“Yeah,” I say to Brooke, “that sounds fun. I’ll try it.”
She beams. “That’s the spirit!”
The four boys go into the liquor store, and I peer back to make sure they aren’t looking and can’t hear me before facing Brooke. “How do they buy alcohol if they’re underage?”
She smirks. “Reed has a fake ID.”
I nod, heat creeping up my cheeks at the mention of his name. Brooke slaps my shoulder, tossing her hair over her shoulder. There are only traces of purple on her lips, most of the color worn from eating. “You like Reed.”
“What?” I balk, rearing back a bit with an audible psh. “I don’t.”
She levels her eyes on me. “Vivienne Marie Lane,” she deadpans, “yes you do.”
I erupt in laughter. “My name is not Vivienne Marie Lane.”
She giggles, too. “I know. But I don’t know your full name but this was a full name moment because youtotallywant Reed.” She leans in, lowering her voice. “You want Reed to pop your cherry,” she taunts playfully.
At just the mention, though it’s conversation, teasing and definitely not erotic, my groin pulses. When I glance insidethe store and catch a glimpse of Reed, my breasts ache and my nipples harden. I swallow my mouth full of saliva and turn back to Brooke. I lied to dad and Maribel, but I’m not going to lie to Brooke.
“He’s so hot, and I think he keeps looking at me. Have you seen him looking at me or am I totally just completely self-involved and delusional?”
Brooke looks at Reed then back to me. “He totally wants you. I’ve never seen Reed look at anyone the way he’s been looking at you.”
“Maybe I’ll sit by him at the bonfire,” I say, testing the idea on Brooke because I don’t know if I’m on base or not.
She nods. “Yes, sit by him, have a drink, enjoy the sunset and… just see what happens.”
I smile. “I’m glad we met. I mean I know we’ve only been friends for a few hours but honestly, thank you. Moving senior year sucks, but you’re helping.”
Brooke wraps me in a hug. “I can already tell we’re gonna be besties, even if we go to different schools.”
The boys filter out of the store, a plastic bag hanging from one of Reed’s hands, an eighteen pack of beer dangling from the other.
“Bonfire time,” Brooke beams.
Around eight,I text my dad and Maribel that we’re at Brooke’s place, she’s showing me her shoe collection and we’re listening to music. Dad doesn’t reply, but Maribel tells me to have fun, and that it’s Friday night, and there’s no rush to get home.
Guilt eats at me when I stare at the text message. So many lies in one day after so many years without any. A breeze rolls in off the water, tossing strands of hair across my eyes. I burrow my feet deeper in the sand despite its coolness, because I like the way it feels. The bonfire heat laps at my calves, and radiates over my face.
“Bad conversation?” The two words rumble through me, and I look up to see Reed in the low-slung seat next to me, the flames dancing in his glasses. He takes them off, stuffing them in the breast pocket of his faded t-shirt.
My stomach clenches at his proximity. He is one of those guys that you could call beautiful. He could be a model, or a movie star. Muscled arms, sharp jaw, golden hair–he’s absolutely the most handsome, beautiful man I’ve ever met. It’s hard to believe he’s only twenty with such a disciplined, built physique. The pulsing between my thighs intensifies as he moves his chair flush against mine. Our knees brush, and arousal blooms at my seam. I’m shamelessly horny, and with two beers in me, I’m also very buzzed.
I shove my phone away, focusing only on Reed.
“I lied to my dad. I told him I was going to Brooke’s but I came here instead.”
Boldly, Reed reaches over, peeling a piece of my hair from my lips, where it was stuck in gloss. His blue eyes trace the cupid’s bow on my upper lip before finally lifting to meet my gaze. “I get it,” he says, his voice raw, the soft crushing waves in the distance a beautiful contrast to his roughness.
“Yeah?” I ask, ignoring the dull laughter from the other side of the bonfire. “You lie about where you are tonight?”
His full lips pull into a small but intoxicating grin. “I’ve been lying about where I’ve been all weekend,” he says. “Butsee? I’m not stealing cars or selling drugs. And neither are you.”
“Nope,” I say, taking the vodka bottle that Brooke passes me, her focus on Alexander. With my eyes on Reed’s, I take a drink, and pass it to him. He takes a drink, too, and our eyes idle together with an intensity I know isn’t in my head. He passes the bottle to Fabian, then says, “sometimes, parents are better off with a lie than the truth, because the reality they create in their heads can be scary.”
At that comment, I smirk, because if I told my dad I was going to a bonfire on the beach with a bunch of people I’d never met until today, he’d freak out. He’d warn me about sex trafficking, drowning, and god only knows what else.
But I've had my feet in the sand for the last hour, and no one around this circle has so much as said a single curse word.
