Every Kiss(69)

“What?”

“Nothing. I just can’t stand to be around her anymore.” Wes pushes my hair back from my face. “Thanks for listening to me whine. This is your birthday, and it shouldn’t be about me.”

Aaaaand . . . the vault closes again. “I’ll listen anytime. Isn’t that what friends are for?”

He smirks, his aquamarine eyes brightening. “I guess so. But you know what just occurred to me?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

“Shane and Makenna.” Wes looks back at the house. “As much as I hate to admit it, they were right. Their stupid plan might not be so dumb after all.”

I guess he’s right about that. I feel better right now than I have in weeks, and I know it’s because he’s here and we’ve talked. This weekend will end, and I know he’ll go back to his life and I’ll go back to mine, but I only want to think about this moment. Sure, I’d love more from him, but maybe we can actually be friends. The line may always be a little blurred, but as long as we acknowledge it, there shouldn’t be any surprises.

“And I really wanted them to be wrong, so I could let her have it.”

“Well, well, well . . .” Makenna calls out as she walks down the sidewalk leading to the beach. “Didn’t take you two long to hug up to each other.”

Wes drops his arms from my sides. “Well, it didn’t take you two long to take care of business. I’ve tried to tell Shane that slow and steady wins the race, but I think all he heard was ‘race.’”

A bright red flush blooms onto her cheeks. “As long as we both reach the finish line, I’m happy.”

“That’s not how it should be.” Wes winks at me. He’s trying hard to embarrass her. “I’m a fan of the Indy 500, myself. You just make one round after another, going so long you have to stop to rehydrate and refuel before ‘hitting’ it again. Pun intended, of course.”

“So I’ve heard.” Makenna purses her lips and turns to me. She’s practically glowing like a stoplight now. “You should probably think about coming in and getting ready. We’re leaving for dinner in just over an hour.”

Wes starts to push a few more of her buttons, but I smack him to shut him up. “I’ll gather up all of our stuff and be right in.”

“This.” She points to both of us. “I like it. Damn, I love being right.” She spins around and practically prances back inside.

I groan, grabbing my towel as I stand to shake the sand off of it. “And I have a feeling she won’t let us forget it either.”





“OKAY, CAL . . . PICK your poison. Make it something good because you’ll probably always remember the first alcoholic drink you were able to buy on your own.”

I peer at her over the wine list. “It’s just a drink, Makenna. I’m not naming my first born.”

The waitress moves to the other side of the booth to take everyone else’s orders after I order a glass of moscato, awarding me an approving nod from Makenna. She and Shane both order soda, and I’m not at all surprised when Wes orders whiskey and cola. Is it sad that the smell of whiskey on him does bad, bad things to me?

The restaurant we chose is a dine-in nightclub of sorts, and we had to be extra careful in choosing a place that you can get into if you are eighteen. Makenna has several months before she’s twenty-one, and because she can’t drink, Shane isn’t either. They may not be ordering drinks tonight, but the silver lining for me is that I know for sure I’ll have a sober driver to get me home. Not that I plan to get trashed or anything, but after a few glasses of wine, I certainly couldn’t drive. Especially after seeing the size of the wine glass the waitress just brought me.

The dining area circles all the way around the large space. The cozy high-back booths give a little separation from the other diners, but the dance floor is only a few steps away, allowing a full view of the entire floor. We were told that the music would start in an hour or so, so we’ll actually have some time to eat and chat before the music drowns us out.

“I can barely see you over there.” Makenna giggles. “I’ve never been in a restaurant this dark before. I won’t be able to see what I’m eating.”

“Honey, you’ve never been in a club before. They’re all like this.”

“Seriously,” Wes elbows me. “You’ve never dragged her into that club just off campus?”

“I’ve tried.” That’s all I can manage to say with him looking at me like that. He looks delicious as always in his black V-neck tee and low-slung jeans, but something about the soft lighting and the atmosphere in this place only amplifies his appeal. It could be the fact that I can’t stop thinking about where I’ve seen him in dim light before—his bed.