THE BAR WAS LOCATED NEAR the pool area. I could tell it was the resort’s sanctuary by the amount of detail put into the place. There was a stage near the back with a karaoke machine fit for a king. A huge screen suspended on the wall where the lyrics slid across. A glowing dance floor in the middle, properly weathered and broken in. A rainbow of colors danced around the room. Crimson booths wrapped around the walls, lit by fat, romantic candles. The ambiance said private, sensual, fun.
I sucked in an encouraging breath, heading for the bar where James was sitting.
Shirtless.
And pantless.
I swallowed thickly. He was a briefs man, and boy did he wear them well.
“You came,” he said as soon as I took the stool next to him. It creaked when I sat and spun, forearms resting against the glossed edge of the bar.
My eyes became criminals, trying to steal small glances of him. Taking inventory of his sloping, jutting abs. How many were there? Jesus, all eight of them?
Heat slid like hungry hands over my skin.
“I see you’re dressed,” he said with an edge of a heady chuckle.
“And I see you’re not.” I kept my eyes forward, focusing on the glistening bottles lining the shelves along the back wall. A deceptive garden of liquid courage and poor decisions.
I was suddenly thirsty. So thirsty.
My eyes were drawn away as Basil swooped in with the elegance of Greta Garbo. He leaned in on his forearms, a few breaths away. “Hello, lost girl.” His voice was rosy and warm. Eyelids covered in a shimmering shade of silver. “What will it be?”
I whispered, “A sip from your confidence would be nice.”
He laughed, the sound fluttery. “Aren’t we all a bag of insecurities waiting to be emptied?”
I scratched at my neck. I didn’t have a response to that.
“Don’t you worry, honey. I’ll empty you.” He spun around, hands working in a flurry as bottles were lifted and sat back down. Ice was poured, and then shaken.
A minute later, he pushed a pink, frothy margarita in front of me. The salt around the rim sparkling under the lights. Strawberry Fields was the name he gave the potent drink.
I took a welcomed, desperate sip.
His scarf was bright green tonight, fitting into the alien theme that permitted one article of clothing for everyone.
“Lost girl?” James asked when Basil was hailed down by a customer wearing nothing but green paint.
I shrugged. Wrapped my lips around the straw and took in a hearty sip. “He said I looked lost when I first met him,” I said a moment later as warmth rolled through my veins, easing into my shoulders.
He examined me. Probing. Invasive. “You know, you do kind of have that sad, lost look in your eyes. Melancholy would be your hue.”
I shoved him and pulled the drink back in, hugging it to me. “Thanks,” I said, even though I sort of liked the nickname. It meant that once I was found, I’d be golden.
“You’re welcome, lost girl,” he said, drawing out the name.
I shook my head, grinning, and turned around, dissecting the room, laughter and music blanketing the air. There was a woman wearing a lime green, clear vinyl jacket, pear-shaped and living her best life as she swayed in time to the music. A couple covered in blue paint, wearing antennas on their heads. Both thin-framed and moving against each other with a familiarity only years of love brought. Our sound guy was completely nude, as was a few of the set designers. They sat around a table, swapping stories like they were secrets. Swatting at the table in laughter.
But the most outrageous, and hilarious, was the barrel-bellied man who decided to cover his penis with tinfoil.
Tinfoil, folks.
I gawked.
“I wonder if he can get reception?” James leaned in and whispered, his words dripping with laughter.
I fought hard against the cackle that barraged my insides, but eventually lost the war. Thankfully, the woman singing E.T. by Katy Perry was stomping her way through the thumping chorus, swallowing my laughter within the electronic beats.
I relaxed then. James was good at making me do that.
Hours disappeared like every drink tossed back. As the bottles were emptied, the alcohol seemed to lube limbs loose. Couples kissed. Some slid off to the booths, touching each other, laughing and kissing. Others danced harder, their movements lax. James and I sat neck-deep in conversation, something we never had a problem with.
“Aren’t you going to get a drink?” I asked him, my brain fuzzy from the three I’d already polished off. It was hot inside, maybe something intended to keep the uncovered warm. I’d shed my shirt an hour ago, feeling a sort of thrilling freedom despite being the only prude in the room.
The devil danced in his eyes. “I will, but only if you take your pants off.”
I reached for the peanuts, and then crammed a handful into my mouth. “Huh?” I said, mouth full and cheeks buzzing. Annoyance tickled the back of my neck.
“Your pants. We’ll be on the same uncomfortable level if you lose the pants.”
I reached for more nuts, but stopped. Nuts. I didn’t need any nuts in my life. I pushed the bowl away from me, grimacing at it.
“Come on, Hartley. We’re here for the experience, aren’t we? It’s the same as wearing a bathing suit.”
“Only it’s my underwear,” I stated, a bland taste on my tongue.
He held my gaze, a dare firing within his pupils, and something triggered in me. Blame it on my competitive side.
“Fine.” I stood. I wasn’t afraid of being in my underwear. I was afraid of being in my underwear with the people who were my colleagues. But being afraid was for suckers.
I was no sucker.
I unbuttoned them, and then shimmied out of the scratchy fabric.
Besides, it was hot as fuck.
“There you go,” he said as he waved Basil over, excitement animating his movements.
Basil eyed me up and down. “I see you’re lightening up.” His head fell to the side, eyes bulging. “Girl, why hide that body of yours? Lord, if I was that blessed, I’d share it with the world.”
What the hell was wrong with my cheeks today? They were acting like I was a schoolgirl freshly embarrassed.
He must have noted this, because he turned away from me, allowing me to breathe again. “What can I get you?” he asked James.
James was rocking in his seat, studying the bottles. “I’ll… uh… I’ll have a brandy on the rocks.”
And here I was beginning to have fun.
I was a prisoner to the memories I hoarded of Hudson. I’d been greedy, soaking up every drop of detail I could during my time with him, and that greediness was biting me in the ass. Voices drowned into nothing as an ache filled my heart. When I closed my eyes, I could still see those three lines chiseled by thousands of smiles at the corners of his mouth that deepened when he drank. I felt the ghost of his touch that roughened in a good way on the nights we had a few.
My heart hit an iceberg with the clinking of the ice Basil poured into James’ glass. It split in half, guts spilling, when he grabbed the same brand Hudson loved. And it sank to the bottom of the ocean of my unshed tears as James put the amber liquid to his lips.
I wasn’t sure if I’d had one too many, or if I was delirious with longing, but I swear James’ face shifted back and forth between his own and Hudson’s. There was a slope to his nose, the same slope I used to see imaginary skiers jumping off, that he shared with Hudson. I never noticed it before, but then again, when had I stared at the side profile of James’ face? I wanted to touch it. Run my finger over it. I thought I was reaching out when—
“Who broke your heart?”
It was Basil’s question that brought the voices rushing back. I jerked my gaze away from James, who was watching a man wearing a silver cape singing karaoke, and forced it on Basil.
“Hmm?”
He slid me another pink margarita. I took a sip, and then my face puckered. “Jesus.”
“You won’t find him in that drink, honey. Try the devil,” he said with an impish smirk. Resting his elbows against the counter, he leaned in, chocolate eyes taking on that professorial air.
I guessed he was taking a break from being a bartender and stepping back into the role of therapist. Lucky me.
“Take another sip and answer the question.”
He was like my mother in that sense. He wouldn’t let up when he was onto something.
My heart retreated. “What question?”
“Who broke your heart?”
I took another sip. And then one more, for good measure.
“No one.” I sighed at my pathetic attempt to sound neutral. Basil was the kind of person who could pull the truth from the best liar. But I didn’t want to speak truths. I didn’t want to revisit the old hurts collected in my bones.
“Liar,” he said, reflecting my thoughts.
I sighed again, the sound piteous. “I wish I was.” I whirled the straw around the glass, watching as tiny flecks of lime peel swam in circles. “I broke his.” I took another sip, the burn welcomed. “And mine,” I added with a swallow.
Hudson was a splint in my heart. And I didn’t take care of it.
“She’s married to the work,” James chimed in. He was already smiling differently, more relaxed. He wore alcohol like a teenager having their first drink. Eyes glazy and sluggish. Lips loose and slow. Limbs moving like they’d never functioned before.
Basil looked between us, shaking his head in disapproval. “Now that’s just sad.”
“How so?” James asked as he spun around to face him, elbow almost knocking over his empty glass.
Basil’s hands were splayed out against the bar. Now he was the professor, schooling us. “Let me sum it up for you with one word—retirement. The work will end, and all you’ll be left with is time and no one to share it with.”
“Maybe… unless you meet someone who thinks like you and understands.”
I tried not to notice that James’ eyes were on me when he said it. His gaze was hot and sticky, and I felt caught within it. Pinned down by foolishly brave implications.
“Sugar,” Basil said, leveling with him. “If you think it’s that easy, then you’re more hopeless than I thought.”
“Not hopeless. Just patient,” James replied with unnerving confidence, his gaze searing the side of my face. “How ‘bout another brandy?”
“Coming right up.”
When Basil turned, James touched my leg.
My skin jumped from his touch, and then sort of sighed, welcoming the light contact. How long had it been since I felt the skin of another? The trailing, curious fingers following the curves of my body? There was an aching heat in my belly, too hard to ignore.
He chuckled. “Hey.”
I didn’t move… too zoned in on his touch to think straight. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I reacting like this? It was like my body wasn’t in sync with my heart. It was betraying me, gobbling up his touches and heated glances, forgetting about the man stored away in my heart.
“Hartley, look at me.”
I did, and my breath stopped. Everything stopped.
“You cool?” His eyes were pooling with longing. Heat rolled off his body in delicious, syrupy waves, and I felt caught, like a fly in honey.
I nodded, praying he couldn’t hear my heart protesting angrily against my ribs.
His eyes drifted to my breasts, only for a second, then he retracted his hand and turned, downing the brandy in one desperate gulp. I should have felt slimy. Gross. Violated.
But I didn’t. I felt heat. Curiosity. Desire.
No. You’re drunk. And fucking the director is asking for another Wesley incident.
I was drunk, and I needed to go… far away from there before I acted on impulse and did something I’d regret.
I grabbed my shirt and pants, then pulled out enough cash to cover my drinks. Panic was a spooked animal inside my chest, urging me forward. Setting my fare on the bar, I headed for the door. I heard James call after me, but I didn’t stop.
I slid my shirt and pants on once I was around the corner, then touched at my face. It was damp with tears, and I didn’t understand why. All the emotions I’d been ignoring decided to take hammers to my lungs.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked myself as I tasted the salt on my lips. I raised desperate eyes to the sky, as if I’d find some kind of reasoning, some kind of sign telling me this was wrong… and there it was, a shooting star crossing the inky darkness.
I missed him. I missed him so fucking much.
But I didn’t backtrack. I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to him. I had to keep moving forward, because it was the only direction I’d ever known.
Make a wish, I thought, my heart crippling in confusion. I spun, knowing I needed to put myself to bed, and nearly collided with James.
“Hartley, please.” He said my name with such delicacy, too much tenderness… my heart couldn’t take it.
I turned to leave, but he grabbed my arm and spun me back around.
It only took a senseless second for his lips to press against mine.
It was warm at first, all those emotions and feelings buzzing and whirling like a raging storm inside me. His mouth was smooth and feeble, not demanding and possessive like Hudson’s. His hands held me in place. His eyes were squeezed shut as I stared at him, wide-eyed and confused. He didn’t try to taste me. To consume me. He was waiting for me to sigh into him.
But he wasn’t him.
That slimy feeling finally kicked in.
I pushed him off.
“Hartley—”
“Don’t ever do that again, James,” I said, the engine to my senses finally switching on. He stole that from me. Took what wasn’t offered, placing a mine in the field of our friendship.
“Why?” he pressed, eyebrows knitting together. “We both know we have chemistry. It only makes sense.”
“Having chemistry doesn’t give you the right to fuck up our friendship.” My body began to shake. I wrapped an arm across my chest, feeling like I’d been pushed into a hole. I needed to move. To put space between us so my heart could breathe again.
He wiped the tears from my cheek.
I pulled away from his touch.
Hurt moved in like a black shadow across his face that slowly morphed into red. “You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that?”
His words poured over me like acid. Burning. Searing.
Ridiculous? I turned on my heel, not wanting to engage. He had a couple, and I’d had more than a few. I didn’t want to say something I regretted. Something I meant.
“Hartley,” he called again, chasing after me. My name wasn’t soft leaving his lips that time. It was punctual and inflamed.
“Go home, James,” I said evenly.
He made a guttural noise in his throat. “I am. Remember? We live next door to each other?”
His tone was bitchy, and it warranted a groan.
“Why are you acting like this?” he asked, keeping up with my quickened steps.
I didn’t answer him, which seemed to set him off even more.
“Is it because of your ex?”
I flashed him a glare, but he was too set on pissing me off to care.
“It is. So you aren’t as cold as you think you are. You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?”
The accusation in his tone was choking me. Twisting my nerves into a knot.
“James, you’re going to regret talking shit in the morning, so just stop,” I said through my teeth. I could wring his neck. Fucking choke the ability to read me so well right from his fucking mind.
“I won’t. I told you. Filters are pointless. And if you understood that, then you’ll be honest when I ask if you enjoyed that kiss, because I think you did. That’s why you pushed me off. It scared you to think what we have is real. To think what you had with Mr. Whoever wasn’t.”
My heart blanched even though my mind told me to stand my ground. I didn’t want to hurt James, but I also didn’t want to lead him on. Anger rose its head like a cobra ready to strike.
This time, I’d allow my mind to win.
“You want honesty?” I practically yelled. “You want to live with no filters?”
He waited, jaw clenching.
“How’s this for removing the filter—No, James. I did not enjoy that kiss. It made me feel slimy. Is that how a kiss should feel?”
A hurricane of hurt and anger brewed in his eyes as what I said started sinking in.
“I don’t want you, James. That chemistry you felt at the bar was momentary insanity brought on by my raging hormones. Insanity that can be solved in about five minutes with a good vibrator.”
His eyes turned into slits.
“Fuck your no-filter policy, and fuck you for making me say that.”
The flames of my anger were quelled as the door to his cabin slammed shut behind him.
THE FEELING PEOPLE GOT WHEN they woke up from a dream, delirious with panic, thinking they’d forgotten to turn in their homework even though they weren’t in school anymore…
That was what I felt as I put myself to bed—only it wasn’t a dream. It was real, and I was fucked.