'90s Playlist (Romance Rewind #1)

by Anthology

  “Two for jet skiing,” I said to the guy in the booth. He had an insane handlebar mustache and enough hair on his arms to pass for sleeves.

  The guy handed me a clipboard with paperwork to fill out.

  As I scribbled down information, Em said, “Thanks again for asking me.” She toed at the sand with her sandals.

  I pushed the papers back over the counter and shoved my shaky hands in the pockets of my swim trunks. “Of course. What are friends for?” Pansy liar. The more I tried to hammer in the point, the less I believed it.

  “One or two jet skis?” The guy asked.

  The friendly thing to do would be to pay for two. But then again, the friendly part of me wasn’t the one who asked her on this excursion. And I wasn’t passing up this opportunity to be close to her for an actual legitimate reason. At least that sentiment would help me sleep better at night. Even if we did hook up, that wouldn’t mean we had to get attached. Drew had nothing to worry about, because her heart would be intact and I wouldn’t string her along. A few days to get everything out of my system, zero risk. Well, almost no risk. There was a chance I’d ruin a twenty year friendship.

  Was a few days of having fun worth that?

  I glanced down at Em, her curls blowing in the breeze. The cut of her bikini top revealed a smattering of freckles along the valley between her breasts and I desperately wanted to know if any lay under the concealment of the top. A gust carried her shampoo under my nose and I couldn’t resist taking a deep inhale. There wasn’t one specific quality that made her irresistible. No, everything about Em was my kryptonite. “One jet ski,” I said.

  Yep, I’d turned into a selfish bastard.

  She looked up at me through those long lashes, skepticism clear in her eyes. Of course she wondered why I was changing my tune since I’d just rejected her last night. My emotions were like a friggin’ pendulum, something that only Em could elicit from me.

  I smiled down at her, hoping to convey the message loud and clear that I was interested. When she grinned in response, the tightness in my chest eased a bit.

  The guy nodded and handed us two life jackets and sent us to the shore where an instructor stood next to a row of jet skis.

  He instructed us on how to start, stop, and change the speed of the jet ski and sent us on our way.

  “Have you ever done this?” she asked as we waded through the warm water and climbed up onto the seat.

  Our hands were inches apart as we maneuvered the watercraft, and an overwhelming need to place my palm over hers hit like a thirty foot tidal wave.

  I shook my head and focused on her question. “A few times.” My parents took me while we were on vacation in Florida in high school, but that was about the extent of my jet ski skills. “Sit up front and I’ll steer.”

  She nodded and scooted closer to the steering control. I hopped up and positioned myself closer to her, the inside of my legs pressed against hers, our only true barrier was the bulky life vests. The jet ski roared to life as I turned the key in the ignition, and as soon as I wrung my hand on the throttle, we rocketed toward the deep expanse of the Gulf.

  We sped over the choppy waves, Em laughing, her hair flying all around her. She looked like a goddamn angel with the sun in her hair, so happy and free. This was the Emily that I fell in love with years ago. The one who spoke her mind, told corny jokes, and always beat me in a Warhead eating contests.

  A few gulls swooped across the surface in front of us and Em turned around and smiled at me. And that was when I knew I was in trouble. That I most definitely couldn’t be just friends anymore.

  Four hours later, I held the neck of my beer bottle and swilled the lukewarm Corona I’d been nursing for half an hour, staring out at the sunset through the window in the Stardust Lounge.

  “Told you chicks dig buying guys fruity drinks.” Drew had been gloating for the past day about how he’d managed to get someone to buy him a drink before Melissa did, and even made her cross off his drink spot on the bingo sheet.

  She stuck out her tongue and scowled, but seconds later was laughing at some cheesy joke he said. She had it bad for the dude. Hell, Jerry Seinfeld didn’t even get this many laughs for his standup. I gave it less than a day before the two hooked up.

  Em sat across the table with her chin in hand, staring out at the Gulf, lost in thought. She’d been quiet after jet skiing and disappeared with Melissa to do some shopping at the waterfront stores. I’d tried to work up the courage to tell her how I felt, but each time I chickened out and commented on the weather or upcoming performances. If I was going to tell her, I needed liquid courage first, and lots of it. And also an opportunity without Drew or Melissa being front and center.

  “Anyone want shots?” I asked.

  Everyone immediately chimed in with a resounding yes.

  I came back to the table a few minutes later, carrying a tray of Jose. I knocked back two tequila shots and a warmth washed over me, a nice buzz to cloud my mind. By the third one, all reservations melted away.

  “Looking to regret that tequila?” Drew nudged me.

  “This is nothing. Remember spring break sophomore year? I was at least eight shots deep and still managed to dock our houseboat at Shasta.”

  Drew guffawed. “Dude. You practically ping-ponged your way into the boat slip.”

  I gave a dismissive wave, but inwardly cringed because hell if I’d ever be stupid enough to boat under the influence again. “Minor technicality.”

  “We’ll see if you’re singing the same tune in the morning. Slow down, it’s only nine.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” But I pushed back the shot and settled for a sip of beer instead. He was right. If I wanted to make it through this trip, I needed to pace myself. I still had two more days and didn’t want to waste any by paying homage to the porcelain god.

  The music suddenly cut out and three dings sounded from the speakers. “Hellooooo Spring Breakers. It’s Captain Mike and I hope you’re enjoying the cruise so far. Ready to kick off our second night?”

  People screamed in response, a deafening roar in the cavernous room.

  “I can hear you all from the control center. Good to know you’re up for a good time. Let’s keep it safe, and make a lot of good memories.”

  The three chimes dinged again, signifying the conclusion of his announcement.

  Captain Mike may have sounded like a cheesy tour guide, but he had one thing right—this trip was about making memories. I stared at the shot of tequila in front of me and then at Em. Maybe a few more ounces of liquid courage was needed for tonight.

  I grabbed the shot glass and knocked back the tequila. Damn straight, I was going to do something.

  Chapter 5

  Emily

  “Drunk-crier at your ten o’clock!” Melissa shouted.

  We all turned to Drew’s left where a girl in a gold bikini was bawling, streaks of black running down her face as her two friends consoled her.

  Drew huffed out a petulant sigh. “Dammit. Did you master Where’s Waldo when you were a kid, or something?”

  “Carmen Sandiego.” Melissa shook her head and tsked as she watched Drunk-Crier. “Should have invested in waterproof mascara.”

  “You are ice cold.” I elbowed her.

  “I just state the obvious.” She winked. After taking a few sips of her margarita, she sat back in her chair, swilling her straw around the frosted glass. “You guys ready for graduation?” Berkeley got out a whole month before Stanford did this year, which meant that while I was settling down in New York, Chase and Drew would still be studying for finals.

  “Not really. Just going back to Santa Cruz to work for my dad, so nothing much will change. I’d rather live with Chase and stay another four years in college.” Drew majored in business and Dad had offered him to be a partner in his tree farm business once he graduated. We’d always had to work at the tree farm during the holidays, sipping hot cocoa while shivering in the cold, listening to Christmas music and watching families
pick out their tree. I didn’t mind it, but Drew was less than enthusiastic to be taking part in the family business.

  “I don’t think I can go four more years with your snoring, dude.” Chase shook his head and smiled.

  “Must be a twin thing.” Melissa added.

  I choked on a sip of sangria and sent Melissa a death glare. I so did not snore. But even if I did, I really didn’t want that broadcasted to anyone at this table. The heat of an inevitable flush crept up my neck and I wrung my hands together. Scratch taking it slow the second night, I needed more alcohol in my system. A lot more. “On that note, I’m going to get another sangria. Anyone want anything?”

  Drew and Melissa both shook their head.

  Chase pushed back from the table abruptly and said, “I’ll go with you.”

  I worked at keeping my features impassive. This was no big deal. Chase just wanted another drink, just using this opportunity to get one. No. Big. Deal. He’d already turned me down once, so it’s not like I had to worry about actually impressing him now, since, you know, he wasn’t interested. Things had gone back to normal once we jet skied earlier today. “Cool.” My voice pitched at the end of the word, betraying my cool façade.

  Chase met me around the other side of the table and we made our way toward the tiki-themed bar on the far wall of the lounge.

  As we waited for the bartender, who was slammed with other people ordering drinks, we sidled up to a portion with two empty stools. I leaned against the bar top, the cool metal refreshing against my heated skin.

  He gave me a quick once-over and a small smile formed, both dimples making an appearance. “Your friend is pretty intense.”

  “She takes games a little too seriously sometimes. This one time we played MASH and she got insanely jealous that I ended up with Jonathan Taylor Thomas and she had eight kids with Steve Urkel.”

  His lips twitched in amusement. “Then let’s beat her.”

  “That would be amazing.” I pulled out my sheet. “Which one should we cross off next?”

  His gaze drifted from the paper to my eyes, his eyes crinkling in the corners as a smile spread on his face. “How about a body shot?” He bumped his elbow against mine and my skin tingled from the contact. I needed to get it together. An elbow touch, for Christ sake. I was seriously on the way to nun-dom if this was enough to get my heart rate tripling in pace.

  “Okay.” I nodded.

  “So am I doing you or are you doing me?” He winced as soon as that came out of his mouth and shoved a hand through his hair.

  I giggled. “Awk-ward.” I loved that he was still the same old dorky Chase, the one that always put a smile on my face.

  “Yeah, that didn’t come out right. Let me try that one again.” He shook his shoulders out and cleared his throat. His voice dropped two octaves when he asked, “Who’s doing the shot?”

  A shiver ran down my spine. Wow, that deep bravado could have asked me to do the Macarena on the Ledo Deck, naked, and I would have obliged. “How about since you’re all about the tequila tonight, you can do the shot.”

  “Sounds good to me.” He leaned his elbows against the bar and looked over at me, his lower lashes fanning across the top of his cheeks. “You know, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look a lot different.”

  I swallowed back a laugh. Did he not realize he was the one who had pretty much done the male equivalent of She’s All That? Although I guessed my change of wardrobe was pretty drastic, too. I tugged at my bandeau top, trying to cover the span of skin between the shirt and my high waist shorts. “In a good way?”

  “Definitely good. You’re wearing your hair down.” He gently tugged on one of my curls and said, “You should do it more often.” He cleared his throat and quickly pulled his hand back, shoving it in his pocket, the pink on his cheeks deepening. “I mean, uh, it looks nice.”

  Heat flamed up my cheeks. Holy crap. Was Chase flirting with me? And he’d touched my hair. No, I had to be imagining it. Definitely could be the two sangrias talking. He’d made it clear earlier that nothing was going to happen. I pulled my watermelon Lipsmackers out of my shorts pocket and applied a liberal amount to my lips, the action smoothing out my frayed nerves a bit.

  He glanced at my mouth and smiled. Obviously he didn’t know what effect those dimples, bright blue eyes, and sandy-blond hair had on girls. How had I not noticed how hot he was before this trip?

  I toed my flip flop against the dark green carpet, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “Thanks.” Ugh. What was wrong with me that I suddenly couldn’t take a complement?

  Three loud dings sounded overhead and the music cut out, a wonderful reprieve from the awkwardness that was going on between me and Chase.

  “Don’t forget about our dance and karaoke that is about to start on the Starlight Deck. Warm up your singing voices and prepare for an awesome battle of the voices.”

  As the message cut out, everyone around the bar cheered loudly and guzzled down their drinks.

  I glanced out on the now-empty wooden dance floor where a few crew members were setting up a microphone and a binder, which I assumed had song choices.

  “I love karaoke night,” said Chase.

  I worked at keeping the surprise out of my response. “Really?” I wouldn’t have pegged Chase to be the karaoke type. More like the stage crew in the background—always part of the show, but never the lead. Maybe there was a lot I didn’t know about him, that I’d missed out on since we’d been apart for college. And the thing that scared me most? I wanted to know these things, more than I’d previously realized. A year could change a lot of things, including my feelings for him.

  “Yeah. There’s a bar near campus that does it every Tuesday. A couple guys from my fraternity always sing Journey songs, and this one chick sings Britney songs and pinches her nose just right to get the nasally effect.”

  I giggled. “Do you sing?”

  “Hell yeah. After a few beers, of course. Have you tried it?”

  “No.” I stared out at the stage, wondering if I could ever muster up the courage to actually scribble my name on that sign-up sheet.

  I may not have been the been the best singer—really the only people who heard me were my parents when I lived at home and Melissa—but this was my final spring break and maybe I should give making an ass out of myself in public a shot. Technically, karaoke counted as an event on the bingo sheet, so I could use that excuse to cross it off my list.

  I looked up at him. “Going to sing a Christina song?”

  He raised his brow. “Spice Girls are more my thing.” Then he gyrated his hips and his voice pitched into an ear-splitting falsetto as he busted out, “Tell me what you want, what you really, really want.”

  I cackled and bumped him with my hip. It was so easy to joke around with him and I found myself slipping back into our rhythm that we’d honed for years. “I’ll tell you what I want…is for you to stop.” I stuck out my tongue.

  He gave me that lazy smile, the one where the dimples were almost making an appearance, and my brain downgraded to the processing rate of the AOL login. I could practically hear the dial tone echoing in my head. “Fine, I’ll leave my singing skills for the patrons in California. They appreciate my high notes,” he said.

  The bartender finally made his way down to where Chase and I stood and asked us our drink order.

  He turned to me. “Want another sangria?”

  I nodded. Even though my mind was a little fuzzy from the last two, I wanted to keep a nice buzz going to avoid sliding back into a weird funk with Chase. “Yes, please.”

  “One shot of tequila for a body shot, a Corona, and a sangria, please.” The bartender came back a couple minutes later and slid our drinks across the marble top.

  I tried to hand the bartender my room card, but Chase gently pushed my card back at me and slid the bartender his instead. He cleared a space on the bar, getting ready for me to lie down across it.

  “I can handle this. My treat.” And th
ere was the smile again, this time the dimples displayed in full viewing pleasure. I mean, how could I say no when he did that?

  I bit my lip and looked down at my drink. Friends bought each other drinks, right? “Thanks.” Plus, everyone in the group would be paying for my drink bill if I won.

  He jutted his chin toward the bar top. “You know how to do a body shot?”

  I nodded. I’d done a few at frat parties, so I knew the drill. A few guys high-fived Chase as I lay down across the cold marble. The bartender brandished a bottle of Jose and salt. As I shifted to get comfortable, he shook a trail of salt from my navel to my neck and then handed me a lime. Then he drizzled tequila on my thigh and didn’t stop until he reached the space just under my jawline. I placed the lime wedge in my mouth and my pulse thrummed in my ears as I waited for Chase to begin. More whoops sounded from the gathering crowd around us.

  Maybe it was the audience, or the fact that the sound had amplified in the past minute or so, but I suddenly felt exposed, everything bared for the world to see. Rightfully so, because in fact, I was sprawled across a bar top with tequila splattered on me. I was one nip slip away from Girls Gone Wild eligibility.

  Chase climbed up on the bar and tossed his disposable camera at someone standing near us. Heat flickered in his gaze as he moved down to my thighs, positioning himself to do the shot.

  The moment his tongue hit the top of my thigh, my toes curled and I knocked my head back against the counter. The warmth of his mouth radiated through me, a slow burn ripping across my skin, increasing in magnitude as he moved up my leg. Cool spots cropped up in the wake of each lick as he shifted over my shorts and continued to work his way up my body. He took his time, zig-zagging across my stomach, lapping up the salt and tequila. Every inch of my body tingled as he reached my neck. He pulled back and looked into my eyes, searching, and then gently took the lime from my mouth with his teeth.

  Who was this guy and what had he done with Chase? I lay there for a few seconds, panting, catching my breath. Because what in holy hell was that? That was not a friend thing. Or if it was, I’d been friending incorrectly for the past twenty-two years of my life. And even though I’d had sex dozens of times, that was by far the most intimate thing I’d ever had done to me.