In the Cards(6)

“So, I’ve got a fake ID. Let’s have a few drinks,” Dave announces with a huge grin. “What do you want? Something simple, like a rum and Coke?”

“Okay, but don’t approach that bartender.” I point at the one who can’t stand me. “He’ll know you aren’t old enough.”

Dave’s puzzled expression braces me for a question, but he shrugs before setting off for the other side of the bar. Within ten minutes, he reappears with two drinks in hand.

Holding up his glass, he makes a toast. “To our last semester at Greenwich Country Day!”

“Cheers!” Gulping down a huge swig of my sweet drink, I wipe the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. Dave smirks at me.

“So, Lindsey, why’d you suggest I avoid that particular bartender?”

Shoot. I’d hoped to sidestep this conversation.

“He carded me this afternoon when I tried to buy a daiquiri. Really embarrassing.” I roll my eyes for emphasis and omit any mention of the beach tête-à-tête.

“Something tells me it wasn’t really a drink you wanted.” Dave winks.

Busted.

“Maybe not, but it turns out he’s not too sociable.”

“Guys that look like that don’t need to be friendly to attract girls, do they?”

Dave’s commentary shames me. Admittedly, I’m still hot for the bartender, despite his snarky attitude and dead-end choices. If he weren’t so gorgeous, I probably wouldn’t be all that interested in the personality he revealed this afternoon, although his book choice did surprise me.

Hopefully I’ll wise up with age. Then again, why should I feel guilty about behaving the way every guy I’ve ever known does?

“I think that works with both genders, Dave. Hence the popular snotty girls.” I grimace because most people would probably include my friend Jill in that category.

As we while away the hours getting buzzed and laughing by the pool, I occasionally steal glances at my bartender. Has he noticed me at all? Doesn’t he regret giving me the brush-off earlier?

His sandy-colored hair continues to flop in his eyes, and his lazy grin only adds to his sex appeal. Not that I know anything about sex from experience, but I have a rich fantasy life. Since boys tend to view me as good-friend material rather than girlfriend material, I’ve racked up more imaginary boyfriends than I care to admit. I had really hoped to turn the tide during this vacation, with that bartender.

Despite his focus on his work, I see he still manages to flirt with all the beautiful girls. While I stare dreamily, he casts a sharp glance in my direction and catches me ogling him. An invisible bolt of electricity passes between us, or at least it feels that way to me. He cocks one brow up when he notices the drink in my hand, then shakes his head briefly before smiling at his next eager customer. Defeated, I pull my attention back to the teen scene and vow not to spy on him for the rest of the night.

After the midnight hoopla, a bunch of college kids around the pool decide to hit the beach, so Dave and I follow. Several, including Dave, wander into the cold water fully dressed, but I don’t want to ruin my new dress. Unlike one really drunk girl, I also won’t strip down to my undies, especially since I’m braless.

I rake my hands through the cool sand. The shrieks of those running in and out of the water catch my attention now and then. Sitting on the outside looking in, as usual, I’m losing steam.

The breeze picks up, scattering goose bumps across my arms. Growing depressed that nothing particularly interesting or exciting happened tonight, or any night on this trip, I’m ready to go back to my room and crawl into bed. I call out to Dave, but he’s not paying attention.

I guess I drank more than I realized, because I’m dizzy when I stand. I flop into one of the lounge chairs next to the cabana. I’ll lie here for a bit, until everything stops rocking, then go home. Hopefully, I’ll be able to sneak into the bungalow without waking my parents.

The stars sparkle like a million Swarovski crystals thrown against black velvet. I swear I see, and feel, the earth spinning on its axis. I’m studying Orion when the sound of someone striking a match nearby startles me. Sensing potential danger, my heart races. My head whirls around as I sit forward, and I stop breathing. The hot bartender is leaning against the cabana with a freshly lit cigarette.

“You scared me!” I shiver and clutch my stomach.

“Sorry,” he drawls. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Is the bar closed already?”

“I’m taking a break.” The red glow of the tip of his cigarette brightens when he inhales. “Long day.”