It shouldn’t have upset me. He said all the right things, assured me everything was okay, and I knew he was doing it for us. He wanted a job in the same city where I would go to school so we wouldn’t have to be apart any longer.
But he was willing to sacrifice being with me to do it.
And I hate that fact.
I hate that he didn’t say no to Chandler, that he didn’t say he could find a different job. As selfish as it sounds, because I know Simmons is an amazing company he’d be lucky to work for, I just don’t want to have to share him.
Not even like this.
Perhaps what’s driven me past sad to angry is how he hasn’t called since then, nor has he been attentive over texts. Sure, I’m with my girls and want to be present to celebrate Ashlei, but when my texts go unanswered for hours only to get a sorry, it’s really busy over here, but I miss you so much and I think I’ve got this job in the bag!
Well…
It just hurts.
And maybe it’s the alcohol swimming in my body, the music thumping through my soul, and the hopeless romantic still swooning after what Kip did — but I’m sad and lonely and pissed off.
The more the night goes on, the more I fear that may be the most dangerous combination of emotions.
“I want another shot,” I tell Ashlei, and I don’t wait for her before I’m making a beeline through the crowd, back to the stairs that exit the pool.
She chases after me, catching my elbow just as I hit the bar.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I shrug her off. “I’m fine. You want one?”
Ashlei frowns. “No. And I don’t want you to take one, either.”
“Come on, Lei. Loosen up! This is your bachelorette party and I feel like you’ve been the most tame of all of us.”
Lei frowns, and then her eyes are scanning the crowd.
I have no doubt she’s looking for Erin, or Jess, or both of them for backup, so I make my move before she can stop me.
“Two tequila shots,” I tell the same bartender who has been helping me all night, and he smiles, shaking his head before he pours them up.
“Be careful, señorita,” he warns.
I wink at him, taking the shots and fully preparing to take both, but then a warm hand wraps around me from behind.
“Looks like you could use some help with one of those.”
The voice is deep and seductive, the words whispered into the shell of my ear as I’m pulled against a rock-hard body. For a moment, I let myself imagine it’s Adam, that he’s come to apologize, to tell me he hated being away from me so badly he couldn’t stand another minute apart, to dance with his girl and take her back to his room and…
I sway my hips against the stranger in time with the music, letting my head drop back against his chest. I feel his lips smirk against my neck as his hands find my waist, and he moves with me, taking the weight of me as the alcohol sets in even more.
I’m dizzy, the world spinning, my legs barely holding me up anymore. But it feels so good to be touched, to be held, to have warm arms wrapped around me and warm breath touching my skin.
The stranger trails his hand down my arm, grabbing one of the shots from me before he carefully, slowly spins me around to face him. Or maybe he spun me quickly and I was just moving in slow motion, because some of my shot sloshes out of the glass, and he laughs, steadying me with a, “Whoa, there.”
I smile, peering through the drunken haze to study his face.
He’s absolutely gorgeous.
His dark blond hair is wet from the pool, sticking up this way and that, his skin a little red from being in the sun. He’s got a goofy, charming sort of smile, a broad jaw, a little dent in his nose like he maybe got into a fight once and took a blow he never recovered from.
He’s still holding my hip with one hand, his other wrapped around the shot glass, and he clinks it to mine before throwing his back.
I know I shouldn’t do it.
I know I’m well past my limit.
But I throw mine back, anyway, this time grimacing and fighting down the roil of my stomach that immediately comes once I’ve swallowed.
The guy smirks at me, taking both our empty glasses and setting them on the counter.
Then his hands are on my hips again.
And his eyes are searching mine.
And I press up on my toes, launch myself into his arms, wrap my hands around his neck…
And kiss him.
He groans, sliding his hands around my hips to palm my ass and pull me more into him as I thread my hands through his hair. He smells like sunscreen and chlorine and tequila, his lips foreign, not moving the way they should with mine, his hands too aggressive, his hair not the right texture.