blur until an off-white patch peeked through the knee-high, wispy grass feathering the dunes.

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