Chapter 5
Reed
Icouldn’t walk away fast enough. I had to move away from this girl before I turned around and found some pathetic way to stay with her.
At her side. Talking, bantering, inhaling her sweet scent, busting out all the stops to hear her laugh.
The sound was bewitching, like hearing a song from my childhood.
Cienna. She did something to me that felt wonderful and terrifying at the same time. I needed to get a fucking grip.
While I grappled for space from this woman to get my shit together, she now sat with a rambunctious group of ladies, hell-bent on throwing her at men, and there were plenty of candidates lurking around the bar.
It didn’t seem right to feel possessive after a short encounter and a few flirtatious moments on the dance floor, but there was no use shaking the excruciating thought of watching another guy moving in.
The warm breeze on the deck ruffled my hair.
I needed fresh air and space but a clear view of the bar as well.
My phone served as a brief distraction as I scrolled my email, constantly peeking back up.
I typed out a quick text to Caroline with a picture of the ocean—she always requested one of the open water.
“Someday we can travel the seas together. Be safe. Love you.”
Someone tapped on my shoulder, and I looked up. Bare thighs and a short skirt crashed into my line of sight to the table where Cienna sat. “Can I get you something to drink, sir?”
Shifting my body so I could look around the lovely—but far too close—cocktail server, I started to shake my head, then paused. “Yes, actually.” I pointed toward the window. “Can I order a round of your pinkish, fruitiest drinks for that table of ladies?”
The waitress winked. “Got it, and should I tell them who it’s from?”
“Nah, they’ll know.”
She jotted down the order on her pad, then swiveled her hips as she walked off.
Not too long after, a commotion rose in the bar. My attention was drawn to the table of ladies hollering over a tray of hot-pink drinks being passed out. One stood up and lassoed the air, while another twerked in her seat.
Cienna, however, sat still. Playing with the straw in her drink, her eyes darting around the room.
Was she looking for me? A blip of excitement shook in my chest, but I swallowed it down.
Relaxing against the railing, I pulled fresh ocean air into my lungs.
As I slowly released the breath, I noticed two men standing by the table that was a riot of female hoots and hollers a few minutes ago.
One grazed his hand on the back of Cienna’s spot at the end of the booth.
I caught her cursory glance up at him, then she turned back to her drink, wrapping those beautiful lips around her straw.
Well, fuck no. In my mind, her sips were as good as porn, and she was on full display.
As if I’d used teleportation, I was suddenly at their table.
Yeah, so I didn’t pretend to know any of the bro-code rules. They were for douchebags and frat bros who needed guidance in being decent human beings. With that being said, this was probably—okay, definitely—breaking some kind of bro-code rule. Ask me if I gave a damn.
I really, really didn’t.
Cienna paused, lips parted, and then gave me an adorable smile as she scooted over for me. The hovering guy reluctantly slid to the side to make space for me too.
From the other end of the table, someone shrieked and pounded the table. “It’s hot ginger guy!”
Every person, including the frat boys, looked at me.
The ladies raised their pink drinks, toasting, “Hot ginger guy.”
I rubbed my thumb up and down my chin, not really knowing how to respond. The blonde across from me was pink in the cheeks and slurring a little as she tilted toward me. “That’s you.”
Edging closer to Cienna, I whispered, “I see I’ve won over the committee with my ginger appeal. I can sleep better at night now. Do I get a certificate or something?”
She giggled and swatted my arm. When I looked back at the rest of the table, the dudes were gone, and all attention was back on me.
Tipping my glass up at the ladies, I gave them my best “Cheers!”
They joined me and followed up with “To hot ginger guy.”
Cici waved her hands around. “Guys, he has a name.” She jutted a thumb at me. “This is Reed.”
“Hi, Reed,” the penis-crowned blonde at the end of the table responded. “I’m Jenn, and these are my ride or dies.”
The girls defaulted back to whoops, and the one across from me banged on the table. “That’s my fucking sister, and she’s getting married,” she slurred as much as she cheered.
Cici nudged me. “That’s Kennedy. She’s a very enthusiastic drunk.”
I nodded and lifted my drink toward the bachelorette. “Congratulations.”
The brunette next to Cici reached across Cici’s front to shake my hand. “I’m Lucy. I’m usually the DD, so I know how annoying they can be. Just drink more, it gets more tolerable.”
I chuckled. “Nice to meet you, Lucy.”
Next to Kennedy, a woman reached across the table. “I’m Darcy. Did Cici tell you about our covert operation? The mission?”
Sneaking a glance at Cici, who ducked her head, I accepted Darcy’s firm handshake. The lady meant business. “Of course she did.”
“Can you deliver the goods?” she asked, sitting back down with a wiggle of her brows.
Still having no idea what she was talking about or what I was agreeing to, I gave her a reassuring thumbs-up, and Cici collapsed her face into her hands.
“They are relentless,” she murmured.
I bumped my shoulder to hers. “They’re fun.”
“Reed, are you here alone?” The question came from the head of the table as Jenn straightened her crown.
“I am actually here for work. Alone.”
“Aww, man, no hot friends came along?” Kennedy pouted.
“Nope. Totally solo. Just me and my camera.” I automatically went to pat my camera bag but realized it wasn’t on me for once.
“Ooh, a photographer?” Lucy leaned her head forward again, cooing at Cienna and coaxing her.
“Yes, I do freelance work for travel agencies, magazines, blogs…”
“Ooh! A photographer and a journalist. That’s sexy.” Kennedy shot me an exaggerated wink from across the table, then quickly received scowls from the rest of the group.
“Kennedy, bring it down a notch, hon,” Darcy warned from next to her.
Kennedy growled at me playfully, then sat back and sipped on her drink.
“Well, if you’re alone, then you need a posse. This is your crew now.” This lovely invite came from Jenn. “Only caveat, you might have to take shots out of penis-shaped cups.”
I shrugged. “A shot is a shot.” My sentiment was returned with a few raised glasses and then an awkward pause as all gazes settled on me once again.
Luckily, Lucy hopped up. “I have an idea. Let’s! Play! Never have I ever.” She clapped after each word for emphasis.
“Yes! I’ll get the drinks,” Kennedy, the one who probably should be drinking the least, volunteered.
She stood to head to the bar and fumbled a little with her chair, nearly losing her balance.
I stood, as if I’d be able to help her from where I was.
From the head of the table, Jenn yelled, “Sit down, crazy pants, you have a drink in front of you. Don’t make me get you a spoon. ”
I sat back down and whispered to Cienna, “Spoon?”
She shifted even closer to me and turned her head in slightly. My entire body warmed from her breath on my ear and neck. “When Kenn goes a little too hard with, um, beverages, her sister”—she pointed to the head of the table—“takes her straw and makes her use a spoon to drink.”
“Interesting strategy.”
“Okay, does everyone know how to play?”
Before anyone could respond, Kennedy flew up, nearly climbing the table to have herself heard, even though she was yelling. “Never have I ever had a one-night stand.” She looked at Cici like she’d won some sort of victory.
“Hey, loony. The point is to say things you haven’t done that others have. Then they have to put their finger down. You want to keep your fingers up,” Jenn said. “Now lower a finger and sit your ass down.”
Sisterly love at its finest.
The rest of the table looked at the damage, and everyone’s finger was down except for Cici’s, including mine.
I realized I was getting side-eyed by four women, who, might I add, had their fingers down as well.
At least I was honest. And at least they didn’t ask how many of those one-nighters happened on a cruise ship.
The ladies took turns, pointedly calling each other out for road head, bar-bathroom hookups, and booty calls to ex-boyfriends. Then there was suddenly an onslaught of turns seemingly pinpointed on Cici.
Never have I ever…
“Adopted a stray cat.” How kind.
“Cried during a Disney movie.” Who doesn’t? I put my finger down for that one too.
“Carried a book in her purse.” Sounds like somebody prepared for anything.
“Been late to a work meeting because I met a new dog friend on my lunch break.” Well, that’s just fucking precious.
Over and over, Cici’s fingers dropped as she glared around the table at the deliberate attack from her friends.
When it was finally my turn, her pinkie was her last finger standing. She raised a challenging brow at me, and the table hushed.
Do I play friend or foe? I knew the perfect and very truthful “never.” I puckered my lips, tapping them while she continued her stare down.
“Never have I ever…” Maybe I imagined it, but the table of ladies all leaned in at once, hanging on my every word. I flashed my cockiest grin and held her gaze, before saying, “Ordered pineapple on pizza.”
Kennedy slammed both hands on the table and shouted, “Boom.” A chorus of “oofs” echoed throughout the rest of the ladies.
“He’s got you, Ci,” called Darcy.
Cienna shot her pinkie up to my face, nearly grazing my nose. What would she do if I bit it playfully? I clenched my jaw to refrain and watched, cross-eyed, as she slowly brought it down to join the rest of her balled-up fist, only to replace her gesture with a middle finger.