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And I wonder if I’ll ever leave.
28
FIRST DESERVE, THEN DESIRE
BRANT, AGE 25
“Let’s play shoulder wars.” Her face glistens with water droplets, her long hair soaking wet and draped down her back. June’s arms rest along the edge of the inground pool, her chin propped up on top of them as she sends me a stunning smile.
I try to ignore the way she looks at me like I’m the only one here, even though there’s a sea of people mingling around me. “You mean a chicken fight?”
“No…shoulder wars. You know, when someone is on your shoulders fighting another person on somebody else’s shoulders.”
“So, a chicken fight.”
Kip speaks up beside me in his wooden lawn chair, nursing a beer. “It’s a chicken fight.”
“You’re both crazy,” June says, jumping out of the water and trailing over to me in the grass. “It’s literally a war battled upon shoulders. There are no chickens.”
My muscles lock up as she approaches, clad in only a pink polka-dotted bikini as rivulets of water trickle over her skin, causing her to glisten under the sun.
I chug my beer.
When Kip invited us to a pool party at his new place, it was a welcome reprieve from my seven-day work stretch between the restaurant and the club.
A Saturday off? Almost unheard of these days, which hasn’t exactly been a bad thing. Working myself to utter exhaustion has kept me sane. Kept me progressing, moving forward, one chocolate soufflé and lemon-drop martini at a time.
But the long hours on my feet have been getting to me, so when Pauly ordered me to take a weekend off, I humbly accepted. My bills are paid, my savings account is growing, and I honestly couldn’t think of a good reason to say no.
Especially today, when the late summer sun is shining hot and bright, music and laughter are serenading me, and my good friend Kip is seated beside me, filling me in on his latest drug bust.
The grill is hot.
The beer is cold.
And then there’s June—
In a barely there bikini.
She appears oblivious to her own perfection as she rings out her sopping hair, her light skin already pinkening beneath the unforgiving sun.
Kip has his phone pulled out and is aimlessly scrolling, head down.
Good.
I’d probably club him if I caught him gawking at her.
Taking another sip of beer, I try to keep my eyes from dipping below her face. “I don’t know why it’s called that. It just is.”
“Well, do you want to play? You and me versus Kip and Celeste.”
Kip’s head snaps up. “Oh…uh, I’m good. I think I aged out of that about ten years ago.”
Celeste is in town for two weeks for something family-related, so June invited her to the pool party with us. Kip was fine with it as long as the girls didn’t drink.
I shake my head, in agreement with Kip but for entirely different reasons. June squirming atop my shoulders in her tiny bikini bottom sounds catastrophic. “Sorry, but I’m going to pass, too.”
“You’re no fun. How about—” June is closing in on me, smelling of chlorine and coconut sunscreen, when Celeste steals her attention from the edge of the pool.
