Afterward, we walked down the pier and he tried to hold my hand."I'm married. remember? This is just friends." I said.He quickly came back with "Well,...friends can hold hands. Whatever though. I don't want to come between you and your husband. I'm fine being your side game." Side game? Wait. You're not my side game. You're my friend." A friend your husband doesn't know about." Not true. He knows about you." Oh, so he knows we're hanging out today?" Well, no. But I've told him about you." Why. He put my hands above my head, spread apart, and taking one calve, spread my legs apart a bit so I was in a “book ‘em” position. This made me a little nervous as I could not see how I was supposed to relax standing up, but then, having never had a massage, I didn’t question it, figuring I would sound silly.I began to relax as I felt the warm oil dripping down the backs of my thighs, realizing he was just going to massage me and I had nothing to worry about. I felt his hands begin to rub the oil. Stacy tucked her long legs beneath her butt and combed out her hair while we pretended not to look at her.Josh was at that age where every girl seemed more beautiful than the next. I'd heard him talking with his friends plenty of times, whispering and giggling as they compared their juvenile fantasies. Once in awhile they'd talk about me, but not because I was special or anything. Sometimes his friends would try to talk to me. Not at school, but when Josh invited them over, and they never quite. She was cute. There was no real sexual attraction between us other than the obvious male/female teenager kind of thing. If we were the last two people left on earth, I was pretty sure we’d try to procreate. Probably if we were in the last million or so. She was barely over five feet tall—even shorter than Melody, though plumper. Like most of my classmates, her clothes were black. Hell, so were mine. How pretentious could artists be? There isn’t a mark on the scale for that. I was seriously.