The idea of having power over Ren made me feel a little lightheaded.I’d always felt like the one on the back foot – he had always been the cooler one, the one with more social currency.I’d been the peppy, overexcited best friend who usually made a fool of herself at some point during the party.But Ren had said he would do anything – anything to make it up to me.Maybe if I pushed him far enough, he would realise it was doomed.Wewere doomed.And he’d leave me alone.
‘Ren,’ I barked across the fire pit.Ren’s head shot up.The ladies looked between us curiously.
‘Lydia,’ he said, a little amused.
I almost lost my nerve, tempted to make something up, but I was keen to swipe the smug look off his face.
‘Mandy said you brought a cocktail shaker,’ I said, tilting my head.‘But I don’t see a drink in my hand.’
A ripple of laughter passed through the camp, low and knowing.
Bold.Maybe too bold.God, did that sound bitchy?
Ren’s face flickered and he didn’t look offended.Quite the opposite, actually.His eyes were a little glazed, as he took me in.
‘What can I get you?’ he asked, his voice gentler than I expected.‘Name it – I’ll make it.’
An hour and a half later, we were four cocktails deep, all giggling, Joni Mitchell drifting from Amy’s phone as the fire crackled between us.
‘Another cocktail, ladies?’ Ren asked with a grin, leaning across the flames to top up Gen and Claire’s glasses from the metal cocktail shaker he’d packed, along with a million tiny bottles of spirits, like some kind of wilderness bartender.
‘Yes, please,’ I said, feigning innocence as I leaned forward, a mischievous glint in my eye.‘Could I have a margarita this time?’
Ren’s eyes twinkled.‘Of course.At your service, madam.’
He worked the cocktail shaker and, with the spirits thrumming through my veins, I couldn’t help but track Ren’s arms, and the way they flexed.He looked handsome with the firelight flickering off his face, at ease, even as we ordered him about.He came around the fire to stand behind me, leaning over, his arms brushing my shoulder as he went to pour the drink.
‘Oh, Ren.’
He paused, eyebrow raised, looking down at me expectantly.‘Yes, Lydia?’
I bared my teeth in a smile.‘We need more firewood.’
Ren’s answering slow grin made me wonder if I’d bitten off more than I could chew.He leaned down, to top up my drink.
‘Careful, Sunshine,’ he murmured under his breath.‘You keep barking orders like that and I might start enjoying it.’
My breath caught and I held his gaze and took a sip of the drink, the tequila coming through strong, giving me that boost of confidence I needed around this version of Ren.Then his hand wrapped around mine and he lifted the glass to his lips.
‘Just a taste test,’ he said, sipping from the exact spot I had.‘Want to make sure it’s up to scratch for my most… demanding customer.’
The flush bloomed across my cheeks before I could stop it.I blamed the booze.And the fire.And the bloody audacity of that smile.
He handed the drink back, his fingers lingering just a moment too long – as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go.Then he turned to fetch the firewood, leaving me flustered and wondering who won that round.
I suspected it wasn’t me.
By the time we hit drink four, Gen was on her feet, clinging to Amy, who was already struggling to keep Claire upright.
‘Come on,’ Gen said, the most sober of the three.‘Let’s get to bed.’
‘Night, ladies,’ Ren said, his voice laced with amusement.‘I hope I passed the test.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Amy hiccuped.‘I think so.’
‘With flying pigs,’ Claire added, her eyes pointing in different directions.
‘Flying colours,’ Gen corrected.‘I think you’ve proven yourself.For now.’ Gen pointed her fingers at her eyes, then flipped them around to Ren.‘But we’re watching you, remember.’
