I sat up in the lounger, folding my legs, wrapping my arms around my stomach. “I know you’re not, but trust me, I assessed the situation, and I was completely safe.”
“Promise me you won’t do that again?” She grabbed her pink drink and downed half the glass. “You know, unless I’m with you and I can give him my seal of he won’t murder my best friend approval.”
I grinned. “Promise.”
She set the cup down. “Now that we’ve got that settled, tell me everything.” She glanced toward the pool, where Lex and Courtney were standing in the shallow end, talking to two guys. “Unless you want to wait for them? You know you’ll have to repeat all of this the second they get out.”
“It’s fine.” I lifted her drink, holding it against my cheek, still feeling flushed from Jenner. “Monica, all it took was a flirty conversation. I think we were talking about neckties—I don’t even know—and I was suddenly a puddle at his feet. That’s how magical that man is.”
“Tying you up? Okay, that’s way hot.” The waitress walked by, and Monica ordered two more of the drinks I was still holding against my face. “So, did he?”
I sighed. “No, but I was mentally tied to him in every possible way. He knew my body, like he’d been studying it for years. And he made me feel things”—I shook my head—“things I’d never felt down there or anywhere before.”
“I’m literally shook right now.” Her eyes widened. “You’re not the girl who sleeps with a dude on the first date—or even the third, never mind a man you knew for twelve seconds.”
“It was more like fifteen minutes.”
“That’s not the point we’re going to debate right now.” She rolled her eyes. “I really need to get over the fact that my best friend was having mind-blowing sex while I was fighting with Lex and Court over what bathing suit I should wear because we all ironically chose the same color and that’s just a pool day no-no.”
I touched her greasy, suntan-oiled arm. “You know when you stare into the eyes of a man, and in a single second, a jolt comes through your body that tells you he owns every ounce of you? And no matter how hard you try to fight it, he’s going to win you?”
“No.” She shook her head for extra effect. “I’ve never experienced that in my life. Hotness, yes. Sexiness, yes. Drunk sex, unfortunately, yes. But a man owning any part of me? That’s where you lost me.”
I laughed. “Remember this moment. When it happens, this conversation is going to make much more sense, and then you’ll tell me how right I am.”
She grabbed the two drinks off the waitress’s tray and handed me one, taking back her previous cocktail, which I’d just downed. “So, what now? Will you ever see him again? Where does he even live?”
Her questions had weight, and I felt the heaviness of each one. “LA.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“I gave him my number. Who knows? Maybe he’ll reach out. Or maybe I just had the best sex of my life and—” My voice cut off when my cell vibrated from the table between us. I’d forgotten that I’d even set it there.
I glanced at the screen.
Unknown: It’s Jenner … I can still taste you.
I looked up just as Monica said, “It’s him, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “I think I just died.” I held the phone toward her, showing her the message.
“Damn … I think I just died too.”
“How the hell do I respond to that?”
She grinned. “You know exactly what to say to that man.” She nodded toward my phone. “You have some serious magic too. Now, go work it, girl.”
“All right, wish me luck.”
Me: I can still feel you inside me.
Jenner: I want to taste you again.
Me: Yeah? How badly?
Monica cleared her throat. “Jesus, you’re glowing.” I gazed up at her as she added, “I mean, legit fucking glowing. Like you used a highlighter instead of bronzer.”
I touched my cheek with the back of my hand. “I don’t have any makeup on.”
“You have him on you—that’s as good as concealer.” She took a sip of her drink. “What’s he saying?”
“That he wants to taste me again.”
“And?”
My glasses were still at the end of my nose, and I pushed them higher on my face. “And I asked him how badly.”
“Ooh, that’s good.”
Jenner: Badly enough that I can’t wait until tomorrow.
Jenner: My room. 7 tonight.
Monica had made us dinner reservations for eight thirty, which gave me time for a quickie.
If Jenner even knew what a quickie was.
Me: You have me until 8.
Jenner: I’ll take every second I can get.
“So?” Monica said the second I set down my phone.
I picked up my drink and rested it against my chest, needing to cool down again. “I’m going to his room before dinner. Don’t worry; I won’t be late.”
“You’re getting the D; you can be as late as you want. We’ll get you a to-go dinner if we need to since I know how hangry you get.”
I looked toward the girls in the pool, watching them flirt with complete strangers who were eyeing my friends like candy. “What am I doing?” My stare connected with Monica’s. “Really, what in the fucking hell am I doing?”
“You’re having fun.” She leaned back in her chair, hands linked under her head, arms spread wide. “And you’re getting some ass.” She laughed. “Which is something you’ve needed for a while.”
“Thanks … dick.”
“Listen, I’m just speaking the truth, and we both know it.” She paused to watch two guys walk by, both handsome, but neither had anything on Jenner. “How long is he here for?”
I couldn’t remember at what point he’d told me, but I recalled him answering that question, so I said, “He’s here for the rest of the week.”
Which was the same as us.
“One check in the hell yes box.” She clinked her glass against mine. “What else do you know about him?”
I sucked in a deep breath. “He’s a lawyer, he lives in LA, he’s here with friends and a brother or two.”
Her face was like the heart-eyes emoji. “A lawyer? I just died—again.”
“And he probably has a good ten years on me, maybe more.”
She sat up and faced me, crossing her legs. “Age is hot. It makes him experienced; it makes him established and successful and independent—things we can’t say about any of the fools we go to college with.”
“That’s definitely true.”
She leaned forward, squeezing my knee. “You need to promise that you won’t get shit-faced and end up married and wake up the next morning, not remembering a damn thing. I’ve seen far too many movies like that.” She looked up at the sky, like she was entering dreamland. “I already know how I’m going to design my maid-of-honor gown and every ruffle and piece of satin that’s going to go on it, and I won’t settle for an Elvis drive-through at three in the morning, somewhere off the Strip.”