Chapter Eight
Finn
The limo they ordered was on its last leg, which was okay, I guess. Most of us, especially Miles, were in the same boat. It was an older stretch Lincoln Town Car with worn faux-leather seats that smelled of cigar smoke. Also, it was cheap.
Connor’s shirt was open, showing off his tanned skin and respectable abs. He was only wearing a shirt because the driver made him put one on. Connor had said, “But it’s a pool party. I need to come correct. Walk in looking good from the start.”
The driver, an older, overweight man, said, “No shirt, no shoes, no ride.” There was no further discussion.
Connor was in the best mood of all of us. Once we were off, he said, “Yo, broooo, I am so ready for this shit! VIP pool party? Fuck yes.”
Jason was less enthusiastic. “Calm down, man. I don’t know how you’re so full of energy after last night, but my head is killing me, and I was sober when I went to bed.”
Tyler laughed. “Yeah, Connor, you were pretty gone last night.”
Miles grunted. He wore shades in the limo and had said little that morning. Other than some mild regret that something was planned for the morning after the club. “Let’s not talk about last night, or else I’m gonna puke again.”
We laughed. Jason said, “I think the feeling is mutual.”
Ryder caught my eye from the other end of the limo. Or maybe I caught his. It lasted less than a second. If anyone didn’t want to talk about the night before, it might’ve been him.
I woke up that morning naked from head to toe, without morning wood, or even a piss boner for the first time in I didn’t know how long. Everything else was throbbing: my head, my feet, my back, even my glutes.
Ryder was awake before me, sitting up in bed on his phone. When he saw me stir, he wished me good morning. I grumbled a greeting, trying to come back to life. Ryder just plowed ahead and asked if I remembered the night before.
“Kinda,” I had said. “Kinda fuzzy in parts.”
I didn’t need to be fully awake to read his face. It fell, then he shook it. “No worries, man. Fuzzy for me too.”
He wasn’t naked when he got out of bed to pee. It was too late to explain that I was a little overwhelmed and very hungover. But also, parts of the club were missing, not the blow job. Like how I got to the VIP section, not what we did there.
I still hadn’t processed the blow job riding in the limo to the VIP pool party.
Nor had I said anything to Ryder outside of small talk.
My head was moving slower than normal, and every time I opened my mouth to say something to him, it came out as a comment on the upcoming activity. Ryder wasn’t engaging with me either.
I knew I had to talk to him. From what I remembered of the night before, he was apprehensive and told me I’d regret it. I wasn’t sure what to think about it, but I needed him to know that it wasn’t regret.
The place was outdated. Tables under umbrellas cluttered the several levels.
A gigantic, free-form-shaped bar dominated the center of the space.
And the pool, large by backyard standards but small compared to our hotel’s, was off to the side against the wall of the neighboring building.
Why we needed to pay money to sit by a shittier pool was beyond me.
Our VIP section did not inspire the same awe or value for money as the third floor of LIV. Instead of being high above the pulsing crowds with the massive moving screen that was its ceiling, it was two outdoor couches with a small table and an umbrella between them.
It took about three and a half seconds for Connor to take off his shirt, and five for Tyler to find a server and order shots of tequila. Swallowing it felt like poison, and then like I was going to throw it back up. Miles almost did, dry gagging twice before slouching into the couch like a zombie.
Tyler and Connor didn’t have that issue and jumped in the pool as soon as the liquor hit their blood. Jason looked at Miles, then at me, and said, “I’m gonna take a dip.”
Once he was gone, that left me alone with the brothers for the first time the whole trip. Even I understood the tension between the three of us. Miles and Ryder had their whole thing. Miles and I hadn’t connected the entire trip, when we were usually inseparable. And Ryder and I, well… yeah.
“This was a fucking mistake,” Miles grumbled, sounding more like himself than I’d heard since the airport.
“I agree with you on that.” Ryder sat back.
“I meant this place.”
“I know.” Ryder had a slight chuckle in his voice. “And I meant this stupid ass trip. Expensive, far, long. But baby brother gets what baby brother wants.”
Miles chuckled, causing him pain. “Fuckin’ A, man. Am I a pretentious douchebag?”
“I don’t think you’re a douchebag, more like an asshole, but otherwise, yeah.”
Miles turned to his brother, and I was sure he was about to curse him out. Instead, he said, “Fuck you, man,” and laughed as hard as his hangover would allow.
“I thought you two were about to get all bitchy again, and I’m too hungover for that shit,” I said.
“Nah, big brother is over his bitchy phase. Thank God,” Miles said.
Ryder said, “Alas, that will never be said about you. But here we all still are.”
They smiled at each other, as they always had, making me smile too. Ryder had to still be mad at Miles, but the urge to care for his little brother outweighed whatever animosity he felt for him, and always would.
Ryder was a good dude. Solid, dependable, the kind of guy you’d want in your corner.
The first number you called when shit went wrong.
But something shifted in my mind about him.
Ryder was the biggest softie in the world.
He could protect and nurture, fight and defend, take and dole out all the shit there was to give, but if he loved you, he’d be there for you until his last breath.
Regardless of the cost, to his wallet, himself, or his well-being.
“You good, bro?” Miles asked me.
“Uh, yeah?”
“You look like you’re gonna puke. How fucking funny would that be if you puked, but I kept that shit down?”
“Nah, I’m good.” I shifted my body away from them. “Just feeling last night harder than I’d like.”
Thinking about Ryder like that, after what we did, had started to make me hard.
“Fucking A. Don’t let me follow Tyler down the road to oblivion ever again.” Miles laughed and coughed.
“If anyone ever learns how to tell you what to do, especially when you’re black out, please let me and Lena know.” Ryder laughed. “Well, other than Bree, I guess.”
Miles sat up and took off his shades. “FUCK. Did anyone post anything from last night? Even if I’m not in it?”
His sudden energy startled me. “Not that I know of. But they know not to.”
“What about taking any pics or recording?” Miles sounded panicked, and I took my phone out to double-check.
Ryder leaned forward to place a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Jesus Christ, man. Calm down. Even if someone took a picture of you, would it be the end of the world? You did nothing even close to wrong.”
“You don’t understand the shit I will get if they posted anything. I mean, wedding postponed or canceled.”
“Nothing’s on any of the guys’ socials I follow.” I looked up from my phone. “We’re good. They’re not that stupid.”
Ryder shook his head and laughed through his nose. “Would it really be that big of a deal if she knew you had fun down here? Like, what does she think you’re doing? At a fucking knitting convention?”
Miles ignored his brother. “What about the ones you don’t follow? Like Jason? Connor has some that aren’t public. And their stories!? Jesus fuck, their stories!”
He sounded worse than panicked, more like desperate. No, scared. Like he feared for his life. It made my already iffy stomach even queasier. Ryder and I shared a look, more what the fuck than is he having a breakdown, but still both.
I leaned on my knees and spoke softly. “Dude, it’s okay. I’ll ask them when they get back. It’s not a big deal. Even if one of them posted a story without you in it, it’s okay.”
“It’s really, really fucking not.”
“Miles, seriously, man, what would happen if one of them posted something on their own private accounts about things they’re doing that don’t feature, mention, or tag you?”
Miles’s face paled, and he looked back and forth between Ryder and me. Maybe it was hangxiety, but I’d never known him to get anxious the morning after partying. He was afraid of what would happen, and that scared me.
Which was only made worse when he said, “That’s not…
it isn’t… You know? Like how it’s supposed to be.
She can’t… She’ll be… I can’t be… be seen to be like that.
I’m the breadwinner and leader. You know?
Like… I can’t… that doesn’t fit how it’s supposed to be.
” His eyes were wide black pits, and his face trembled.
“Please just ask them if they posted anything. There can’t even be videos or pictures on their phones.
Please just ask them when they get back if they took any, and if they did, to delete them. Please, man, for real.”
“Yeah, of course.” My brow stitched together so tight it hurt. “I’ll take their phones and delete them myself if there are any, and check if they posted any stories.”
Miles stared at me for a moment, eyes flicking back and forth between mine, then melted back into his seat. After putting his shades back on, he said. “Thanks, Finnegan.”
Ryder looked just as concerned as I felt. “Can you tell me what the fuck just happened? Why would it be so terrible if there were pictures of you at a club with your male friends at your bachelor party?”
Miles didn’t look in his direction. “It’s not on brand.” He sounded much cooler, not an ounce of worry. “Her whole thing is about being an upstanding man and woman. Moral men don’t go partying at a place like that. They don’t party at all, really.”