Sharing The Backpacking Boys (First Time MMF Standalone Stories #4)

One - Sage

“When did you get here?” The accent was unmistakably American, the first I’d heard in weeks.

“Honestly, I’ve lost track of time. Maybe a couple of weeks or so?” I shrugged and watched the fire crackle and dance in front of me.

“Having such a good time that you’ve lost track of it is exactly why I’m here. You?” His smile was wide and infectious.

I took the cheap bottle of wine that was being passed around and slugged it back. “Getting as much distance between me and my asshole ex!”

My sentiment was met with a few approving whoops from the rest of the group.

I blushed a little, not realizing how loud I made my declaration.

It was cool, though. There were fewer than ten of us gathered around the campfire, and nearly everyone was in various states of intoxication, inebriation, or just outright high.

I wasn’t lying. After the monumental fuck up that my relationship had ended in, I took a moment and decided to do something I’d always talked about—backpacking around Europe.

The idea always sounded so romantic, so exciting, and charming, and now I had nothing holding me back.

No ties to a property, thanks to having to move back in with my parents.

No boyfriend, wondering what I was up to. Nothing.

I put in my notice a week later and booked the first flight I could find. Malaga. It was on the coast, and it looked beyond perfect. As soon as I arrived, I wondered why I hadn’t done it sooner. Everything up to this point has been amazing, far exceeding my expectations.

I’d arrived at the airport more than a little nervous. I was in a foreign land, and I spoke only the most basic Spanish. It was enough to get me to my hostel, though. That boosted my spirits. Then, I met some fellow travelers. And things had only gotten better from then on.

They’d invited me on treks out, to meals at various cafes, and even to watch the sunrise over the beach. And now, surrounded by these once strangers, I was having a ball.

Someone was playing guitar. A few others were singing along joyfully, their faces highlighted by the dying fire. A couple was making out, although I’m pretty sure they’d only just met. They were all so free, passionate, and fun. These were my people. My tribe.

The American I was chatting to had only joined us today, his plane landing earlier today.

When he’d went to check into the hostel, someone from our group had dragged him and his friend along.

I was kind of glad they had. Not for the company of someone from my home country, but because they were both hot.

The chattier one, Jack, was blonde, tanned, and rugged. The barely shaved, fell out of bed surfer look that made my panties damp and my reason abandon me for terrible decisions.

The darker, quieter one was the stereotypical brooding type.

Dark eyes that peeked out from behind his long black hair.

I had yet to learn his name, but I couldn’t stop stealing glances at his hairy, muscular torso when his shirt opened just a little too far.

He mostly kept himself to himself, preferring to let Jack do the talking, but there was something about him I liked.

I wanted to get to know him better, in more ways than simply talking.

“So, you’re nursing a broken heart? So is this one.” Jack thumbed toward his friend.

“Really? Does this one have a name?” I pursed my lips, waiting for Jack to answer, eager to learn more about the mysterious guy with dark eyes and a brooding aura.

“Flint. And I’m not nursing a broken heart. I’m just….” He looked around. First to me, then to his friend, then everyone else who might be listening to our conversation.

“He’s nursing a broken heart.” Jack interrupted, earning a punch on the arm.

“To broken hearts.” I handed him the bottle. He took it with a slight nod and a smile.

For the brief second our fingers touched, there were sparks.

It may have simply been my imagination, but there was something there between us.

And, if not, I could tell Jack was interested.

Unlike Flint, who had been enough of a gentleman to mask his ogling at my bare legs and lack of a bra, Jack was openly gawping at me.

For some reason, I didn’t mind it. If anything, I kind of liked it, even if I wouldn’t admit to him. Not yet, anyway.

“And what’s your story? No broken heart?” I watched Flint pass the bottle to Jack. He took a huge swig and smiled broadly.

“No broken heart. Just here for the adventure and to help Flint with his.” His comment earned another shake of the head from Flint.

“Help him how? Be his new traveling partner… and more?” I couldn’t resist a chuckle at questioning their dynamic. I was not ready for Jack’s answer, though.

“Oh, I wish.” His laughter joined mine, but I couldn’t help but notice there was more than a mere kernel of truth in his words.

Was Jack carrying a torch for his friend? I wasn’t sure, but that was something I definitely wanted to watch if it happened.

The thought of seeing these two hot guys go at it right in front of me turned me on so much it was like a kick directly to my libido.

I felt my nipples tent against the cotton of my vest. My panties were suddenly a lot wetter, and heat was pooling in my core.

Was it the wine? Was it the carefree fun we’d all been having? The idea of watching two hot guys discover each other’s bodies always had a top spot on my go-to fantasy list, but it had never had a definite ‘cast of characters.’ With Flint and Jack, I may have just found my stars.

And if those stars didn’t mind including me in some of their fun, then the more the merrier.

I took a deep breath and watched the sparks fly from the fire, mirrored in Jack’s eyes as he looked at his friend, and the agenda for my holiday changed just like that.

I had an idea that would help Jack get what he wanted and help Flint and me forget all about our exes.