by Piper Rayne
“You okay?” Colton asks after he finishes his debate with Ray. I don’t even want to know what they were talking about. Colton gives him too much benefit of the doubt.
I nod. “Better now,” I say with a little sigh after.
Then without really thinking about it first, like I’ve done a million times before, I let my head fall onto his shoulder. Even though I can’t see his face, I feel his smile radiating through his whole body, and it’s easy just to snuggle into the warmth of it.
“Oh my fucking god,” I spit out when Claire and Tom finally come back.
To be honest, I’d sort of forgotten they ditched us for a while. Or, well, I didn’t forget that they were gone, just for how long.
Pointing to Claire’s very obvious messed-up hair, and then to Tom’s misbuttoned shirt, I don’t even have to say anything else.
“When the mood strikes,” Claire says while shrugging just one shoulder, “the mood really strikes.” Then she laughs her ass off. And so do most of us around the table.
“I think this calls for another round,” Colton says waving his hand in the air as our server comes close by. Even though I just ordered one, so we’ll get two. But that sounds okay too.
When his hand comes down it moves to my knee, where he starts rubbing circles with his thumb.
That and the drinks make for an entirely new mood. Before I know it, my whole body is relaxed, leaning into him. So different from worrying about Ray or stressing over stupid shit. It feels so nice to just unwind, to let him hold me up. Plus, it’s the only way I can sit up straight after a few more margaritas. Which I do have. A few.
Plus, every time I lean away to get into some weird tangent with Charli or Claire, Colton finds a reason to pull me back.
“Do you want another, Ev?”
“Oh my god, look over there at that couple. He’s, like, twice her age.”
“Remember that time we…”
Not that I mind. It’s a great night, with great company and conversation. Plus, this tequila is tasting better and better. And so are the French fries I keep stealing off Colton’s plate.
“Would anyone share another appetizer if I ordered it?” I ask.
“Oh—yes,” he says to me. But I see the spark in his eye at the same time, so I wait for what’s coming next. “Also, speaking of would… Let’s play.”
Knew it.
“Play what?” Ray asks.
“‘Would you rather,’” Colton replies, way more kindly than I would right now, like it isn’t the most obvious answer in the world.
“Love it,” I say. Because it’s our thing. And I always love it.
“That’s your and Em’s thing,” Claire says with a pout.
“You can’t feel left out when he’s in the middle of asking you to play with us,” I say, which earns me a glare before her inevitable shrug.
“Would you rather live in a paradise like this but have a job that you hate for the nine-to-five days of the week? Or live in bumfuck, nowhere Alaska but have an amazing job you love doing and that pays more than enough to only work half time or less?” Colton asks.
He sits back after finishing with a smug grin settling on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest.
He’d let go of my hand a while ago, but in the moment that I watch his hands help form the satisfied crisscross he’s got going on, I miss them with a jolt. But at least I recover quickly, bouncing with excitement when I do.
“Me. Me. I want to answer first,” I say.
I hate when we play in a big group and I don’t get to go first, because then my answers are influenced by everyone. Not that they won’t be no matter the order I go in. It’s sort of amazing to hear other thought processes and have my opinion shaped and changed—but I want the untainted version first. Unadulterated me. Warts and all.
I just like to know before I change for the better.
“The floor is yours, Ev,” he says with a nod.
“I can make a paradise anywhere. If I have a job I love with tons of free time and more money than I need—I can sure as fuck make Alaska work for me. Besides, I’d have enough time to snag me the perfect person to snuggle up and help keep me warm.” Somehow it all comes out in a rush, hopefully without too many slurred words.
“Perfectly said, beautiful,” Colton says. “I couldn’t think of a better answer.” As he looks at me, like he’s trying to read the thought process behind what I said—every step I took to get to it, and maybe even the experiences that shaped it—everyone else starts to answer.
“Here. I could quit the job I hate and find something better,” Ray says.
“Booooooo,” Tom yells at him.
“That’s not how the game works,” Colton says, backing Tom up. Except…except his eyes still haven’t left mine.
And I don’t hear the rest of the answers that go around the table. I can’t even get a sense of how many people make up each team, or if there are even teams at all.
Because the way Colton’s looking at me, after his compliment, after agreeing with me, is a word I can’t think of that means “beyond distracting.” Maybe I don’t know one that’s good enough, that fits.
There’s something in his eyes, in the way he’s looking at me. There’s some kind of meaning that I can’t quite piece together. And the curve of his smile is different too.
All of it together, combined like ingredients in a chemistry experiment, creates a spark. Something I don’t think has ever happened before. And maybe it’s the margaritas, or maybe it’s the pure bliss of being on vacation with friends who I love more than life.
But maybe not.
Because whatever the feeling is, whatever’s happening behind my belly button makes me go lightheaded, too, for a moment. And before I make a huge fool of myself and fall out of the chair, I have to lean into him to catch my balance. But then the rush hits harder, even though I’m braced up on Colton. The spots where we’re connected start to tingle, which seems like something that only happens in movies or books. Who really feels a damn spark or heat when they touch someone?
But, fuck me, if that’s not exactly what I’m feeling.
And even though I lean into it for a moment more, soaking in whatever’s happening, in the next second, I move away fast. And the need to shake my head, hard back and forth, overwhelms me.
After I do, I feel like it’s just a little easier to think straight.
Emotional whiplash will do that.
Apparently.
But while everyone chats around me and Colton’s eyes continually flick to me for little groups of seconds, the grin won’t leave my damn face.
“I’ve got another,” I interrupt, having no idea what was being said before I did. But I don’t care either; I need this.
“Would you rather be with the love of your life for fifty years at least, but have to do it long distance half of the time, or have them for only a few years and get to spend every moment together?” I ask the group and Colton’s arm winds around my shoulders again. I resist looking over to him.
I’m afraid of whatever will surprise me next.
8
“You’ve gotta give them harder ones,” Colton says as he leans his head toward mine, before anyone answers me.
Before I can stop myself, that stupid smile on my lips widens.
At the same time, I start to spin a little too, my vision off. All of the tequila catching up with me, even more than before. With that liquid encouragement, I let my temple find his for just a moment. And the heat generated between his skin and mine is…concerning.
So I adjust, slowly and subtly, to drop my head back onto his shoulder.
Not that he minds either option—I don’t think. Not based on the firm grip he has on my shoulder as he rubs it.
“Wait, I’ve got one more,” I shout, just as Ray is about to give some sort of high-and-mighty answer, I’m sure. He wrinkles his nose at me, and I just pretend not to notice as I smile with enthusiasm at my brilliant idea.
&
nbsp; The one I’ve already forgotten.
Oh, shit.
So I think, quickly, replacing something romantic with something I can come up with on the spot.
“Would you rather give the best head ever, or receive the best head ever? Except the opposite of what you choose is basically rubbish,” I ask.
Charli almost spits out some of her drink for the second time on this trip as I bite my bottom lip to keep from accidentally copying her.
“I already know your answer,” Colton says as he looks to me for just a moment and then around at everyone else.
“WAIT,” Claire shouts. “What now?” She’s coughing on whatever she’d had in her mouth before it came tumbling out and back onto her plate. Girl should not eat or drink around any of us apparently.
At least she’s not choking.
“Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, ya horn dog,” Colton says with a snort.
I can feel my chest getting red, like sunburn red. Because…I’m not even totally sure why. But because of a lot of things.
“I asked her the same one the other night. She’s just reusing a fantastic question—if I do say so myself,” Colton says as his free hand, the one too far from me, to pat himself on the back. Literally.
“You are so full of yourself.” Claire shakes her head as she says it. “But, while that’s the fucking truth, it is also a good one,” she admits.
“Get,” Charli says before anyone else can answer.
And the look on Ray’s face is priceless, as he curls his lip and narrows an eye.
“But I want both,” Claire chimes in.
“Good thing you already have it that way,” Tom adds with a nudge to her.
“I regret this question very much at the moment,” I say, followed by an exaggerated gagging sound. “No more images of you all giving and receiving please. All I see are awkward ‘o’ faces. So if you don’t stop right now, I’m going to make you regret it when I start vomiting full-length noodles all over the table.”
“Okay, okay,” Tom says, putting his hands up. “I think we need to discuss when we’re going to do this again. This vacation is too amazing not to repeat. I say we make it a tradition.” His voice gets a little louder toward the end, marking the increase of his enthusiasm.
I nod, on board, but not really in the mood to contribute anymore.
And apparently, I’m not the only one as Colton moves his hand from around my shoulders and to my knee that’s touching his. He leans back, watching instead of engaging.
I don’t know if it’s the heat of the island breeze, or the booze in my system, or something else entirely, but I can’t cool down from before. I feel my cheeks and ears pink up as my armpits start to sweat. Not that this is why I chose a spaghetti-strap dress, but now it seems like the smartest decision I made all evening. Because when Colton’s fingers move to interlace between mine, somehow my temperature goes up yet another couple degrees.
Maybe it’s heat stroke.
Maybe I’m dying.
“Ev,” Colton whispers as his head tilts just enough for me to see the corner of his mouth. Of his lips. That I can’t stop staring at. “Ev,” he tries again.
“Hmmm?” That’s the best I can do. Seriously.
What is wrong with me?
“I meant to tell you earlier, and I absolutely should have,” Colton starts. “No excuse for my behavior.”
“Obviously. Shame on you,” I say with a nuzzle of my shoulder into his side, teasing, even before I have any idea what he’s going to tell me.
Colton goes on like I didn’t say anything, other than his squeezing of my hand. He doesn’t loosen up afterward, just keeps the delicious pressure on me.
“You look drop-dead fucking gorgeous tonight. I mean you always do. Duh. But tonight is in a category all it’s own,” Colton says.
I blink.
Then I blink again.
But no matter how many times I blink, I can’t get the smile to fade off of my lips. Wait…is blinking supposed to help with stubborn grins?
Anyway. The smile—it won’t slip away even when I bite down hard on my lip. So out of desperation I grab my glass with my free hand and take another sip of delicious drink.
“Thank you,” I say in a voice even quieter than his, after I swallow. Because that’s the normal thing to do, to say, even though I almost forgot.
“I vote we go abroad next time,” Colton says, louder, as he turns back to the group’s conversation. “Somewhere like Ireland or Iceland,” he adds. As he finishes, his fingers start to spread apart, like he’s going to let go of my hand, and I panic. Gripping tighter to his hand, I press the full length of my side into his. If I’m snuggled in, and he’s stuck here with me, then he can keep me from having to contribute anymore. I just want to keep listening and take everything in.
Charli looks at me as I set down my drink, empty. But I can’t figure out what she’s trying to tell me with her eyes. I’m not sure I’d want to hear the words if it was out loud anyway. It’s too meaningful, sparking some anxiety.
Looking away, I’m sure I don’t want to know.
“I still think we should break up for the day tomorrow, so we can all do the things we want. I mean we don’t have to do everything together all the time,” Ray says into the brief, comfortable silence.
“Ugh.” I groan way louder than I would sober, but I also don’t regret it.
The only thing I do regret is the look on Charli’s face. Even though it’s not at my reaction, I don’t think. I hope it’s not.
“Or maybe you can go off on your own, while the rest of us do something you’d find too tedious,” Claire says then, on the heels of my response.
Colton laughs, lightening a mood that could have gone too sour really fast. “That’s my cue,” he says as he stands up. And as he does, I don’t like the feeling that follows in his absence.
Though, it helps a little when he kisses the top of my head.
“Who wants another drink on my way back?” Colton asks the group.
There are a few answers, but I don’t think I need any more at the moment. That’s based on the feeling starting to stir in my chest—it’s similar to the one from behind my bellybutton earlier—but a little stronger. A little sharper.
It’s weird.
And it scares me a little.
But at least I can focus on the tingling in my scalp instead as I watch Colton walk toward the bar.
9
“I’m not tired at all yet. Are you? I’m so awake,” I babble.
“I swear those couples are getting boring in their old age,” Colton responds with a squeeze of my hand. As he pays for our part of the dinner, I notice what a generous tip he leaves just before we walk away.
“They left so early,” I agree. “It’s all that Ray’s fault for leaving first.”
I kind of hate him these days, which is a change, considering he seemed so great with Charli just a couple weeks ago. Though, I guess I of all people should know how fast something can sour.
“They’re probably discussing the pros and cons of geriatric sex and whether they should partake tonight. The risks of broken hips and slipped discs may be worth the warm gliding of gums after dentures are—”
“Oh my god. OH my god. Stop it. Stop it right now,” I shout at him, shoving him in the process. I yell through a smile, though.
“So you’re saying you don’t want to picture grandma and grandpa banging?” he keeps going.
“I swear to fuck, you’re going to regret it if you don’t shut up right now,” I say.
“What will you do to me if I don’t, Ev?” Colton asks, turning to look at me and letting go of my hand. His face is half lit by the restaurant’s strung lamps. In the darker part, it could be my imagination, but I swear I see something hiding. Something mischievous.
“What do you want to do?” I ask instead of answering that very dangerous question, which has me fighting against fits of manic, unreasonable, laughter. And I turn so we’re side by s
ide again, moving farther into the dark and the soft sand.
“How about a walk? A moonlit walk along the beach in paradise?” Colton offers his arm, and I pretend not to see the smirk and side-glance he’s got going on.
But as I reach for him, I fail at judging distance, and I start to tip over. And I already know it’s not in a cute kind-of fall where I’ll catch myself in time with a sweet little hair flip. No this is going to be a move where my dress flies up over my ass and I actually face-plant in the sand, eating it. Possible also peeing myself in embarrassment at the same time.
“Whoa,” Colton says as he somehow gains super speed and stretchy arms to reach over and catch me before I tip much at all. I don’t fall like I expect but only stumble into him.
Into his arm and chest, where I smell his cologne and feel the heat of his body blooming through the fabric of his shirt.
“Okay, maybe I’ve had one too many drinks to make walking a simple task,” I say as I lean back.
Lean back, but don’t let go.
“How about we go back to the room and stay up all night playing games and watching terrible movies,” Colton changes a good plan to an even better one.
“That sounds perfect,” I say when I finally take a step back, looking up to him. “So fucking perfect.” I shake my head hard, a little too hard, and start wobbling again. This time I catch myself before he has to at least.
“Well, let’s sway our way back to the hotel.” Colton’s voice is like a warm, fuzzy blanket as his words wrap around me.
“Colton?” I start, my eyes on the sand.
“Everything?” he counters.
I swallow, readjusting at the last second. “Can we order room service too?” I ask.
“Room service, mini bar, games, and movies. The works. It’ll be just like we’re back in the dorms,” Colton agrees. “Just fancier,” he adds.
“As long as you stop me before I get to the hurling stage. You never were very good at that back then,” I say as Colton puts his arm around my shoulder and starts to steer me in the right direction, toward our hotel.
My arm finds its way around his waist in reaction. I swear the thing has a mind of its own, because I don’t plan it beforehand. At all. But after my fingers grip onto the fabric of his shirt, there are no thoughts about letting go.
