Defeated, Kevin slumps in his chair. “It’s not fair.”
Cassie rolls her eyes. “You’re only mad because you were Team A last time.”
“It sucked.” Kevin takes a sip of his beer. “So boring, and the food was shit.”
“I put everyone’s name in a hat. It’s luck of the draw.”
Hmm. Pretty fair.
Kevin perks up. “Can you leave my name out, since I had to do it last time?”
She cocks her head, silky black hair flowing over her shoulder. An ebony river. “I’d have to do it for everyone on Team A, though. Not feasible.”
“So how was last night?” Geoff asks under his breath, referring to my date.
I shrug. “Fine.”
“Did it help?”
“No.”
He sucks air through his teeth. “Have another drink, then.” He glances over as his wife approaches with Jocelyn. “And, hey, go cook my cheeseburger.”
Right. I can take a hint. I rise from my chair. “Okay, okay.”
“You need help?” Cassie half stands, eyes hopeful.
“Nah, sugar. I got it.”
Jocelyn’s gaze snaps to me, but I won’t look. Refuse to look. Must make myself busy with food. The grill was pre-warmed, so I pull the tray of meat from the outdoor fridge. The sizzle is a comforting cadence for my frazzled nerves. Grilling is simple. Easy. Soothing. And the aroma is unbeatable.
Well...
In a contest, the fragrance of Jocelyn’s skin would probably win. It thoroughly distracts. Enraptures. Both seductive and edible.
Ugh. The girl has taken over my mind.
I still bought her pineapple White Claws. I was at the store, and they were there and... habit. Sort of hate myself for it. When she appears at my side fifteen minutes later and thanks me, gazing at the can like it’s a diamond tennis bracelet, the regret is overwhelming. Don’t want her thanks. Don’t want her praising my favors. Don’t want her near me, looking like that.
She’s in the black bikini.
Beautiful. Glistening. Torturing me.
Maybe the tantalizing expanses of skin wouldn’t bother me if I didn’t know how they tasted. Did she wear the black bikini on purpose? Maybe not. Maybe she doesn’t care and isn’t even trying. Maybe I’m a milksop.
“It was really nice,” she murmurs, so no one else hears, “to buy these for me.”
“Sure.” I swallow against a knot in my throat. A bit painful, that. Do emotions clog there like hair in a shower drain? “Why wouldn’t I?”
Her stare pelts my face. “Maybe because you can’t even look at me right now.”
Behind us, the others laugh and screech as they jump in the pool. The group at the table is now in the midst of a rowdy discussion regarding the merits—and vast degrees of evil—of social media.
I set down the spatula and face Joss full on, giving her a fake, bright grin. “I’m looking. What do you want?”
Her hair is messy, her eyes hollow. She wears no smile, no expression at all. “I just... I hate this, Asher. This isn’t us. You’re drifting away from me, and I want you back.”
Back?I’m not the one who turned her down. My voice lowers. “You rejected me, remember?”
