Dove
Afew shots of tequila later, the girls have styled me to perfection with a silver bubble-wrap mini dress that comes off looking fancy as fuck and futuristic. Not cheap, to my surprise. My hair is out and hanging down my back in loose waves and my make-up is all shiny silver.
Shea grabs my hand as we walk down the long, steep driveway to the house on Main Street in Deadwater Bay so I don’t tumble over in the extra-tall silver heels she let me borrow. “Who did you say was hosting this party?” I ask, my anxiety getting the better of me being back in this town.
“Some surfer Carla met yesterday.”
Carla shrugs. “Don’t remember his name, but he was cute, sandy-blond man bun and ink, you know the type.”
Goosebumps skate over my skin. Yeah, I do, and it better just be the type and not the man I know. I’m sure I’m being paranoid. Those boys kicked me out. I’m sure Slater hasn’t thought of me since.
Music is blaring from the house before we even step foot in it. Bodies have spilled out onto the driveway as well, some backing out, some just drinking and chatting. We push our way through the crowded doorway and move through a sea of bodies dancing in the front room,staying close to each other. Everyone looks so cool in their creative costumes, ideas I would never have come up with. The boring ones are in plastic garbage bags with masking-tape belts, but they are still funny at least. We move right through the house and out to the back deck that looks out over the beach where it’s not quite as loud.
Carla drags me in the direction of a bar.
“Can you make margaritas?” Shea flirts with the dude behind the bar, grinning and tossing her hair over her shoulder.
“Sure can.” He smirks back at her.
“Three, please.” She turns back to us. “Okay, so we have a quick drink then we dance.”
“Sure you don’t want to hang by the bar?” Carla laughs, motioning to the cute bartender she was flirting with.
“No, it’s a girls’ night, we need to show Dove a good time.”
“I’m already having fun. Dressed in plastic and drinking tequila, how could I not be? You do what you need to, girl.”
He makes fast work of mixing our drinks and slides them across the bar. “Enjoy, ladies.” He winks in Shea’s direction.
With a giggle I take my glass and move over to the other side of the deck with the girls, leaning into the banister rail as I take a large sip. It’s super strong, just what I need to wipe my memory of the last week. Salt spray licks at my skin as I watch the waves tumbling in. This house is the perfect spot for a party.
Shea’s fingers wrap around my arm, and she leans in. “Don’t look now but there is some hot dude checking you out.”
I take another sip of my drink. “You know as soon as you say don’t look, I want to.”
She laughs. “He’s gorgeous, girl, tall, dark hair, broad shoulders. His costume’s shit, though. He’s in a button-up and slacks. Maybe he didn’t get the memo.”
“Fuck, now I have to look.” I move subtly, turning just enough I can see the direction she was looking, but I can’t make out anyone by that description.
“You just missed him; he must have stepped inside or something.”
I polish off my drink. “Let’s go dance.”
Carla squeals, throws back her drink, and grabs my hand, dragging me back inside where the music is pumping. I lose myself to the music, swaying along to the beat like I don’t have a care in the world. This is what I needed. To stop running for long enough I can just live like a normal twenty-five-year-old. Even when I was back in Breakers Point, I felt so on edge all the time that I couldn’t relax and be me.
Song after song, we move and laugh until my feet can hardly take it anymore and my cheeks are aching. “I think I need water.” I laugh. “This plastic dress is like a sauna.”
“I hear you, girl.” Shea wipes the sweat from her arms. The shower curtain would be just as bad.
We head into the kitchen where another bar is set up and grab a couple bottles of water. I throw it back quickly. My head is spinning, but this is the most fun I have had in so long.
“There he is again.” Carla whacks me in the arm.
“Who?” I squeak, grabbing hold of the bench beside me to stop from toppling over.
“The guy who was checking you out earlier.”
This time I’m faster to spin round. Too fast. “Fuck,” I mutter when my blurry eyes focus in on him.
