Chapter 4
JUNIPER
I should have read the writing on the wall. And listened to my gut that warned me that John was a douche, but, no, I had to be an idiot. All because Rafe was trying to boss me around and tell me what to do.
I know there is no way anyone could seriously think I am a real contender to win a talent contest, but I would not let Rafe tell me what I could and couldn’t do.
He is far too full of himself, and I am not going to let him think he is my boss, dictating every move in my life.
Even though I know my singing is a sound that could rival a howling cat.
As I stand there in line with ten other girls, waiting for the talent contest to start, I can feel the energy shifting among the girls, and a sinking feeling falls through me.
I don’t know if it is delayed female intuition or all the women perking up, but a feeling of fear definitely rests on my shoulders.
I have a bad feeling in my stomach that this talent event isn’t going to go well for me.
“Girls, gather around,” John says, beaming, his green eyes bright with pleasure and excitement. I am half sure he is on something, but I am not going to ask, lest he ask me if I want some. “Thank you all for agreeing to participate tonight. The winner will receive a thousand dollars.”
“I hope I win,” the girl next to me squeals.
I notice she’s jumping up and down in a way that seems very obvious that she’s not wearing a bra.
I don’t know if she’s deliberately trying to make her boobs jiggle, but that’s what they’re doing.
I can’t help but notice that John is looking in her direction as well.
Not that I care, but now I know one hundred percent that his flirtations weren’t legit.
“What’s your talent?” I ask her, wondering if she’s a better singer than me. Not that it would be hard. I was booted from a choir in high school. “Are you the next Adele?”
“Adele?” She gives me an odd look. “These are my talent, babe.” She looks down at her boobs.
I swallow hard. I know something horrible is about to happen, but for some reason, I don’t listen to my instincts, and that reason is standing next to the bar, gazing up at the stage with a frown on his face. I try to ignore the snarky look that Rafe’s giving me and turn back to John.
“So, girls, there are going to be three rounds of the competition. I’m going to hand you each a white T-shirt.”
My heart thuds. A white T-shirt? My brain is racing. Why would he be handing us a white T-shirt? My stomach sinks as my brain races. Fuck, I have a feeling I know why he’s been so attentive now.
“The first round is just going to be dancing. Get your freak on. Whatever you want to do, feel free to do it. If you want to twerk on each other, do it. You will hear a dong when the hoses come out.”
Dong? Hoses? What the helly?
“The hoses?” My voice sounds high and squeaky, and my heart almost stops.
This is why I need to stop being stubborn.
I feel faint. This cannot be happening, can it?
He looks over at me and grins. “Yeah, that’s when we’ll be wetting the T-shirts, honey.”
Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
I’ve entered a wet T-shirt contest by mistake.
I want to sink into the ground. I want to run off the stage.
I want to hide. I want to go home. Would anyone notice if I ran like the wind and jumped off the stage?
I look out into the crowd, and I realize, all of a sudden, it’s packed.
There are more people at Cocktails & Chaos tonight than I’ve ever seen in my life, and most of them are men.
Very good-looking men. And Rafe. Rafe, who is sitting there, looking smug, looking like some sort of asshole.
And I can tell exactly what he’s thinking—I told you not to enter.
I hate that he was right. I hate that I’m so stubborn that I won’t admit he’s right. I hate that I have no idea how to extricate myself from this situation.
How have I done this to myself? My dumbass hasn’t entered a singing talent competition.
I’ve entered a wet T-shirt contest. I could slap myself.
There is no way I feel comfortable showing my boobs to a bunch of lewd men.
And to Rafe. Rafe, who is just sitting there, waiting to see what is going to go down.
I look out and survey the crowd again to see if I can figure out a way to escape.
I see Rosie and Sage dancing and giggling about something directly in front of me.
Mia’s got her arms around Luke, and they’re whispering sweet nothings to each other.
Sometimes, I hate that they are so in love.
None of them look concerned for me. None of them look like they want to rescue me.
Do they even realize what’s going on? I bet if Rosie and Sage knew, they’d be jumping on the stage as well. My two cousins have no fear.
I look back at Rafe, and now he’s staring at me with his arms folded and eyes narrowed.
Preston whispers in his ear, and his expression becomes thunderous.
He waves me to come off the stage. I can tell from his expression that he’s trying to say, I told you this wasn’t a good idea.
And because I can’t stand him, I turn away.
Instead of listening to him and walking off the stage like I want to do.
“What’s the third part of the contest?” I ask John, even though I’m not sure I really want to know. But maybe it won’t be so bad. Plus, I would like to win a grand.
“Then you peel the T-shirt off, and whoever has the best boobs wins.”
He winks at me like he can’t wait, and all I can do is shiver—because what on earth? There’s no way in hell I’m taking my top off.
I’m not going to compete in a wet T-shirt contest. I’m not going to bounce my boobs around for everyone in front of the stage to see. It’s not going to happen. I just need to figure out how to make my exit without it looking like I’m scared. I will not give Rafe the chance to gloat.
“Can we keep our bras on?” a timid girl to the left of me says, her long brown hair frizzy in the humidity. She seems petrified, and I wonder if she has her own Rafe in the crowd.
“You can do whatever you want, but the crowd’s going to vote, and they’re likely going to vote for the sexiest woman up here.
So, if you don’t take that bra off, it’s very unlikely that you’ll win,” John says matter-of-factly, but the look he gives her is dismissive.
“I need you all to fill out some forms just to make sure we have your consent to participate, and then we’ll hand out the T-shirts, which you can keep.
Then we’ll get started. Don’t forget, the winner gets a thousand dollars. And a date with me at the end.”
He looks around the crowd and waggles his tongue, and I want to throw up because that’s not an offer I think anyone wants to take up.
I don’t say that’s not really a prize because I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t know what else to do.
I so desperately want to get off the stage, but I don’t want Rafe to be right.
How far am I willing to go to prove to Rafe that I’m my own woman?
I groan as I see him making his way closer to the stage, his blue eyes narrowed as he gazes up at me with a hard stare.
The man looks pissed as he gestures to me to get off the stage again.
Who the hell does he think he is? And why does he look so handsome, standing there?
Ugh. I turn away from him, annoyed at myself and him, and I realize that my annoyance with him is about to lead me into one very bad decision.
“Are you doing it?” the timid girl whispers to me.
“I think so. What about you?”
“Yeah. I told myself I was going to let loose because it’s my vacation, but I don’t know how. I’m with my sorority sisters, and they always call me a scared mouse who is no fun, so I want to show them that I can be fun.” She stares at me, her lower lip trembling, and I rub her shoulder.
“You look a little bit uncertain, like me. If you’re not comfortable, you shouldn’t do it.”
“You either.” She nods seriously. “Do you want to do it?”
“I kind of don’t really want to do this, but …” I nod over to the bar. “You see that guy standing there?”
“The bartender, Preston?”
“No, not him. The other one. Standing directly in front of him, staring at us.”
“Oh, the guy with the dark hair who’s frowning?” She stares at me. “Is that your husband or something?”
“No.” I burst out laughing. “He’s my best friend’s older brother, and he thinks he’s some sort of bodyguard or something.
He was basically telling me not to get on the stage, but I didn’t want him to boss me around.
So, here I am, and now I don’t really want to be in a wet T-shirt competition, but I don’t want him to think he’s won. ”
“He’s cute,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “Do you have a crush on him?”
“No, not at all. He’s not that cute.”
She gives me a look that tells me I’m crazy, and I laugh.
“Okay, fine. He’s very cute, and maybe there was one point in my life where I liked him.
And maybe I even threw myself at him. Maybe I thought he was going to be the love of my life.
Maybe I even offered him my virginity. And maybe he was my first ever real kiss.
But,” I say before she can say anything, “I’m over him now. ”
“So, you kissed him years ago, and then …” She grins.
“Very quickly after we kissed, he told me it was never going to happen again and that it was a mistake and that he could never cross that line with me and lots of other stuff. And, well, let’s just say, I was super embarrassed.”
“So, you still like him?”
“No.”
“It’s okay. He’s cute. I mean, he looks grumpy and annoying, but he’s cute. And maybe it’s kind of cool that he’s protective over you. He’ll beat up anyone who tries to get to you.”
“That’s not cute. It’s annoying.”
“So, then tease him and show him he’s not the boss of you.”
“What do you mean?”