Carlos looks over and Ray sends him a smug smile before pulling Isla’s hips back into his. Oh boy. Talk about poking the bear.
Carlos snorts. “Why should she settle for second best because of some stupid rule I made in sixth grade?”
“Seriously,” I agree. “He knows she’s into you, too, so that just makes it worse, doesn’t it?”
He holds his fisted right hand in his left. “Sure does.”
The music stops and Isla heads over to the drinks.
“Go,” I encourage. “Now’s your chance, dude.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs. As if a second thought, he looks back. “Thanks, J.”
I nod. “No prob, C-Dawg.”
He looks at me and bursts out laughing.
“Yeah, I can’t quite pull that off like your friends do, huh?”
“Not even close,” he calls over his shoulder as he walks away. Over to Isla. Her eyes widen and her cheeks flush even more. Carlos picks up a bottle of water and opens it, then hands it to her. She looks down at the bottle, then up at him through her lashes. Perfect.
My work here is done.
“Smooth, Jillie. Very smooth,” Audrey compliments as she passes by. “I knew you had it in you.”
“Not yet, she doesn’t,” some guy yells. Another yells, “I’ll give it to her!” I swear, every single guy either laughs or catcalls. Maybe they have the body of men, but not the maturity. I roll my eyes and take a sip of my water.
Heathens, as my granny would say.
Audrey’s busy with Brent, Isla’s busy with Carlos: I’m free. I scoop up more bottled water, stuff them in my backpack, and make my way down the beach. I breathe a breath of fresh air. It’s so much cooler here without that fire, and the air actually smells clean.
I find the perfect spot, just below an overhang, and spread out my blanket. I sneak out my Kindle and lay on my back.
Whoa. I’m more than slightly intoxicated. The world is spinning. I sit up slowly and take another drink of water. Audrey wasn’t kidding. That punch was potent. I only had… 1, 2, 3… um, 4… 5… 6 cups. Six cups? I look at the time. We’ve only been here two hours. I am so screwed. I hope I don’t puke.
I’m about to dig through my backpack for something to eat when I sense someone staring at me. I look up into the face of the hottest guy I’ve ever seen—hotter than Trey Morgan from back home, and that’s telling you a whole lot! He’s got dark hair that’s been kissed by the sun and likely the surf, and muscles. Lots of muscles. And a bare chest. With a tattoo that I can’t stop staring at. I’m too drunk to make out what it is.
“Hey,” he says by way of introduction.
I look up at his face. “’Sup?” Oh God, I sound like an idiot.
He smirks a bit. “I just needed a breather and I saw you over here all hooked up with a blanket.”
“Afraid to get sand in unwelcome places?” I ask and want to slap myself.
He grins. “Something like that. I’ve got chips,” he sing-songs.
“Total bribe.”
He shrugs.
“I’ll take it,” I reply and grab one of the two bags of potato chips. “I must warn you, I am a big chip eater. Like, the whole bag in one sitting sometimes.”
“No shit?” he asks, surprised. “I gotta see this.” He sits cross-legged facing me. Wow, he means business. I better fess up.
“Well, I’m not sure tonight is a good night to demonstrate this for you. I’ve imbibed in more than a little liquor and I don’t want to hurl.”
“Yeah. Good plan,” he chuckles.
