'90s Playlist (Romance Rewind #1)

by Anthology

  Maybe I needed to slow down on the drinks. I ran my fingers down my glass and said, “I have to actually make it through law school first.”

  “Don’t forget the little people on the West Coast, okay?” He smirked and my heart sped up to the same tempo as the steel drums hammering over the speakers in the lounge.

  I swallowed hard and laser-focused my gaze on my drink, definitely not on Chase’s gel-styled hair. “I’ll make sure to include all the little people in my graduation speech.”

  I sat back in the padded floral chair and looked out at the dock where people were standing in line to board another cruise ship on the other end of the pier. The atmosphere in the ship was bustling with eager spring breakers ready to get shitfaced and have a good time. It was only five and some of them were already stumbling across the decks the same way freshman did at the end of a frat party during fall semester.

  “So which of the bingo items do you think you guys will complete first?”

  “I bet there’ll be drunk-crying by eight.” Drew jutted his chin toward a group of girls wearing Greek letters wasted out of their mind near the far end of the room. One of them had her arms around both her friends, doing high kicks and giggling.

  “Good assumption. But I think I’ll get someone to buy me a sex on the beach before the crying happens,” said Melissa.

  I rolled my eyes. No one had ever accused her of being modest.

  “Oh, you didn’t mean actual sex on the beach? How disappointing.” Drew mock-sighed and pushed his bottom lip into a pout.

  Melissa smacked Drew’s arm. “Perv.”

  “Takes one to know one, list-writer.”

  “Well, I’m gonna go cross some stuff off my list.” She waved her list in Drew’s face and gave a taunting eyebrow raise. “You guys can sit here and rack up drink bills.”

  Gauntlet officially thrown down.

  Melissa knew how to work people, studied them, a skill that would come in handy when she started her career in diplomatic relations. But in the meantime, she’d use her skills to rile up my brother. And judging from the pink rising in his cheeks, she was pushing the right buttons.

  Drew pushed away from the table and sped off in the direction of the bar. “Hey, I bet I’ll get that one done before you.”

  “You think someone will buy you a sex on the beach?” Melissa called after him.

  He turned around, now walking backwards, and said, “Hell yeah, ladies love buying girly drinks for dudes.”

  They disappeared in a crowd of people, still bickering.

  I shook my head and smiled. “Those two.”

  Chase laughed. “Made for each other.”

  I drummed my fingers on the table now fully aware that I was alone with Chase.

  Do not look at his forearms. Do not.

  I did. And his hands. Specifically his index finger that etched along the curve of his cuticle of his thumb, back and forth, back and forth. The motion was both transfixing and oddly turning me on. Really, could a dry spell cause physical harm? I was putting it to the test here. It was a stinging reminder that it’d been months since I got out of a relationship with The Jerk.

  I thought I’d been in love, that he loved me too, but my ex, Brandon, had a bad habit of not keeping his dick in his pants. Since he lived in Arizona, I had the pleasure of finding this out when I flew in for a surprise visit for his birthday. He was celebrating in his birthday suit already, with another girl. My feelings for him were long gone, but he’d taught me one important lesson—long distance relationships were a joke.

  I shook my head. I would not think about Brandon on this cruise. He didn’t deserve another nano second of my time. I flattened my palms on the table and looked out at the crowd of people meandering about the room.

  We’d managed to score a table in one of the lounges on the ship while other spring-breakers prowled around, waiting for tables to empty. A buzz filled the air as thousands of twenty-somethings were crammed into a luxury cruise ship. The steel drum music gave way to Sisqo’s Thong Song and my knee instinctively bobbed to the beat.

  I’d never been a thong girl. Butt floss really wasn’t my style. But then again, my style never got me any luck in the dating department. That needed to change.

  Last week, I decided to do a complete overhaul, determined to change this path on a straight course to perpetual singledom and traded my overalls and a white crops top for cutoffs and a bandeau tops—and butterfly clips to add some pizazz. I’d also invested in a few Victoria’s Secret panties—one red thong and two black ones. Not that anyone would be seeing these, but I felt ten times sexier with this little wardrobe change.

  “This list is totally whack,” said Chase.

  A smile ticked at my lips. “That’s Melissa for you.”

  Chase poked his finger smack dab in the middle of the paper. “No, I mean it doesn’t even have anything fun like eat something from every food station on every floor.”

  “It’s a shame, really.”

  He scoffed. “Three-way-kiss? Are we on Jerry Springer?”

  “We might be if it happens.” My cheeks heated at the realization that I’d just implied that I would be a part of his kiss. Yeah, not happening.

  If that statement came out awkward, he didn’t take notice. He was too focused on the bingo sheet.

  After scanning the list for a few seconds, Chase looked up and gave a mischievous grin that made my insides melt faster than ice left out in the blazing sun of the Lido Deck. “This may seem a little forward, but will you be the Jack to my Rose?”

  My heart crashed against the walls of my chest, trying to make a break for it. “As long as you promise to let me have the piece of shipwreck all to myself if the ship hits an iceberg.”

  He stroked his fingers along the stubble of his chin, feigning deep contemplation at my request. “I think I can handle that.”

  I nodded. “Then we have a deal.”

  We raced toward the bow of the boat, past groups of guys in aviators and girls in bikinis with less fabric than my sexiest lingerie.

  Note to self: maybe I was doing the whole lingerie thing wrong. Time to invest in skimpier skivvies.

  The boat had just disembarked from the port and was cruising into the setting sun of the Gulf of Mexico. The water glistened, a picturesque image of millions of diamonds skittering across the surface. Everything, all the sounds of spring breakers, the distant music, the crashing waves below, was drowned out by the wind and gulls circling the bow of the boat.

  The stillness of it all, being the only two in this spot, staring out at the endless horizon, shifted the moment into something that felt much more intimate than a rowdy cruise for twenty-somethings.

  We stepped up on the place closest to the bow of the boat and Chase dug the camera out of his cargo shorts.

  “Photographic evidence.” His lips parted into a lazy smile that effectively had my pulse hammering against my temples.

  We positioned ourselves just as Kate and Leo in Titanic, my hair whipping across my cheek as I stared out at the gulf. I had to admit, this was cheesy as heck, but with Chase pressed up behind me, my inner romantic had a hard time caring about anything but the way his warm body felt against mine.

  “Umm how are we going to make sure we’re both in the picture?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tried to take a picture of myself.”

  “Seems weird, huh?”

  Chase lowered his face to where his cheek was pressed against mine, his stubble rubbing across my face. He snapped the picture, but he remained there even as he lowered the camera.

  The right thing to do would be to wriggle out from between his arms, but the heat of his skin pressed against my own made me linger, to want things I wouldn’t have entertained twenty-four hours ago.

  I turned around slowly, forcing my back into the metal bar, his arms on either side of me, caging me in. At that moment, every movement produced tiny shockwaves that skittered down my spine. Fierce at first, each wave
gradually subsided, leaving a dull ache in its wake, only to be quickly replaced with a flood of new sensations. The small brush of his skin against my arm. His labored breaths fanning across my face. The way his teeth grazed along his bottom lip as his eyes searched mine.

  I’d never given a second thought to Chase’s lips before, but up close, they were a dark shade of pink, nicely plump, and totally kissable. What would it feel like to have them graze along my neck? The soft spot of my ear?

  Maybe it was the fact I was thousands of miles away from my normal life in California, or that we were both so very different now than the people we’d known last summer, but something gave me the extra push of boldness I needed to tilt my chin up and give him the green light if he wanted to make a move. We stayed still for a moment, the wind rifling between us, flattening his shirt to his chest, his hair tousled. My gaze met his and the flicker of desire I’d seen earlier was now in full-force, sending a blaze rippling underneath my skin.

  An ache settled between my thighs, pulsing with a need for Chase, a new need that could not be ignored.

  He licked his lips and started to lean in. I closed my eyes. This was it. I ran my tongue over my lips and waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  I half expected a recording of cricket chirps to creep from the speakers down the deck, because the window of time that was socially acceptable to steal a kiss was coming to an end. After a few seconds of nothing happening, I opened my eyes and the desire in Chase’s eyes had extinguished faster than a strong gust taking out a birthday candle flame.

  He cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking everywhere but me. “We should get back to the group.”

  Okay, clearly that whole moment had just taken place in my head. Mortification, party of one. Yep, not awkward whatsoever. I worked at keeping my voice steady, even as my throat tightened with the hot tinge of rejection. “Oh, yeah, no problem.”

  What was I thinking? This was Chase. A day ago, he hadn’t even crossed my mind as being hook-up material. Those sangrias in combination with my dry spell must have lowered my inhibitions. Yep. That was it.

  I ran my tongue over my bottom lip and looked over his shoulder at the pinks and purples of the setting sun. This was definitely for the best. He’d just saved us from things getting more uncomfortable than I’d just made it. I mean how would I face him during the holidays? I couldn’t just lock myself in my room while our families sang Christmas carols and my mom played piano, everyone camped out by the crackling fire of a stockinged fireplace. Yes, kissing would be a mistake.

  “Sounds good.” I kept my voice light, forcing the sting of rejection out of those two words.

  But I couldn’t help wondering why I cared so much that nothing had happened.

  Chapter 4

  Chase

  Assiest thing I’d ever done in my life: Turning down Em last night.

  If I’d taken one taste of Emily, I wouldn’t have stopped there. I’d want—no, need—to devour every inch of skin, slowly, thoroughly, just the way I’d imagined for years. But there’d be no tasting because of a damn promise I’d made Drew. I didn’t want to lead her on or get her hopes up, but if I made it clear things wouldn’t go past Sunday, did that really count as going against my best friend’s wishes?

  We’d docked at Cancun for the day and I told Drew and the girls that I’d meet them on the beach after I took a shower. A very cold shower. Even twelve hours later, I couldn’t get that close encounter of the hard-on-inducing kind out of my head.

  After showering and throwing on a pair of board shorts, I wandered around the complex with tiny stands that sold souvenirs, all surrounding a center stage for the singers performing tonight. A few women braided little girls’ hair, adding multi-colored beads. People in lame Hawaiian t-shirts took pictures with cameras fastened around their necks. I walked past the village until I hit the strip of beach. Hundreds of people dotted the sand in towels, umbrellas and beach bags. With this many people, it’d take me until nightfall to find my group. Luckily I didn’t have to look for long because Melissa came bounding across the sand in her bright pink thong bikini like a moving neon sign. A group of guys stared after her as she ran past, letting out whistles and cat-calls. I got the appeal, she was really hot, but she had nothing on Emily.

  “You just missed it!” She waved her arms wildly, a bright smile plastered on her face.

  I scanned the beach in search for what she was talking about. “What?”

  “Some girl had a total meltdown on the Jerry Springer event.”

  “Dammit. Let me guess, you spotted it first.” She was officially kicking our asses in this wacked out game of bingo.

  She grinned. “Yep. The girl totally kicked that douchebag right in the nuts.” Melissa raised her knee, mimicking the crown-jewel-destroying move.

  Phantom pain shot straight to my lower region. I felt for the dude. “Ouch.”

  She cackled. “Every guy in the audience doubled over.”

  Universal law: every guy experienced sympathy pain when they witnessed another man getting hit in the balls.

  We trekked across the sand until we reached a set of blue beach blankets and Melissa’s telltale Pepto-Bismol pink bag lying across one.

  Em was on her back, a pair of Oakley’s over her eyes and her lightly bronzed arms slack at her sides.

  Melissa elbowed me in the side. “Dude, she’s not a T-bone.”

  “Ow.” I rubbed my ribs and moved farther away from her. Damn elbows were lethal. “Huh?”

  She quirked a brow and shook her head. “Oh, honey, you got it so bad. Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

  Shit, was I that obvious? No way. Out of respect for Drew and Em, I’d kept my distance. Blondie here was bluffing. “I don’t have any feelings for Em.”

  It’d do jack shit to tell Em how I felt. We were leaving in a few days and if what Drew said was true, I really didn’t want to dick around with her emotions, even if what I was feeling was very real.

  She put her hands on her hips and stared me down. The chick barely hit five feet and she had the intimidation factor of an offensive lineman. “You are quite possibly the worst liar I’ve ever seen.”

  “I’m not lying.” My voice pitched higher on the last word, like I was a damn thirteen-year-old again. I cleared my throat and said, “Really, there’s nothing between us.”

  She eyed Em and lowered her voice. “For what it’s worth, I see the way she looks at you. I think it’s mutual.”

  No shit. Key issue numero uno right there. Because if I made those feelings known, what if I wanted to take things past our four days together? It’d make being separated by three thousand miles that much tougher. So why put us in that position?

  I huffed out a laugh, trying not to let on how stoked I was to hear Em thought of me as more than a friend. “Seriously, you must be high.”

  “Hey, that was one time. Don’t bring bad freshman year choices into this.”

  I walked the extra few feet to our spot and dropped down onto the blanket between Drew and Emily.

  “Drew, wanna come with me to get a snow cone?” asked Melissa.

  He nodded toward me in his yeah, buddy, I’m going to get some later grin. If I was blatantly obvious, he was a friggin’ sky banner.

  After Drew got up and left with Melissa, I turned to Em. She smiled and pushed a rogue curl behind her ear. It sprung back over her ear in defiance. “Hey.”

  The familiar ache grew in my stomach. Say something, you chicken. Tell her you regret not kissing her last night. But all that came out was, “Nice weather, huh?”

  I brought up the weather? Why not talk about my grandma’s bunions? Or Furbies being an issue of national security? I heard that was the new “it” topic.

  She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

  I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders, pushing myself to man up. I’d screwed up with the anti-kiss. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night.”<
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  “No worries.” She stared off at the water, and the silence that spanned between us made it clear that I had a lot of work to do if I wanted to turn things back to normal.

  Think.

  How was I going to make this less awkward? I glanced out to the water, motor boats speeding across the choppy waves, distant screams echoing to the beach as people were lifted up into the air. Bingo. We’d always done stuff together, it was how we’d gotten so close over the years, so why not have some fun out on the water to take our minds off of how bad I’d messed up?

  “Want to go parasailing?” Completely platonic way to spend time with each other. We’d face forward and I wouldn’t have to look at her beautiful face. Or her smile that made my heart flatline. Or that cute cluster of freckles running along the bridge of her nose. Damn, I was more pathetic than a Boyz II Men song.

  She quirked a brow and shifted to her side. The strings of her bikini hit right at the dip on the curve of her hip and it took every ounce of restraint to resist tugging those strings loose. Definitely not helping with the friends-only mindset.

  “You mean up in the air. In a flimsy contraption attached to a boat that’s probably being operated by a drunk?” she said.

  “Yeah.” They had them in California, people rode them all the time with no issues.

  She laughed. “You really don’t want me to live to see law school do you?”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. “It’s perfectly safe.” Or at least I thought it was.

  She pointed a perfectly polished pink nail at me. “Obviously you didn’t see the 20/20 episode on them.”

  I didn’t know if she was giving me a hard time because of last night or if they were, in fact, dangerous. Then again, who was I to argue with Barbara Walters? “Jet Skiing?”

  A smile played at her lips. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

  We walked up to the booth in silence, leaving our towels behind on the beach, weaving through the mass of bodies tanning on the sand. The warmth of early afternoon sun hit my face as I walked past crashing waves of the crystal blue water next to the girl of my dreams. Sounded like a fucking erectile dysfunction commercial.