“Wren and Brin? How dorky is it to have rhyming names?” I ask incredulously.
I thought that would be obvious.
Dane growls for some weird reason, and Tag turns his head to snicker. Oh. Shit. Rain and Dane. Oops.
“My bad,” I mutter as Dane walks off.
And we were just starting to make progress. Oh well.
Brin and Wren walk up the steps together, and I notice her beer is low. It’s just low enough for this little bottle of red to do some damage.
I glance down, weighing my options, and shrug. Fuck it.
***
BRIN
Wren is sweet, but he seems so distracted. I feel like I’m boring him to death, and every time I think he’s telling a joke, I try to laugh. But I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. I haven’t tried dating since high school.
This was so stupid.
“You need a shot,” Rye says from behind me, grinning while giving me a wink.
He’s embarrassing the hell out of me right now. Knowing he’s told everyone here about our war—mostly Wren—is mortifying. Wren probably thinks I’m a two-year-old.
Though liquor is the enemy, a shot would be perfect right now.
“Thanks,” I murmur with a tight smile, growing more nervous by the second.
Wren is texting someone. Again. That’s what he’s done for most of the time we’ve been out here. The walk on the beach consisted of him texting, or cursing under his breath, or apologizing for ignoring me.
I’ve never felt so uncomfortable.
Rye takes my beer as I absently grab a lime wedge and stare at the shot, trying to gather courage. Then I chug it down, suck on the lime, and reach for my beer. He hands it to me promptly while grinning. I’m sure my face is screwed up in disgust. That was nowhere nearly as good as the shots at Silk.
“Thanks,” I say, sucking in a breath as I finish drinking the rest of my beer, and Rye covers his mouth with his hand as he shakes with suppressed laughter.
Surely my face wasn’t that distorted.
When I turn back to Wren, he’s putting his phone away and apologizing for the hundredth time tonight.
“It’s fine,” I say with my same, fake smile, but his eyes widen in horror as he stares at my mouth.
“What the hell?” he asks through a strangled cough.
I frown, and then wipe my mouth. When red appears on my fingertips, I gasp, worried about where the hell I might be bleeding from. But when I hear the roaring laughter coming from my asshole neighbor, I realize that dick is behind this.
“We called a truce!” I screech, which only clues Wren in, and he joins in on the laughter.
Rye stumbles backwards when I dive for him, and he narrowly dodges my foot that is aimed at his crotch. Bastard!
“So much better,” he says through his snickering, even though that makes no sense to me.
I chase him around the pool, fighting back my grin when he grabs Ash and uses her as a barrier between us.
“Oh hell no!” she says, even though her smile is growing. “I so don’t want in the middle of you two.”
I glare at him, trying to grab at him, but he keeps the brunette beauty between us, even as she tries uselessly to escape.