Okay, this pose and the next ones require enough strength and concentration that I don’t have much time left for dirty thoughts. Still, already compared to yesterday, Summer’s and my movements seem to be much more fluid. Like we already have that extra confidence in each other. Is that why she bailed this morning? Was spending the night in each other’s arms too much? And why? We agreed this thing between us was a week-only deal. So, is she afraid we’re getting too close? Is she getting too close? It wouldn’t be the first time a woman I’d agreed to have a casual relationship with wanted more.
And, then, out of nowhere, the scariest thought I’ve ever had pops into my head: what if I wanted more?
The idea distracts me, making me lose concentration and causing my legs to wobble. Which, in turn, causes Summer to tumble down on top of me, her face ridiculously close to my groin. She stares up at me, shocked at first. Then, when she realizes where her pretty head is, her expression turns to embarrassment.
“Are you all right over there?” I ask.
Summer blushes and scrambles back, sitting on her heels.
Miranda comes next to us. “Is everyone okay?” she asks, and when we both nod, she adds, “It’s perfectly normal to fall a few times when you’re trying out these new poses for the first time. Class, I think we’re done for today. How about a final stretch before I let you go have breakfast?”
Good, I think. A cool down is exactly what I need right now.
Once the class is over, I almost expect Summer to walk off, leaving me behind like she did yesterday. But she lingers instead, and we walk together toward the breakfast room. To an outsider, our attitudes would come across as completely innocent, but, again, the shift compared to yesterday morning, when all Summer wanted to do was to shake me off, is incredible. Now she doesn’t have a problem being at the croissants table at the same time as I am, brushing her shoulder against mine. At the coffee machine, she lets me lean into her from behind, my chest pressed to her back, as I reach for the creamer. Yesterday, she would’ve bolted like a startled deer.
We sit at the same table as yesterday, with the same companions. But again, Summer’s stance couldn’t be any more different. Instead of trying to avoid my gaze at all costs, she gives me flirty eyes from across the table for the whole meal.
It’s the sweetest torture. Makes me want to skip the stag snooze fest—err… party—and bring her back to my room. She knows it, and she knows I can’t, and she’s messing with me, playing a little game of hide and seek.
We all get up to leave together, exiting the breakfast room and then lingering in the hotel’s lobby. Tucker swears; he’s forgotten his phone at the table and goes back to pick it up.
The bride and groom take the opportunity to kiss goodbye before a day of forced separation. With Winter and Logan distracted, I seize the moment and return the teasing favor to Summer.
I pull her behind a corner and press her against the wall. It’s a risky move. Anyone could walk by and spot us, but the danger of being caught makes it all the more exciting. I lean in closer, my lips a breath away from hers. I sneak a hand onto her neck, my thumb caressing the skin behind her ear in that way I discovered makes her moan every single time. She has to bite her lip not to now.
Aha, before starting to play the game she should’ve remembered I practically invented it.
Never kissing her, I whisper, “I guess I’ll see you later,” and walk away toward the elevators just as Logan and Winter break their kiss. Tucker still hasn’t returned, and Logan and I agree to wait for him.
Summer turns the corner after me and follows her sister into the first available elevator, looking adorably flustered: swollen lips, pink cheeks, and big eyes filled with desire.
I’m congratulating myself for winning this round when she, eyes never leaving mine, slowly tilts her head backward in a seductive gesture while her hands reach up to untie her ponytail. Her long hair cascades down her shoulders in a mesmerizing effect just as her lips part a little. It’s a show, all for my benefit. One second before she disappears behind the elevator doors, her parted lips curl up in an evil little grin, leaving me burning in hell.
Eleven
Summer
The phantom of Archie’s lips is still on mine as I enter my room, and he hasn’t even kissed me. The way he pressed me against the wall left my body itching all over, and the worst part is I will have to wait all day to scratch.
To relax the lust a little, I spend forever in the shower and, when I exit, I comb my hair in a plait while it’s still damp. Since we were kids, Winter and I learned this is the most effective hairstyle to go riding. Leaving your hair loose to catch the wind at a gallop might be scenic, but brushing the knots afterward is a total bitch. Not worth the spectacle.
For the same reason, I wear a pair of stretch jeans, a comfy J. Crew V-neck sweater, and sporty ankle boots—the best alternative to proper riding boots. For a ride, it’s always best to wear shoes with small heels so they catch on the stirrups and my feet won’t slip through.
Lana preemptively texted us hens to come to the bachelorette in sporty casual clothes, and I hope everyone listened. A riding ground might seem like an odd location to host a bachelorette party. But since coming back from Thailand, my sister hasn’t stopped complaining about how we never go riding anymore since Grandpa passed. So, Lana and I thought this would be the perfect occasion. Not to mention that hairy, four-legged studs will make Winter happier than any stripper ever could.
I finish getting ready well before the designated departure hour, but wait until the very last second to exit my room. Today, I won’t be able to avoid bumping into my ex-friends, but I’ll still try to delay the inevitable as much as I can, and plan to cut the interactions as short as possible.
Gosh, I need another coffee. I brew myself a cup, smiling as I remember doing the same for Archie a few hours ago. When I’m out of time and excuses to stay hidden in my room, I move down to the lobby.
The bachelorette party bus is already waiting outside and hard to miss. The vehicle is thirty feet long and painted in a rather distinctive bubble-gum pink. Lana outdid herself. I would’ve never thought of renting something so obnoxiously fun. Heck, I didn’t even know they made pink buses.
A familiar pang of regret twists my chest. And for a moment I cannot breathe, remembering once again all the pain I caused Lana. Mourning the friendship that will never be the same, even after she’s forgiven me. My face heats with shame like it does whenever I think about Johnathan and the affair. I hate what I did, I’d give anything to go back in time and change it. But I can’t. The guilt will haunt me until I die. All I can do is own my mistakes, take the lesson home, and do better in the future.
Just as these thoughts writhe furiously inside my head, I lift my gaze and meet Daria’s cold stare for the first time since The Mistake. Her mouth curls up in a vicious smile, while she gives me a brief, one-handed wave, saying, “Oh, so you’re really here. Haven’t seen you around much.”
Susan is at her side, foaming at the mouth to see how I’ll react.
I could wave back and disappear inside the bus, but what’s the point? I can’t avoid them forever.