by Sarah Smith
Something hard presses against my ass, sending a grin to my face. He’s really, really enjoying the effects of me grinding on him, it seems.
“Fuck,” he grunts.
Immediately, I stop grinding against him, moving myself just a few inches away. “Getting all worked up?” I shout over the thundering beat.
“A bit,” he mouths, then chuckles. He is adorably flustered.
I turn around to face him, my head still mildly dizzy from quickly downing that gigantic cocktail and the music thundering around us. With my arms wrapped around his neck, we shuffle our feet back and forth in a slow dance. It doesn’t matter that our soundtrack is upbeat or that everyone else around us is jumping and raving. Nothing outside of me and Callum exists right now.
A few minutes pass, and then Callum takes a breath. “All good now. Thanks,” he yells over the music.
I nod and pull him by the hand back to the coconut stand for a refill. We share a few sips, then Callum looks at his phone. “Christ. We danced for nearly an hour.”
It only felt like minutes.
“Is that how you always used to dance?” His eyes bore into me.
I chuckle. “Hell no. When I went out dancing with my friends, there was a lot more jumping and a lot less grinding.”
“Ready to go again?”
I take another sip, which sends me into solidly buzzed territory. “I’m a little tipsy, actually. Any more dancing, and I’ll be on the floor.”
Callum swipes the drink out of my hand before taking a long gulp. He looks in the direction of the beach. I can’t see it from where we’re standing, but every time there’s a break in the music, I can hear the soft crash of the waves. I close my eyes, humming at the soothing sound.
“How about we take a walk? Maybe stop by the beach for a bit?”
“Okay.”
The sound of the ocean churning intensifies as we make our way down the street to Baby Beach. A gust of ocean wind hits my skin, and I smile. When we reach the sand, we take off our masks.
“You know, there’s a spot not far from here in Paia called Secret Beach,” I say. “It’s clothing optional. You could come here and do your naked swimming if you ever get tired of Little Beach.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
I gasp and clutch at him with both hands. “We should go skinny-dipping together now! Wouldn’t that be fun?”
I tug down the straps of my dress, but Callum grabs both of my hands, stopping me. “Not now. You’re drunk. It wouldn’t be safe.”
I make a pouty face up at him, even though I’m not even sure he can see my expression in the darkness. I can barely see his.
“Some other time. Promise,” he says, then pauses. “Baldwin Beach is just down the road. That’s where your dad is, right?”
Just the mention of my dad catches me off guard. But not in a bad way like it would have before. There’s such softness, such reverence in Callum’s tone when he speaks about him. It makes everything inside of me run warm.
“Yes.”
“There’s a million gorgeous beaches here. What made Baldwin his favorite?”
“The color of the water. He said he loved how it looked almost turquoise.”
“Next time you talk to him, tell him it’s my favorite too.”
“I will.”
I wonder if he can hear the smile in my voice. I can hear the smile in his. For a long moment, we say nothing. The ocean and the breeze are the only sounds around us. It’s soothing.
“You seem happy right now, Nikki,” Callum says, his voice a hair louder than the crash of the waves in front of us.
A bout of alcohol-induced dizziness hits, and I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. We fit perfectly in bed, when dancing, when cuddled on the couch, when we’re standing side by side.
“That’s because I am. This moment is just . . .” I trail off, unable to find the right word.
This moment, this night, it is everything. I didn’t know how much I missed going out, socializing, dancing, feeling like a normal twenty-nine-year-old woman.
I close my eyes, enjoying the light buzz running through me. I grip his arm tighter. “Sorry for how tipsy I am. It’s been a while since I’ve drunk this much of the hard stuff.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he says. “I’m having a nice time.”
I shift, pressing my ear against his chest. The shallow breath he takes hits softly against my cheek.
“Spending time with you is my favorite thing to do, Callum. You are my favorite.”
The words just slip out. It sounds almost like relationship talk, and that’s a no-no for us.
“Is that so?” he asks.
I tilt my head up to get a better look at him. My eyes are finally starting to adjust to the dark. Judging by the upward curve of his mouth, he isn’t offended at all by my slipup.
The dizziness eases, making way for that drunken giddiness that eventually accompanies my buzz. “This is so, so nice. Standing here with you. I haven’t done this in forever. You know it’s been almost two years since I’ve gone out dancing?”
“You did mention that.”
“Oh, right.”
He chuckles.
I can’t seem to stop babbling. “I’m glad I did. I’m glad you made us come out tonight. It feels so . . . so . . .”
“Freeing? Good?”
“More than good. Incredible.” Loosening my hold, I run a hand up and down his arm. He lets out the softest moan. “You feel incredible, too, you know that?”
I glance up at him, my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. He peers down at me.
“I just . . . everything about you,” I say. “Being with you is like being home. You feel like home to me. No one has ever made me feel that way. No guy, at least. Well, except for my dad.”
Did I really just say Callum felt like home? Did I really just compare him to my dad? I’ve lost all control over my mouth and my words. What am I even saying anymore?
The dizziness is back, and I clutch tighter to him. I close my eyes, hoping the spinning doesn’t start. If that happens, that means I’ve left pleasantly drunk territory and will definitely start vomiting.
Thankfully, the world doesn’t tilt and spin, but I can’t seem to stop talking. My mouth is a spigot of words, and I’ve torn the knob clean off. “I wish we could do this all the time, Callum. You’re amazing. You’re hot and protective and sweet and hardworking and thoughtful and you like cats and . . .”
Planting my feet into the sand, I look up at him once more. I can’t see his full expression—only his furrowed brow is visible in the darkness. But judging by his silence, I can tell he’s confused and weirded out by everything I’m saying. And even in my drunken state, I know why.
I’ve crossed a boundary. Me gushing over him isn’t casual hookup territory at all. I’m talking like he’s my one and only. I’m blurring the lines, and he doesn’t like it. I don’t like it either. I should know better—I’m the one who set the boundaries.
But this night? This moment? It is a perfect storm of feelings and alcohol and romance and ambiance. I broke the rules and let myself get pseudo love drunk.
Callum clears his throat. “And?” he repeats with an edge to his tone.
I shake my head, letting out a laugh that’s all nerves and pitchy. “Nothing. Sorry. That was the alcohol talking.”
A long silence follows. When he finally speaks, all he says is, “Okay.” Nothing more.
I let out all the air I’ve been holding in a slow, silent hiss. I’m relieved. I don’t want to talk about how I just made a fool of myself in front of Callum because I caught feelings for a split second in a drunken haze.
Staring straight ahead, he bites his lip before speaking again. “Ready to head back to the car?”
“You’re okay to drive?” I ask.
/>
“I only had a few sips. I’m fine.”
We put our masks back on. He takes my hand in his and leads me up the beach to the street. We don’t talk the entire walk to the car or when he starts to drive back to his place.
We both yank off our masks and toss them in the back seat in silent unison. With each mile we cross, I sober up. I need to think fast. I need to fix this rift I just caused between us.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. It was just the alcohol and the mood and the fact that I haven’t been out in forever. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
We hit a stoplight, and he eases on the brakes. He twists his head to me, the look on his face blank. Does he think I’m a stalker now? Is he annoyed that I didn’t just drop it back at the beach? Am I making something out of nothing? I’d give anything to know what’s running through his brain.
“You mean that?” he asks.
“I do. I’m sorry that I gave off the impression that I wanted more. I don’t. I’m happy with the way things are right now.”
That last sentence falls out of my mouth so stilted that I cringe. Drunk me momentarily wanted something more, but sober me knows better. Sober me knows what’s on the line if we ever veer offtrack.
Callum nods. “Right.” The word rolls curtly off his tongue.
When the light turns green, he speeds ahead. In the silence of the drive, I wonder why it’s so hard for me to believe my own words.
Chapter 13
A few days past my drunken slipup, we’re back to normal. The morning after the block party, Callum didn’t mention a word of what I said the night before. I didn’t either. When I found my sriracha and sweet chili sauce bottles missing the next day, I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I stole the container of lemon wedges from the counter of Hungry Chaps food truck during a carefully timed garbage haul, and that was that. Things were back to normal. We dove right back into flirty texts and no-nonsense hookups, and I couldn’t have been more relieved.
I look through the window of my food truck, spotting Callum standing in his own truck’s window. All he gives me is a lift of one eyebrow, but that low-key flirt is more than enough to get me through the rest of the day.
Tonight I’m heading to Callum’s place after my shift. Finn is helping a chef friend with a late-night pop-up in Napili tonight, then camping at Haleakala, so I’m due at Callum’s at 9 p.m. sharp. And it’s doubly good because tomorrow is Easter, which means we’re closed, which also means I don’t have to rush home after fooling around like usual.
Mrs. Tokushige saunters up to the window for her usual lunch order. “Ay, Tiva.” She narrows her eyes at Mom, who’s finishing a malasada. “Do you know how much sugar is in those things? You should know better!”
I let out a laugh. “I think one doughnut is fine, Mrs. Tokushige. You see how well she eats the rest of the day.”
The concerned expression on Mrs. Tokushige’s face eases. “I suppose you’re right. You never can be too healthy at our age, though, Tiva.”
The two exchange a knowing expression. I decide it’s the perfect time to take out the trash to avoid whatever squabble they’re about to get into.
I haul the bag out to the garbage can just as a petite dark-haired beauty saunters up to the Hungry Chaps food truck, right in my line of sight. She slaps both hands on the metal ledge. Callum’s brow jumps, as do his shoulders.
My eyes go wide. She’s all smiles and curves with a deep olive tan and thick black hair that falls all the way to her waist. She’s a whisper above five feet tall, but she’s got the spirit of a giant. It’s obvious in the way she waltzed to the truck and the unflappable eye contact she’s making with Callum. She’s practically bursting at the seams with that effortless, raw confidence stunning women like her seem to have in spades.
In her presence, I suddenly feel like a gawky baby giraffe struggling to stand.
“Hungry Chaps, huh?” She raises her brow at Callum, who’s now frowning. “How clever.”
She strains her neck to read the menu tacked on the side of the truck. But I can tell by the exaggerated arch of her back that it’s a move to display her ample chest, which is barely contained in her black crop top. It complements her microscopic jean cutoffs perfectly, which showcase two perfect slivers of tanned butt cheek.
“I might need your help choosing something. I’m having trouble deciding.” This stunner has the most insincere, whiny drawl I’ve ever heard. I don’t know anything about this woman, but she strikes me as the kind of person who would fake indecisiveness just to get a hot guy like Callum to talk to her.
I swallow, my mouth sour.
Callum studies his notepad. “Fish-and-chips are good. So is the steak pie.”
The moment she leans her head up closer to him, he leans back inside the window of the truck, staring like she’s some mystery science project.
She grins wide. “One pie for me, then.”
He scribbles her order and starts to turn away, but then she reaches up to grab his forearm.
The heat inside me turns bitter. I order it away, but to no avail. I have no right to feel jealous in this moment. Callum isn’t mine. We’re just friends with benefits. And this no-strings-attached arrangement means he can see her—or any other woman he wants. I knew that from the get-go. But to see it play out in front of me throws me completely.
Now the entire inside of my mouth is sour. Every time I swallow, I taste poison.
“Yes?” Callum remains still in her hold. I’m beyond shocked he doesn’t shrug her away. He’s not one to let a stranger grab him out of the blue. But she’s not a typical stranger. She’s sexy and flirty and easy on the eyes.
“I don’t get to hear accents like yours very often,” she says. “Can you say a little more before you go and take care of my pie?”
If I weren’t clenching my jaw so hard, it would be on the ground. That’s some ballsy innuendo. I’m sure this living doll is dying for Callum to do naughty things to her pie.
I’m also guessing that, looking the way she does, she doesn’t normally have to work this hard to get a man’s attention. She’s not letting it faze her though. Callum is indisputably hot. I watch women ogle him all day, every day. But rarely do they saunter up with even a fraction of the gumption she possesses.
The edge of his mouth twitches up. It almost looks like the start of a smile.
“How about, ‘Your food will be ready in ten minutes,’” he says.
Her free hand falls to her bare clavicle, and she audibly swoons. Her other hand remains clamped on his skin. My stomach lurches. I want to vomit.
She narrows her deep brown eyes at Callum, like a puma eyeing an injured deer. She bites her lip, practically moaning.
“Lovely. I’m dying to hear you talk more. After your shift maybe?”
My heart thuds so hard against my chest, I’m certain it’s going to burst out and land on the dirt several feet away from me. Steam is hissing from my ears and my skin is lava. I want to march the ten feet to where this sex kitten stands and pull her gorgeous hair out of her scalp. Because how dare she. Callum is mine and—
I nearly crumple to the ground. He is not mine. He never was and he never will be. This all-consuming possession I feel for him is completely irrational and not one bit okay. He has every right to say yes to her proposition. And I have zero right to feel this way.
That moment of romantic feelings that swooped through me at the Paia block party and the night we spent drinking champagne at his condo should have clued me in. They’re both signs that we need to cool off ASAP.
I spin on my sneakered heel and march back to my truck where Mrs. Tokushige and Mom chat happily about the Easter dinner Mrs. Tokushige is planning. I’m thankful they don’t notice the change in my demeanor. They would definitely ask questions, but I don’t want them to think anything is amiss.
>
I pull out my phone from my pocket, then text Callum.
Hey. Something came up. Can’t meet tonight. Sorry.
I turn it on silent, then resume taking orders and slinging baskets of food. Hopefully, Callum read my text before saying no to that oversexed Tinkerbell. Because now he’s free to take her up on her offer to listen to him talk while she preps her pie for him.
I grit my teeth even harder, wondering if he’ll say yes, all the while praying he says no.
* * *
• • •
“I’m tired, anak. Going to bed.” Mom squeezes me in a hug.
I glance at the clock on the oven. “It’s not even eight thirty.”
She yawns. “I need as much beauty sleep as I can get at my age.”
I wonder if Mrs. Tokushige’s warning about health at their age scared her into an earlier bedtime.
“Be careful if you go out tonight, okay?” she says.
She pats my hand, then heads down the hall to her room. Lemon follows her, scurrying into her bedroom before she shuts the door. I stare at the screen of my laptop propped on the kitchen counter, my eyes burning. Watching funny cat videos on YouTube isn’t what I planned to be doing tonight, but I didn’t feel like doing much else after watching Callum get hit on by Maui Barbie.
I press my lips together, then wince at their dry feel. I’m in need of a ChapStick intervention.
When I pull my purse on my lap to dig some lip balm out, I notice my phone flashing. This is the first time I’ve looked at it since turning it to silent this afternoon. I spot three missed texts and two missed calls, all from Callum. My stomach drops.
CALLUM: I was really looking forward to seeing you. Everything all right? Let me know you’re okay at least?
CALLUM: Can you tell me what’s going on? I haven’t heard from you all day.