Chapter 142
**Sara**
I watched the city blur past the window, trying to ignore how Tom's fingers drummed on the steering wheel. God, those fingers. I remembered how they'd felt trailing down my spine, and suddenly, the car felt way too hot.
"So," Tom's voice broke through my less-than-pure thoughts. "You got any plans for the rest of the day?"
I turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Why? You offering to pencil me in?"
He chuckled, his eyes flicking to me briefly before returning to the road. "Maybe. Depends on how your schedule looks."
"Oh, you know me. I'm a very busy woman. I've got a full day of staring at my ceiling and overthinking every decision I've ever made."
"Sounds riveting. But what if I had a better offer?"
I leaned in, curiosity piqued. "I'm listening. But fair warning, it better involve less clothing if you want to compete with my ceiling-staring plans."
Tom's ears turned pink, and I felt a little thrill of victory. Score one for Sara.
He cleared his throat. "Well, I was thinking... how about we hit the beach?"
"The beach? Seriously?"
"Why not?" He shrugged, navigating a turn. "It's a beautiful day. We're both free... unless you'd rather stick to your thrilling ceiling plans."
"Hmm, tough choice. Sand in uncomfortable places versus existential dread... You drive a hard bargain."
"Come on, Sara. Live a little. I promise it'll be more fun than your ceiling."
"Oh yeah? And how do you plan to make it more fun?" I purred, my voice low and sultry. "Got any... specific activities in mind?"
Tom's eyes widened, and I swear I saw Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. "I, uh... I haven't planned anything specific," he admitted, his voice husky.
"The great Professor Tom, caught off guard? I'm shocked."
"Alright, smartass. You in or not?"
"I could be persuaded to trade in my thrilling ceiling plans for a day at the beach with a hot billionaire professor. But only if you promise to buy me an ice cream."
"Deal," he chuckled, taking the next exit towards the coast.
As we drove, I couldn't help but sneak glances at Tom. The way the sunlight played across his face, highlighting those chiseled cheekbones... It wasn't fair for someone to look that good.
"You know," I said, breaking the comfortable silence, "I didn't exactly pack for a beach day. I'm not exactly swimsuit-ready under this outfit."
His eyes darted to me, then quickly back to the road. "I'm sure we can find a shop nearby if you want to pick something up."
"Ooh, trying to get me into a skimpy bikini? How scandalous," I teased.
He smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Well, if you're daring, we could skip the bikini altogether. How about naked?"
"Excuse me? Are you suggesting we go to a public beach in our birthday suits? I don't think so, mister. Let's stick with the bikini, shall we? I'd rather not get arrested for public indecency, thank you very much."
He laughed. "Can't blame a guy for trying. Bikini it is, then."
We pulled into a parking lot of a beachside store. As we walked in, the bell above the door jingled cheerfully.
"Alright," he said, grabbing a basket. "Let's get you suited up."
I wandered over to the swimwear section, fingering through the racks of brightly colored fabric. "You know, I'm starting to think this was your plan. Get me into a tiny bikini under the guise of a spontaneous beach trip."
"You caught me," he deadpanned. "I've been plotting this for weeks. It's all part of my master plan to see you half-naked."
I rolled my eyes, pulling out a modest black one-piece. "Well, prepare to be disappointed. How about this one?"
"Seriously? That looks like something my grandmother would wear."
"Hey!" I swatted his arm. "Don't knock it. It's classic."
"It's boring," he countered, reaching past me to grab a skimpy red bikini. "Now this... this is more like it."
I eyed the tiny scraps of fabric dubiously. "That's not a swimsuit; that's dental floss with delusions of grandeur."
He waggled his eyebrows. "But think of the tan lines."
"Think of the sunburn," I shot back, but I couldn't help laughing.
After some good-natured bickering, we settled on a cute blue bikini that was revealing enough to make Tom happy but still left something to the imagination. We grabbed some other beach essentials - sunscreen and a couple of towels.
Back in the car, Tom fiddled with the radio as we hit the road again. The opening chords of "Sweet Caroline" filled the car, and Tom's face lit up.
"Oh, hell yes," he grinned, cranking up the volume. "Come on, Sara, I know you know this one."
"You're such a dork."
As Neil Diamond's voice crooned through the speakers, he belted the lyrics off-key. "Where it began, I can't begin to knowing..."
"Oh my God, stop," I laughed, covering my ears in mock pain. "You're butchering it!"
He just sang louder, drumming on the steering wheel. "But then I know it's growing strong..."
I shook my head but found myself joining in for the chorus. "Sweet Caroline," we sang together, Tom's terrible voice mixing with my slightly less terrible one. "Bum bum bum!"
We continued like that for the rest of the drive, singing along to whatever came on the radio. Tom knew every word of "Bohemian Rhapsody" and made a disturbingly accurate impression of Freddie Mercury. I surprised him by rapping every "Ice Ice Baby" verse without missing a beat.
The final "Don't Stop Believin'" notes faded as we pulled into the beach parking lot. I was breathless from laughing and singing, my cheeks hurting from smiling so much.
He killed the engine, and we just sat there, grinning at each other like idiots.
"Ready to hit the sand?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.
"Born ready," I replied, hopping out of the car.
We grabbed our bags and made our way to the changing rooms. I slipped into the blue bikini we'd bought, adjusted the straps, and gave myself a once-over in the mirror. It was not bad, Sara. It was not bad at all.
When I stepped out, Tom was already waiting, looking like he'd just stepped off the cover of a men's fitness magazine. His abs were on full display, and I had to physically stop myself from drooling.
"See something you like?" he smirked, catching me staring.
"Please. I've seen better."
"Liar," he shot back, grabbing our stuff. "Come on, let's find a spot."
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