Now is as good a time as any to get started. I’m gonna need alcohol and a ton of it, in order to put up with Conner. As soon as we got to our room he started complaining which is beyond insane. We don’t have to pay a freaking dollar for our room because Becca’s dad was gracious enough to pay for our ocean view. He had said that since my parents gave us the plane tickets the least he could do was pay for our hotel. But no, our room at a five-star resort isn’t good enough for the devil. Maybe he would prefer the basement . . . ?
“I don’t know.” Becca says with a heavy sigh.
I wrap an arm around her shoulder and pull her into my side. “What happened to having fun? Hmm? Partying?” I bump my hip into hers as I try to get her to smile. “Let’s get drunk and wait until three in the morning and knock on everyone’s hotel room door on our floor while we yell fire.” I offer and she laughs at that.
“We would get in so much trouble.” She says as I pull away from her.
“They would never know it’s us.” I scoff. Who does she think I am? An amateur? I used to do things like that all the time in high school.
She turns to look over at me. Her eyes narrow on me, but a smile tugs at her lips. “I don’t feel like going to jail.”
I look away from her and at the bartender, who is still waiting for my order. I nod my head for the two shots of tequila. “Jail would be better than having to party five days with Conner.” I mumble to myself.
A small hand wraps around my upper arm and I turn back to face her. This time, her eyes are soft and her lips are frowning. “I’m sorry that you don’t like him.” This isn’t the first time she’s apologized for him. “But I couldn’t just leave him back in Seattle.” He followed her from New York to Seattle for school. I guess I can see where she is coming from but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“Don’t apologize. I wouldn’t leave my boyfriend behind either.” I say truthfully. But that’s another reason I don’t have one—high maintenance.
“All right. Here you go, ladies.” The bartender returns with two shots of tequila. He places them on the bar and I hand him some cash.
I lift my shot glass and she lifts hers as well. “Cheers to the last vacation we’re probably gonna have for a while.”
I slam back the liquid before I pick up the lime and hold it out for her. I don’t need the lime but she will need the extra one. I prefer to savor the burning sensation all the way down my throat as I swallow. What can I say; I’ve always been one who likes to feel something. Even if that means the feeling is discomfort or pain.
“God.” Becca gasps for air as if she’s been holding her breath. She bites into her lime and then snatches mine out of my hand to bite into it. “That stuff was strong.” She sucks in a deep breath and grimaces.
“It’s tequila.” I say in my duh voice as I look over at her. “It doesn’t get any stronger than straight tequila, silly.” I look up at the bartender and lift my hand to signal for two more. He winks at me and then gives me a nod.
“I think he likes you.” Becca says with a giggle as he turns his back to us.
“No!” I shake my head. “His job is to flirt and make tips.”
“Come on.” She nudges my side with her elbow. “We’re on vacation and you’re single. Live a little. Just because I have Conner here with me doesn’t mean that you can’t get some.”
“Not that.” I shake my head.
“Is it because of Bradley?” She asks with a naughty smile on her face.
I narrow my eyes at her. “You know that there is nothing there. Bradley is just my fuck buddy.” I state.
She chuckles. “Whatever you say, Ash. Just remember I am going to be your maid of honor when he’s standing at the altar waiting for you.”
I shake my head quickly. “Bradley is a great guy and he will make someone a very good husband someday, but it won’t be mine.” I see him in my future. But I see him coming over with his wife and kids. I don’t see myself waking up with him. I don’t see him holding me tight and telling me he loves me. And we’re both okay with that. Sometimes, two people can have a friendship that allows sex to be involved without having feelings—Bradley and I are that exception.
“Do you see yourself marrying Conner?” This question has been on mind for a while now. They’re both from New York. They got together her freshman year in high school and after she had graduated he moved to Seattle for her. All he has talked about since I met them is how he can’t wait to move back. And the fact that he eye-fucks every woman who walks past him has me wondering why he is even with her.
“I don’t know.” She says softly.
I try not to cringe at her words. “Becca …” I grab her hand and wait for her to look up at me. “Why are you with him? I know exactly why I don’t want anything more with Bradley. But I don’t understand why you are with someone you don’t see a future with.” The fact she can think about a future with him makes me want to shake her small frame until her eyes roll back into her head. No woman should need a man, but if you choose to have one, he should lift you up. Not drag you down.
“I want to marry him,” she whispers, and I refrain from sighing. “And honestly”—she swallows nervously—“every Valentine’s Day, birthday, and Christmas”—she pauses as she bites her bottom lip—“I expect to get a ring, but it never happens.” I barely hear the last sentence because the drunks around us are so loud.
I grind my teeth together. He has officially brainwashed her. “Where are our shots?” I growl, changing the subject.
“I can’t do another one. I’ll puke,” she says, shaking her head and pulling her pink-colored lips back in disgust.
“Fine. I’ll drink both,” I say with a careless shrug. When it comes to drinking, I can keep up with the best of them. I have a high tolerance for alcohol, which usually sucks.
“Maybe I should stick to beer.” She places her arms on the countertop of the bar and then her head falls between them, making her dark hair fan out over the bar.
“Ugh, Becca.” I yank her up by her shoulders. “That’s gross. Drunks have puked there.” This is like the prime place for Spring Break and summer. College kids are literally crawling around in the sand here. Some don’t even look old enough to be out of high school.
“So? I’ve puked on my own hair before,” she says, rolling her dark green eyes at my concern. One particular incident comes to mind—our freshman year at a Halloween party. It took me forever to wash out all the puke. That’s what happens when she drinks vodka and plays beer pong.
She sighs heavily as her eyes dart around the beach and bar area as if she’s lost. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have brought that up.” I always seem to make things worse for her. She is content living in her little Conner bubble, but I always seem to pop it.
“It’s not your fault.” She waves off my apology. “Conner is just pissing me off.” She looks down at the clock on her phone. “What takes a man so long to pee?”
I look up and scan the hundreds of people on the beach. I finally spot him across the circular bar talking to a blond bitch who looks to be no older than fifteen. My eyes narrow on him when he smiles brightly. He is clearly staring down at her tits while she blabbers nonsense, I’m sure. I look down at the empty shot glass that held my first tequila shot and contemplate throwing it across the bar and hitting him in the head with it but choose not to. My luck, I would hit some random person and I really don’t wanna go to jail in Panama City. Anything is possible but hell no would I go for Conner.
“He’s right there.” I say instead, pointing at him.
“What is he doing over there?” she grinds out. “Who is she? He said he had to go to the bathroom.”
“Well, go over there and get him,” I demand, feeling my anger toward him rise. “He’s your boyfriend, and if he’s not gonna act like it, then leave his ass behind,” I say carelessly. I have this theory about men. They’re only good for one thing—sex! I’m not saying that women are any better. People, in
general, lie. These days, people always want the next best thing. And once they have you, you are no longer the next best thing for said person. It’s that grass is always greener bullshit!
Now, I’m all for casual sex, obviously. I sleep with my best friend. But Conner is on a whole different level and I just plain hate him! I don’t use that word easily, but I do when it comes to him. I have never known a man to be as bad as he is. He is like the devil’s nephew. Or possibly his son. He definitely hangs on their family tree and eats little puppies for dinner.
I only see the bad in him, but she sees all the good in him. I don’t know how she can list one great thing. All I can say is the sex must be earth-shatteringly amazing, but I just can’t see him being good at anything besides loving himself.
“Here he comes,” she says with a scowl on her face.
I watch him make his way through the crowd of girls wearing lingerie for bikinis. Geez, I feel overdressed in my tank top and shorts. He pulls his shoulders back, pressing his chest forward as if he works hard for those muscles. I laugh to myself. He’s such a pansy ass.
“There you guys are,” he says with a big smile on his face as he comes to stand beside us. He wraps his arms around her and leans down, placing a deep kiss on her lips. I turn to give them my back as I roll my eyes. He’s totally gonna ruin our vacation. It’s like as soon as he puts his hands on her, she turns into a puddle of water at his feet. “Where have you girls been?” He asks as if he’s really been looking for us.
“Hey,” I yell at the bartender who has his back to me. He turns around to face me. “Tequila shots?” I question, knowing that I had ordered two more like five minutes ago.
He nods his head and hurries to make my shots that he obviously forgot.
“Hey, there’s a concert going on down at the pier. There are like seven bands. They said it’s gonna start in an hour. Then everyone is going to some foam party afterward at a club nearby. You guys wanna go?” he asks after he pulls away from her lips.
“No!” I say flatly, as I give him my go to hell look.
“Why not?” Becca asks softly. “It sounds like a lot of fun.” She reaches out and places her hand on my arm. “Come on, Ash. We’re on vacation.”
I go to speak, but he beats me to it. “Let her stay here if she wants to be a dud.” I narrow my eyes at his shit-colored brown ones.
“Conner—” she snaps, turning to look at him.
“No, he’s right,” I interrupt whatever she was about to say to him. If she stands up for me, he will get mad at her and then leave her here with me to go to the concert and party at the club by himself. I know exactly how he works. And I know he’s secretly hoping for exactly that, but it’s not gonna happen. She let him come on this trip because she wants to spend time with him and I don’t wanna ruin that. “You guys go ahead. I’m gonna have a few more drinks here and then I’ll meet you over there. Okay?”
She frowns and stares at me for a long second. “Are you sure? We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I’m fine staying here.”
“Did you even hear what I said?” he asks her. “It starts in an hour. We need to go down there now to get a good spot.”
I ignore his demand and just nod my head at her. That’s what he wants. I’m not going to keep her here so his pathetic fucking ass can go and dance with other women while he gropes them. “You guys go. I’ll be right there.”
“Okay,” she says slowly, not really wanting to go but torn on what she should say. She pulls me into a tight hug. I look up and throw Conner a fuck you look and he returns it with ease.
They walk away from the bar and I continue to watch him lead her down the beach until I can’t see them through the crowd anymore. “So sorry about that.”
I look at the bar and the guy is placing two shots of tequila on the bar in front of me. “It’s fine,” I say, waving him off. I know they’re crazy busy tonight. I’m just one person in the sea of thousands. I probably would have forgotten too.
“It’s on the house,” he says before winking at me again.
“No, that’s fine. I’ll pay.” He ignores me, walking away to go help another customer. I pick the first one up and down it. Then do the same with the second one. I lick the remainder off my lips and then turn to watch the crowd as my throat burns, and my chest heats up. Everyone looks to be having so much fun. Couples are making out; some even look like they need a room as they hump each other on the sand. A few couples are playing volleyball just down the beach while bright red and blue umbrellas line up as far as the eye can see along the shoreline. I look longingly at the big sun as half of it has disappeared beyond the horizon. It’s so beautiful here. Peaceful. Even with all the drunks.
A young high school age couple walks up to the bar a few spots down from me. The guy wraps his arms around her from behind as she leans over the bar. They’re laughing and I’m positive underage, but the bartender takes her order and starts to make it. The guy pulls her around and kisses her deeply. I stand and watch like a pervert as these two very young kids make out. It makes me sad; now, I wish I had brought Bradley with me. He wanted to come when he found out that Conner was tagging along this morning. He quickly finished getting dressed and then told me he was going home to pack and he would be here later tonight. I told him it would be okay. I handle Conner every day; five days on a beach can’t be that bad. Now, I wish I had let him come.
Pulling my eyes away from the young couple in love, I look down at my phone and pull up his number.
Me: Having fun without me?
The message shows read immediately and then the three dots bounce around, indicating he is typing.
Brad: Not nearly as much fun as you are having with Conner.
I roll my eyes but type back.
Me: Oh, please! I’ve already contemplated throwing an empty shot glass at his head.
Brad: Contemplated? You should have done it. Honestly, as your best friend, I must say if you thought you were better than that, you’re not.
Me: I’m offended. I type back with a smile.
Brad: Oh, now you’re just lying.
I type out Wish you would have come with me but then delete it. That makes me sound needy. And well, it also makes it sound like we’re a couple and we’re not. We never have been.
Placing my elbows on the bar, I place my chin in my hands and let out a sigh. I close my eyes and try to tune out the drunks and the loud music from a DJ that is set up on a stage a little ways down. I focus on the ocean behind me and step out of my flip-flops to feel the sand beneath my feet until the dinging of my phone interrupts it.
Brad: I do have the worst case of blue balls, though. Thanks for that, by the way.
I burst out laughing as I stare down at it.
“Hey, that’s nothing to laugh about.”
I snap my head up to look into a set of dark brown eyes and ask, “Didn’t your mother tell you it’s rude to read over someone’s shoulder?” Snatching my phone off the bar.
He points down at it now in my hand. “Didn’t your mother tell you to finish things that you start?” Prick! “Go and take care him,” he orders with a laugh as if he thinks he’s funny.
Is this guy for real? “He has two hands,” I state. That’s probably the only way a douche like this gets off anyway. He has a wife beater on that looks like he found at Baby Gap. I mean can’t he afford an adult shirt? His dark hair is slicked back and he has a cigarette tucked behind his ear. He has that whole bad boy look going on but not in a hot I wanna jump your bones kind of way.
“Cold.” He continues to chuckle shaking his head. “So cold. Now, I know why the poor guy has blue balls.”
I turn to fully face him and his brown eyes look into mine. “Women can do more than lay on their backs or fall to their knees when a man decides he wants to get laid,” I say as a matter-of-fact.
He smirks. “Is that what you do when you get wet?”
My mouth falls open. The audacity. “Excuse me?” I snap.
“You take care of it yourself? I highly doubt it.” He looks me up and down and I am thankful that I have a tank top and jean shorts over my bikini. “Let me guess”—he places a finger on his chin as he looks up in thought—“you gave the poor bastard a piece and then when he came back for seconds, you left him hanging,” he says as if he knows what Bradley and I do. “Was it not up to your standards?” he asks blatantly. I go to open my mouth, but he continues. “Was he not the biggest you’ve ever had?” I stare at him in amazement. What kind of idiot asks someone these types of questions? I only have one answer—Conner. This guy could be Conner’s twin. I hate this guy already. “Maybe he doesn’t like how small your tits are.” He gestures to my chest.
“You son of a bitch!” I yell. He does that stupid little smirk again, reaching out I shove him.
“Bitch!” he sneers as his arms swing in the air while he tries to keep his balance. The guy is obviously drunk.
He manages to stay on his feet and he takes a step to me. I push my chest into his and look up at him. I’m not afraid of anyone, even if he is a drunk ass pumped up on steroids. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that!” I shout. “Just who the hell do you think you are?” I demand.
He places his hands on my shoulders as I go to lift my knee hitting him in the nuts when a hand cuts between us, and I’m shoved backward. “Whoa,” a man says as his body follows suit.
“What the hell?” I ask as I shove my finger into the muscular back. “Are all you Floridians this rude?” I demand. With a huff, I place my hand on my hips and stare up at the back of the man who rudely interrupted the crazy conversation I was having with a complete stranger. “Unbelievable,” I mutter to myself as I look up and see his black baseball cap he’s wearing backward. It’s worn on the ends of the bill, making the black look more of a dark gray color.
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