Chapter 3 Fireworks At Rosewater #2
Kit bumped her shoulder lightly. "Your home turf is showing."
Luna smiled. "Good. I'm tired of acting like it belongs to everyone else."
James caught my eye and raised his glass. It wasn't a speech. It was better than one. Tina leaned into him, smiling with a softness that made Luna release a breath I didn't think anyone else noticed.
I noticed.
"You okay?" I asked her.
Luna looked up at me. "I'm good." She drew my hand a little closer to her hip. "Really good."
Three women at a nearby table whispered and looked over. One of them smiled into her cup. A guy by the rail nudged his friend, but before the stare could turn awkward, Poppy blew into the space like she'd been fired from a cannon.
"There you are!" she called.
Poppy wore cutoff shorts, a fitted tank, and the kind of smile that made people forgive her for taking over rooms. Her dark curls bounced as she crossed the terrace, phone in one hand, drink in the other, eyes already reading the crowd while her body aimed straight for us.
She got to Kit first, wrapped both arms around her, and kissed her cheek with a loud smack.
"Gorgeous," Poppy said.
Kit laughed. "You saw me twenty minutes ago."
"And you've somehow improved."
Poppy turned to Luna, cupped her face, and kissed her cheek too, softer this time. "Rosewater princess era. I approve."
Luna rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Please never call it that again."
"No promises."
Then Poppy turned to me.
Her hand landed on my chest, fingers spread over my heart, and her whole expression shifted. Still bright. Still playful. But not only that. She looked at me like the crowd existed and she had already decided it didn't get the final vote.
"Hi, Smoke Show," she said, quieter.
"Hi, Poppy."
"You breathing?"
"Mostly."
"Good enough." She slipped under my arm and tucked herself into my side as if the space had been made for her. "I missed you."
The simple honesty of it hit harder than all her strategy ever could.
"I missed you too."
Her smile flashed, then she turned outward, arm still around my waist, making our formation impossible to mistake: Kit on one side, Luna on the other, Poppy against me, all three touching, all three unbothered.
A Kappa Rho girl near the railing had been staring with her phone half up, frozen between gossip and manners. Poppy caught her eye and grinned.
"Hey," Poppy called. "Can you take one for us before the light gets weird?"
The girl blinked, then laughed. "Sure."
Poppy handed over her phone and immediately rearranged us with quick, affectionate touches.
Kit closer. Luna's hand still in mine. Poppy tucked under my arm, cheek angled up, body warm against my ribs.
It could have been a repeat of Brewster Bay's controlled shoot if she had let it become one.
She didn't. She kept it fast, laughing when the Kappa girl asked if we wanted the lake in the background.
"Always," Poppy said. "The lake needs to learn composition."
The girl took three shots and handed the phone back. Poppy checked the first one, smiled, and locked the screen without posting.
"That one's ours," she said.
I looked down at her. "Not for the grid?"
"Not everything is for them." Poppy's thumb brushed my waist, private and steady. "Some of it is so I remember how it felt before everyone else started naming it."
Kit's hand found my back. Luna stayed close. Poppy lifted her chin like the softness had never happened and scanned the terrace again.
A group of guys near the bar called something I couldn't make out. Poppy waved cheerfully. Kit ignored them. Luna squeezed my hand.
"They're watching," Luna said.
"They can handle it," Kit said.
Poppy's eyes sharpened toward the bar. "Speaking of handling things."
I followed her gaze.
Vina stood at Rosewater's outdoor bar with her red hair catching the sun like a warning flare. She had one elbow on the counter, a drink in her hand, and three lake guys orbiting close enough to burn up on entry. She laughed at something one of them said, then looked past all of them and found me.
The smile she gave me made the party feel ten degrees hotter.
Poppy patted my stomach. "Good luck."
Kit murmured, "Don't die."
Luna smiled into her drink. "Or do. It'll be memorable."
Vina lifted two fingers at me in a tiny come-here motion.
My body moved before my common sense could file a protest.
***
Vina didn't wait for me to reach the bar.
She cut through the crowd halfway, drink in one hand, confidence doing most of the work.
She wore a black dress over a red bikini, thin straps, bare shoulders, legs shining with sunscreen and heat.
Her mouth was glossy. Her eyes were bright.
Every man between us seemed to understand he was background.
"There you are, Brew," she said when she reached me. "I was starting to think the foundation girlfriends had you under protective custody."
"They warned me about you."
"They should."
She pressed a cold glass into my hand. The condensation ran over my fingers.
"What is it?"
"Something strong enough to make you honest, not strong enough to excuse bad choices."
"That's a narrow lane."
"I have excellent aim."
She clinked her glass to mine and drank. I took a sip because refusing Vina at a party was like telling fireworks to keep it down. The drink was citrus, rum, and poor judgment.
Vina watched me swallow, her gaze dropping to my throat and then dragging back up to my eyes.
"Good boy," she said.
The words went straight through me.
"Vina."
"What?" Her smile widened. "Too public?"
"Everything about you is too public."
"And yet you keep looking." She stepped close enough that her hip brushed mine. "That's the fun part."
The music shifted heavier, bass rolling across the terrace and down through the dock boards. Vina looked toward the dance space, then back at me. She took my drink, set both glasses on the nearest table, and caught my wrist.
"Come on."
"I'm not much of a dancer."
"I didn't ask if you were good."
She pulled me into the moving crush near the bar, where bodies were already loose from heat and alcohol and the dangerous belief that the Fourth forgave bad judgment. Vina turned in front of me, took both my hands, and put them on her waist.
"Hold on," she said.
"To you?"
"To the night. Me first."
Then she moved.
Vina danced like restraint was something she could set on fire without burning herself.
Slow at first, hips finding the bass, shoulders rolling, red hair sliding over one side of her neck.
My hands stayed at her waist because moving them anywhere else would have created a news cycle.
The fabric of her dress was thin under my palms. Her skin was hot.
She looked up at me from beneath her lashes and smiled like she could feel my pulse in my fingertips.
People noticed fast.
Of course they did.
Vina turned in my arms, her back to my chest, and pressed into me just enough to make my breath go rough. Her ass fit against me like she'd measured the angle, and when my hands tightened, she laughed low enough that only I heard it.
"Careful, Brew."
"You started this."
"I know." She tipped her head back, mouth near my ear. "I like watching you try to behave."
"Behaving is overrated."
"Then stop pretending you're doing it for your sake."
She rolled her hips again, slower, filthier, still technically dancing and absolutely not innocent. My cock went hard against her, despite the crowd, despite every phone, despite the fact that we were ten feet from the bar and maybe thirty from half the people who'd known us since high school.
Vina felt it happen. Her smile was pure victory.
"There he is," she whispered.
"Don't get smug."
"Too late."
A lake guy near the rail muttered, "Jesus," and his friend laughed like he'd just seen proof of a myth. Two Kappa girls watched openly now, one with her hand over her mouth, the other grinning like she was already writing the group chat version.
Vina saw all of it.
She used it.
She spun back to face me, chest against mine, her arms sliding up around my neck. Her mouth came close to my jaw, close enough that her breath warmed my skin.
"They all want to know what happens when I get you alone," she said.
"They can keep wondering."
"Good answer." Her nails grazed the back of my neck. "I want you wondering too."
"I don't have to wonder what happens when you get me alone."
Her smile sharpened. "No, you don't."
"But I've been wondering when you're going to do it again."
"That right?"
"All night."
Her expression flickered, heat still there, but something serious under it now. "Then don't let them turn me into the girl you only want when everyone's watching."
The line cut through the music.
I tightened my grip on her waist, not enough to claim control, just enough to make sure she felt me stay.
"I don't want you only when they're watching."
Vina's eyes held mine. For one beat, the party girl mask was gone. Then somebody shouted near the bar, the bass kicked harder, and she smiled again, wild and bright.
"Good." She leaned in until her lips brushed the shell of my ear. "Prove it later."
Before I could answer, my gaze snagged over her shoulder.
Sam stood at the edge of the dance space with a beer in his hand and an expression that belonged on a man staring at a celebrity car crash he secretly admired.
Not hurt. Not shocked. He knew Vina was Vina.
He knew she'd never been waiting for him.
But pride had a body, and his was standing very still.
Sally appeared beside him with a second beer before he looked for one. She slid it into his free hand, leaned close, and said something I couldn't hear.
Sam's mouth twitched.
He started to say something back, probably at his own expense, but Sally touched two fingers to his forearm and cut him off without looking like she was doing it. Then she looked toward me and Vina, looked back at Sam, and lifted one eyebrow.
Sam took a drink.
"Celebrity-level unfair," he called when he saw me watching. "But I respect the production value."