by Roxy Queen
He’s the eighteen-year-old lifeguard at the pool.
I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman babysitting for the summer, before going to grad school.
He’s one step away from jailbait (his birthday was eight days ago. Yes, I checked).
I’m not necessarily a cougar yet, but closer to cougar than high school girl.
He’s hot, and by hot, I mean holy crap. And by holy crap, I mean, when I first saw him, I thought he was twenty-one. Minimum.
But he’s not twenty-one. He’s eighteen and off limits. But he has this back and these shoulders and everything about him is yummy and I just want to touch him.
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