How about neither of those things.
Me
Aww, come on! You can don some grey sweatpants, stick a rose between your teeth, and gyrate to one of those viral TickTech dances. The ladies will love it!
Sam
Sounds scandalous, Will. That life is behind me. I’m more of a Mimosa pudica these days.
Me
Love Mimosas. I’m in.
Sam
Mimosa pudica: The Shy Plant
Me
Thanks for the gift, dork. Please don’t send me a scaredy plant.
Sam
You’re welcome, nerd. Try to have a little fun out there, yeah? You deserve to let loose.
He’s probably right about that too.Even though we live nine hours apart, Sam’s always looking out for me. We’ve been friends since high school, never anything more. He’s been there in the wings since I escaped to LA over a decade ago, offering support when my family refused. I wouldn’t be where I am without him.
I look up at the star-smattered sky with a wistful smile, wishing I would have taken a quick trip to see him and Maci instead of paying to be miserable on the beach. My phone goes off again, and I look down, expecting another picture.
Unknown
Happy Birthday, sweetheart.
Don’t think I forgot…
My stomach drops.Sweetheart. This bastard is the only person who calls me that, and I haven’t spoken to him in years. I’m ready to throw my phone in the ocean.
Classical music driftsacross the hotel lobby from the piano bar. The serenity that washes over me halts my determined steps. I contemplate continuing to my room, but the lilting of the keys draws me in like a moth to a flame. It’s calm and soothing, and after the chaos of the music festival, I could use some relaxed entertainment. I stand in the lobby, conflicted for several minutes while my dress chafes my underarms from the drying sweat.
After a quick shower, I’m sitting at the bar, drinking a LemonDrop martini that matches the sleeveless sundress I changed into. The dim warm lighting sets a sultry mood throughout the room, glinting off the liquor bottles lining the wall. Sighing, I take another sip. That text message rattled me more than I’d like to admit, but I try to let the alcohol convince me it didn’t. Drinking in a bar by myself probably wasn’t what Sam had in mind when he said to let loose, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, it’smybirthday. A little indulgence could be just what I need…
Okay, a lot of indulgence. The longer I sit, the more relaxed I feel, and one Lemon Drop turns into two. Classical music changes to sultry jazz. My scowl has shifted to a soft smile. This doesn’t happen often, but I’ve been enjoying the music in the bar for a couple of hours now. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am in life, and I didn’t do that by partying and drinking. I like schedules. Routines. And I prefer myowncompany to anyone else’s. But tonight, I indulge.
The blue lighting on the stage illuminates the petite brunette singer who joined the pianist about an hour ago. I sway to the music, drink in hand, like I didn’t just criticize every single person on the beach for doing the same.
“This seems more your style, Jim.”
I’m bumped from the side, triggering the fury I’ve worked so hard to extinguish. I half expect it to be that dude from the beach, except no one but Trevor calls me that stupid-ass name. My head whips around right as he slides onto the high-back barstool next to me. Even with him sitting, I have to tip my head back to look at him. “Are you by yourself?” he asks. Nodding, I take another sip of my drink, stifling the groan in my throat.Social butterflies make my damn head hurt.
Trevor’s my sister’s friend, but I wouldn’t call him mine. Not that he hasn’t tried—he’s friends with everyone. It probably bothers him that I don’t consider him one, but he talks too much for my liking. And he’s too nice. Like helping old ladies across the street and saving the world in a single bound with his glisteningbiceps nice. I don’t care what anyone says, no one is that damn happy all the time. I’d hurt his feelings so fast.
Trevor’s head falls to the side, those dimples sinking into his cheeks as he smiles. The familiar pang of annoyance doesn’t hit my chest like I’m expecting. “Why are you sitting alone in a bar on your birthday, Jim?”
Spoke to soon.“Because I want to,Dimples,” I say, flipping my twists behind me. His olive-green Henley complements his sepia skin, prominently displaying the nautical tattoo sleeve down his left arm. As much as I try not to, I salivate at the veins rippling through his muscular forearm when he slides his elbow onto the bar.This is just biology. An attractive man sits down next to you and your body reacts. It’s normal. Evolutionary. And it doesn’t mean a thing, no matter how much I want to climb him like a tree right now. “Why areyousitting alone in a bar on my birthday?”
He chuckles. “I’m not. I’m sitting with you.”
“Again, I askwhy?”
