6. Matt
6
MATT
F or three days, I’ve been playing nice. For three days, I’ve tried not to notice her the second she walks into a space. With all the swimming and tanning, I’ve spent three days hiding my erection each time her bikini clad body appeared in my line of vision.
And what a body it is. I remember the feel of her, but I never got to see her in all her glory. Her pretty tits are as gorgeous and luscious as I remember, but this is the first time I’ve seen her slim waist and full hips. It’s the first time I’ve seen her fit ass in proper lighting and the full length of her toned, long legs. Her olive skin grows tanner by the day, soaking up every ray of sunshine.
It makes sense the sun favors her, too. That the sun is drawn to her, just like everyone else is.
Other than the first day when she caught me working out, she acts unbothered by me. She’s polite, nice even, but it’s such a contrast to how I know her, it drives me mad. I want to see the spark in her eyes again, whether it’s from anger or passion. Anything’s better than the indifference she’s currently showing me.
It’s the day of the bachelor and bachelorette parties. We’re on the island of Pag, known for its party scene. During our thorough research, Natalie and I divided the clubs and bars we can each visit, so we don’t risk running into each other. It’s still a small place.
It’s basically a big beach with a bunch of clubs, but we’re hoping to stay separated throughout the night. I wouldn’t mind merging the two parties, but honestly, having a break from my attraction to Natalie will be a relief.
Connor, Noah, and I start the night in a praised restaurant where we arranged a selection of steak to try out.
“To tonight!” Noah toasts. His white shirt contrasts his dark brown skin and has a few top buttons undone.
“To Rina and Connor!” I add.
“To good friends!” is Connor’s contribution before we each take a sip of our whiskeys.
“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re getting married,” Noah says. “I always thought this one,” he points a thumb at me, “would be the first.”
“Yeah, I think all our bets would be on Mr. Husband over here.” Connor snorts, his dark eyes lighting up with humor.
“Har-har, very funny.” If you would’ve asked me a few years ago, I’d also say I’d be the first one getting married.
“What’s up with you, anyway? How’s dating going?” Connor continues. His brown hair is immaculate, freshly cut for the wedding.
“Horrible. Haven’t gone past a first date for like six months.” They both wince at my statement.
“Are they all really so bad?” Noah interjects.
“Nope. There’s just no chemistry. Zero. Nada.” Noah smirks, like he knows something he’s not supposed to.
“What about you, Noah? How’s that guy you’ve been seeing?”
“Alex goes by they,” he responds, and Connor quickly apologizes. “It’s going ok. Nothing serious. We’re hanging out.”
Noah dates regardless of the gender. He says personality is what attracts him to someone, and I respect it. We met a few years ago when I started working at Jones I’m not really interested.”
“Come on. It doesn’t have to be anything serious. You can have fun for just one night,” Connor says.
“Oh, you know our boy doesn’t do one-night stands,” Noah pokes fun at me.
“I know, but he has to at least try it. Have you ever had a one-night stand?” They’re both now all in the idea of me hooking up with a stranger.
“I have. It’s not my thing.” I’m not a virgin. I do sometimes engage in casual sex. It’s just not my preferred type of sex.
“Come on! You can’t say that fucking someone on a random night out with no plans or expectations doesn’t hold a certain appeal?” Noah is suddenly talkative, courtesy of Johnnie Walker.
“It was fine.” That’s a gross understatement. Last one-night stand I had was by far the best sex of my life. It’s also an honorary memory in my spank bank and, if I’m being honest, the reason for many failed first dates.
How can I give my attention to the nice girl sitting in front of me when images of a certain curly-haired firecracker telling me she never wants a repeat of the out-of-body experience we shared fill my mind?
Pretty soon, as if the guys arranged it, a group of attractive girls in their early twenties—which I consider way too young for me—walk up to us. Connor and Noah direct their advances toward me, and I spend the rest of my night declining their offers respectfully.
Regardless, it’s a good night. We laugh a lot, drink a ton, and the electronic music isn’t half bad.
“How about we call it a night?” Connor proposes after checking his phone.
“What’s the rush?” I smirk.
“The girls are heading home.” He shrugs.
“Shit, it’s three a.m.,” Noah says, checking the time.
“Let’s go,” I agree. We’d had a great time, but I don’t want to spend the rest of the trip hungover.
The girls are already there when we get back to Malena. They look cute, obviously intoxicated, giggling amongst themselves. Their dresses are slightly askew, and they have a hard time walking in the heels they’re wearing, Rina especially. Connor steps up, picking Rina up in his arms, and she continues giggling until he quiets her with his mouth. Their make-out session turns hotter than appropriate for a crowd, so they retreat to their cabin, leaving the four of us.
“I want to watch the stars,” Anne squeals and heads upstairs. Getting to the top deck is a feat, considering we’re all trying to keep her upright. We take a few bottles of water from the bar area and sit on the lounge chairs.
Anne is by far the drunkest, but Noah is right behind her. Natalie seems fine, but I don’t dare look at her too long. The short dress she’s wearing is riding dangerously high on her thighs, her tits practically spilling out of the top.
“We went to three clubs—which were all amaaaazing.” Anne starts reiterating their night, standing up from the lounge. “And we danced the whole night.” She shows off her dance moves, following a beat only she can hear. “And we drank. A lot.” A hiccup. “We couldn’t keep up with the amount of drinks guys were buying for us.” She lets out a small giggle.
Noah laughs as if the story is a Netflix comedy special.
“Wow! Lucky you. We had to buy our own drinks.” He takes a big gulp of water. “Except this guy.” He points at me. “He was a hit with the ladies.” A hint of blush creeps up my face, though I have nothing to be ashamed of. Still, I’d prefer not talking about it in front of Natalie.
“Ooh, ooh!” Anne slaps Noah’s shoulder. “Natalie was the same with the guys! This scorching hot waiter was circling her the whole night until she finally gave in and gave him some love.” She hugs her arms around herself, I guess reenacting their make out session.
Just like that, the shame is gone, replaced by possessive jealousy. It starts deep in my stomach, a tiny flame working its way up to my mouth. Before something stupid comes out if it, I extinguish it down with some cold water.
Natalie chuckles, seemingly unaware of my inner turmoil.
“Come on! Tell them how hot he was.” She goads Natalie. “These Croatian men are something else.”
“He was pretty hot,” she laughs. “And he certainly knew how to use his tongue, if you know what I mean.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively, and Noah and Anne act like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.
The tiny flame I extinguished? It’s a raging fire now, making me want to break the truce and spit out an insult. Or worse, shut her up with my mouth.
Anne suddenly drops onto the lounge.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Anne says.
“I’m going to help her back to her room,” Noah says, and Natalie thanks him.
Usually, I’m the first one to help others in need. But now, there are more pressing matters at hand. Because this truce? It’s over.