“Drinks, that apology, and maybe I’ll think about forgiveness,” she pressed.
Keiran looked ready to argue, lips slightly curled in a show of annoyance, but he eventually sighed. “Fine. Whatever. Your public apology’ll come tomorrow.”
“And I don’t mean some half-assed status update that don’t mean shit. A video. Let me see you’re really sincere.”
“Seriously?” He frowned.
“Seriously.” She munched on the olive, waiting, gaze challenging. Did he really think he could shit on her livelihood and get off so easily?
He shook his head, gaze stormy. “It’ll be done. What drinks does everyone want?”
The ladies tossed out their orders, and Cherisse grinned triumphantly. Score one for her. Keiran turned to head to the bar, and she fell in beside him. He looked down at her. “I don’t need a chaperone.”
“I got a link at the bar. I can get us the drinks faster.”
His skeptical look said he didn’t believe that. “What? You think you got more bar game than me?”
“You’re rapidly losing points here, and yeah. You think cuz you got all this going on”—she drew a circle around his body with her finger—“you can get through faster?” Oh, she would show him.
“Glad you noticed what I got going on.”
God, she wanted to smack that grin right off his face. Damn, her loose lips. She would have never made such a rookie mistake if she hadn’t had a few drinks. “You’re not all that.” Weak as a comeback, but she couldn’t let his ribbing stand.
“I haven’t had any complaints.”
“Well, neither have I!” she shot back, heat rushing up to her face as she grew more pissed off. “We’ll see who gets the bartender’s attention first.”
Challenge flared in his eyes. “Game on.”
This was a game Keiran was going to lose, he just didn’t know it yet. In spite of her increasing urge to cuss up a blue streak at Keiran, she smiled. Poor man.
She waved him forward, glaring at the way his white t-shirt clung to his back as he passed her by. Damn, the workout he must do to get muscles like that.
Nope. What the fuck was she doing checking out his back muscles?
She shook away her wayward thoughts. Get a grip, girl. The bar was crowded. Keiran didn’t bother to push through the people packed around, trying to get the bartender’s attention. He stood back, obviously hoping to use his height to his advantage, and possibly his annoyingly charming smile. He had that grin set to stun as he signaled to the Chinese woman with the long black hair who was sliding a beer over to one of the patrons.
“Hi.” Keiran ramped up the bright smile.
Cherisse kept her grin in check. Barely. This was going to be hilarious. The woman’s slight frown transformed into a full-blown grin, lighting up her round face. “Hey, darling! Am I glad you decided to grace me with your sexy self tonight.”
Keiran tossed Cherisse a victorious smile before turning back to the woman. “Glad to be of service. Can I get...?”
The bartender’s brow went up. “Not you.” She waved Keiran away, his mouth dropping open at the obvious dismissal. Cherisse suppressed the urge to cackle at his stunned face.
“Hey, CK.” She smiled back.
They’d gotten friendly when CK had been roped in to work the bar at a fancy event last-minute. Cherisse had been there too, having supplied the desserts. They’d struck up a conversation after CK had tried flirting with her but soon realized nothing would come of it, which they’d had a good laugh about. Then they kept running into each other whenever Cherisse came here, and a sort of friendship had formed, one where CK did some harmless flirting, which guaranteed Cherisse got her order quickly. A trade of sorts, which they both found amusing and just rolled with.
Cherisse rattled off the drink orders and fixed Keiran with a smug stare as CK went off to fix them right up.
“What the hell just happened?”
Cherisse patted the front of Keiran’s shirt, ignoring the way his solid chest felt beneath her palm. She snatched her hand away before she could dwell on that. “Sorry, buddy. You’re not her type.”
He mumbled something she couldn’t catch over the excited shouts of the sports fans. She was enjoying this way too much. They stood waiting on the drinks, not saying a thing until CK returned. Keiran muttered thanks as he slid his card over. When CK returned his card and the drinks, she propped her elbows on the bar, leaning over.
“Tell me something, though. How you always getting finer every time I see you?” CK asked, winking dramatically.
Cherisse grinned, shrugged. “Well, when you have a messy, public showdown with your cheating ex, you gotta make sure you keep it all on point going forward, right?”
CK nodded. “Giiirl, yes.” Her gaze slid to Keiran. “This the new man?”
“No. Hell no.” Her and Keiran? What a joke?
She snorted at his affronted look. He could twist up his face all he wanted. Cherisse wasn’t going to pretend that was a thing. That they were a thing.
CK eyed Keiran up and down. “Shame,” she said, looking back at Cherisse, mischief dancing in her brown eyes. “Y’all look kinda good together.” CK was pushing things now. Time to exit.
Cherisse grabbed what drinks she could, threw a “later” at CK, then carefully made her way back to the table. She didn’t need to wait on Keiran; he’d served his purpose.
When she got back, the table was deserted. What the fuck? She looked around for her sister and Remi. Maxine was absent too. Cherisse set the drinks down. She spied Julia dancing with Scott and tried to signal to them, but they were both too busy boogying to notice her waving.
Keiran finally showed up with the rest of the drinks. “Huh, we’ve been ditched.”
Eric was suspiciously missing as well. Cherisse could bet she knew where her sister was. Seriously, those two couldn’t even be separated for one night?
“I’d bet anything Ava and Eric found a dark corner somewhere. Those two, I swear, disgustingly in love.”
“You really think so?” Keiran asked, sipping his beer.
“This place has sentimental value for them. First date, first make-out session in the car park, first bathroom sex moment.”
Keiran choked on his beer. He wiped his mouth. “What?”
“Oh, yeah, my sis loves to overshare this shit.”
“Wow, I didn’t think Eric had it in him to do public sex.” He gulped at his beer as if it was too hard to wrap his mind around that.
The sudden jolt of their table signaled Ava’s return. Ava giggled as she tried to steady herself against the tabletop. Cherisse eyed the massive hickey on Eric’s neck.
“Whoops.” Ava held on to the table as she slid into her seat. She’d nearly knocked over the drinks, clearly tipsy. They had been hitting the drinks hard since they’d arrived at the bar. “Had to go to the bathroom.”
“And I, uh, helped her do that.” Eric didn’t even try for a good excuse. It seemed ladies’ night had been truly invaded.
“Did you see my sister in there?” Keiran asked.
Eric and Ava exchanged secretive looks, then both said, “Nope,” at the exact same time and busted out laughing like that was the funniest thing. Cherisse hoped the guys had a designated driver because either Eric was high on whatever fooling around he’d done with Ava, or he was just plain drunk.
Their crew had hired a taxi because Julia had to leave early, and the rest of them planned to get as tanked as they wanted. They were celebrating, after all.
“We saw nothing,” Ava sang out.
“We know nothing,” Eric added.
Cherisse glanced at Keiran, who shrugged. Guess he didn’t know what that was about, either.
“Hey, let’s dance!” Ava cheerfully proclaimed, dragging Eric over to Julia and Scott.
Cherisse took a big swig of her drink just as Remi returned and announced, “I really had to pee. Sorry to abandon you to this.” She waved at Keiran. “It was one of those nevere
nding ones.”
“Thanks for that info,” Keiran said dryly.
Remi pointed a finger at him. “No one cares what you think.” She grabbed up the drink Cherisse pointed to, eyes extra-bright. Oh yeah, Remi was also on her way to Tipsyville.
So was she, because she didn’t bother to filter herself or her desire to rub Keiran’s loss in his face. The mini bar challenge wasn’t anything much in the grand scheme of things, but any little leg up she could get over Keiran, she would take it. “Keiran failed at getting CK’s attention. He thought he could beat me.”
Keiran’s brow creased, and that frown was a lovely balm to the tiny bit of lingering annoyance over his presence and his general existence.
He shook his head. “That entire challenge was rigged from the start.”
Remi laughed, and Cherisse emptied her glass, sliding it over to Keiran. “Be a darling and refresh my drink, won’t you?”
She jumped up and linked arms with Remi, pulling her toward the dance floor while she left Keiran sulking.
KEIRAN
The separate crews’ night had turned into one giant co-thing. Cherisse’s protests from earlier had died away, possibly swallowed up by the drinks Keiran still supplied. They’d all jumped on the “make his sorry ass pay” wagon, milking it until the end, maybe even until the bar was ready to close and toss them out. Even Maxine. Traitor. Somewhat luckily for him, there was now a two-for-one special going on in honor of whatever rugby team was winning.
Some hot wings joined the myriad of glasses that littered their table, and the women descended on them.
“Oh my God, these are so good,” Cherisse crooned. Eyes growing increasingly brighter as the night went on, she’d gotten more cheerful, at his expense. The shots flowed liberally.
This exuberant Cherisse was deadly, carefree, swaying from side to side, mouthing along with the hip-hop song currently blasting through the bar. Long hair swished around her shoulders, cheeks flushed from the dancing and the drinks, as she chowed down on her chicken right there on the dance floor, not caring one bit. The rugby game had finally ended, transforming the bar into full-on dance session mode.
“Best. Wings. Ever.” Maxine bumped his shoulder as he reached for a wing in the quickly depleting pile. She was having fun too. He was glad for that. His sister deserved a good time.
She swatted his hand. “Nope. I’ve been charged with making sure you get none of these. Cherisse’s rules.”
“Since when do you do anything she says?” They weren’t downright hostile to each other anymore, but they weren’t friends either.
Maxine pointed a half-eaten wing his way. “Since you were an ass and deserve to be punished and wingless.”
“Et tu, Maxi?” Standing guard over the wings seemed a bit excessive. Maxi swiped up the basket, wiggling her fingers in a little wave as she left him.
Keiran was pondering how desperate he was to get his own damn wings and hide in a corner to eat them without being judged when Eric rolled up. “Dude!” Eric shouted in his ear as he draped his arm over Keiran’s shoulder. “I’m so lucky. So damn lucky she said yes!”
Happiness dripped off his friend. A tiny twinge of jealousy beat against his wingless stomach. He needed to rectify at least one of those feelings. The chicken was the easiest to remedy. The happiness Eric so obviously felt was something Keiran realized he’d lacked in relationships. Had he ever truly had that? With his music, sure. He could say without a doubt that made him happy. His past relationships had mostly been great, except his last one that had been damaged beyond repair. Thinking on it now, he could say he’d cared for his exes while he’d been with them, but this level of joy? He didn’t know.
“Happy for you, man.” He meant that.
“You’ll have that too. I know it!” Eric pointed with his chin. “Ask her to dance.”
He expected Cherisse to toss her wing bones at him if he even breathed too close to her. Asking her to dance seemed life-threatening. The drinks had been accepted, that didn’t mean she wanted him all up in her space to dance. Why the hell would she after what he’d thoughtlessly said to that blogger?
“Nah. I don’t have a death wish.”
Eric pouted. “Just let my OTP sail, man.”
“I have no idea what that means, but it’s not happening.”
Still, he observed Cherisse as she danced with Scott, body limber, movements growing more relaxed with each drink she downed. There’d been a time when he’d been outright jealous of Scott’s easy way with Cherisse. He knew nothing but friendship would come of it. Scott was gay and hung up on someone else. Someone who wasn’t Keiran. Both things had irked him at the time, even as he’d scolded himself for caring. It hadn’t helped any of the confusion he’d been dealing with. Teenage Cherisse had been aloof with him, didn’t even give him the time of day, but Scott? Got the biggest of smiles, the tightest of hugs. After things didn’t go as expected with Scott—he still cringed at that day he’d almost imploded their friendship—his teen self had been bitter at the attention his best friend showered on Cherisse. Irrationally so, which didn’t help the tenuous relationship he and Cherisse had.
Then he’d foolishly somehow slowly fallen into crushing on Cherisse. The worst idea. That also hadn’t helped his panic over discovering he wasn’t straight.
He watched as Scott and Cherisse pretended to twirl each other now, her head thrown back as her body shook with genuine laughter. Ava came over and pulled Eric back on the dance floor, leaving him alone to watch. Keiran had danced a bit with Julia earlier, but it felt a bit as if everyone was punishing him for messing up. The bridesmaids, for sure. His own damn fault, but it was getting to him.
He found himself drifting closer as Scott and Cherisse kept at it. Their movements grew bigger and wider—no doubt they were having fun—until Scott whirled over to him, and Keiran suddenly found his arms filled with an equally surprised Cherisse as Scott shouted, “Bathroom! Take over for me!”
She blinked up at him but was either too shocked or tipsy to move out of his embrace. “Uh.” She peered around him, watching Scott hustle away.
Keiran, too aware of Cherisse in his space, was at a loss for what his next action should be. Release her and go back to being a pariah? She hadn’t moved away yet, but he should. Except the feel of the soft skin of Cherisse’s arm under his made it hard to do anything but hold on, and for once, she wasn’t looking at him as if he was something unpleasant that had gotten stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
“Do you want to dance?” It slipped out before he could stop himself, before he thought better of it.
She stepped away from him, looking horrified at the idea. “I’m not that drunk. But now I need another drink.” She shot him another incredulous stare, shook her head as if he’d asked the most ridiculous question, then walked away.
Well, he’d tried. A lot of good that did. Damn Eric and his nonsense talk about OTPs or whatever.
Chapter 7
Cherisse
A HAND, FLUNG IN HER face, jolted Cherisse awake, mouth parched, and feeling grimy. Had she even brushed her teeth last night before tumbling into bed? Cherisse carefully removed the hand that she realized belonged to Remi. Remi shifted to her side, so her back was to Cherisse, the blanket pulled up until it almost covered her head, her messy bun the only thing visible.
Something tickled her shoulder, and she nearly screamed as she reached to brush it off and encountered her hair unbound. Dammit, she hadn’t even wrapped her hair last night.
The throb in her temples made her wince. She’d forgotten to drink water before bed—her dry mouth was indication enough—and vaguely remembered shucking her clothes and crawling into the bed. She moved the cover down, and yup, she was in just her underwear. God, she was a mess, and so was her hair probably, since she hadn’t slept with her silk head tie. She squinted around the unfamiliar room. Where the fuck?
Clearly, her brain was still alcohol-soaked. She recalled dancing with Scott and Eric, even a ran
dom guy or two from the bar. The latter half of the night was sort of fuzzy, and there had been one guy she’d been laughing up a storm with as he twirled her around, but that had been the extent of it. Dancing with a bunch of people, except Keiran. She remembered the small look of hurt when she’d shot down his offer. But she must have imagined it. Keiran didn’t even like her. She’d just made him buy drinks for them all last night, so he couldn’t have been serious.
Cherisse nudged Remi. She mumbled something unintelligible and didn’t move. Cherisse felt like shit. She pressed her hand to her aching head, trying to will the pain away. She looked around—taking in the bedroom—when it clicked. Her parents’ house. The guest room. There’d been a reason for them crashing here instead of going home, but damned if her hurting head would let her remember why. Ugh, fuck this morning seriously, with its bright ass sunlight seeping in through the not-heavy-enough curtains.
The bedroom door flung open, and Ava hustled in. “Wake up!”
Cherisse flinched as something cold landed on her chest. The fuck? She grabbed at the bottle of water before it rolled down her stomach. “Wha—”
Remi snuffled next to her but didn’t get up. In fact, she burrowed even further under the covers.
“Get up, Cherry. I’m serious!” Ava looked frazzled, her hair all over the place. Judging from the pillow marks on her cheek, she’d just gotten up too. She was still in her sleep shorts and top that boasted a Winnie the Pooh print.
“Where’s the fire?” Cherisse eased up into a sitting position, clutching the water bottle. Her head kept up the throbbing. Thankfully, there was no urge to throw up. As actual hangovers went, this one wouldn’t have her immobile.
“I forgot! Forgot my own dress appointment! April called, and I had to act like I knew it was today all along, but I. Did. Not. Remember. We’re late. We need to leave in the next hour, and God...I’m never drinking again.” She pressed a hand to her stomach, mouth twisted into a grimace. “Just get your asses up.”
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