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“Yeah, he was very sweet. Remember he was going to school to be an elementary school teacher?” Gem said to Bronte, and then to Sam, “I assume all three brothers are good people, huh?”
“Yeah,” she said, attempting to grab the phone from Gem’s hand, but Laney got it instead. “Ha, look. He followed me back.”
“Oh my god.” Sam covered her face with her hands. “He’s going to know we were talking about him.”
“So?” Bronte reached for Sam’s abandoned float. “You did ask Laney for help. Of course we’re talking about him.”
“Yeah, but not, like… That’s… It’s not… I don’t…”
Laney pushed her index finger to the center of Sam’s forehead. “Power reset.”
She slapped at her friend, frowning, and Laney’s laughter echoed around them.
“You know, it’s okay to admit you have feelings for the guy,” Bronte said.
Gem had her phone out too. “Followed.”
“I don’t have feelings for him,” Sam said.
“Sure you do.” Gem saluted her with the champagne. “Coming from a fellow commitment-phobe, I get it. And it’s okay. It’s scary, but the first step is admitting your feelings.”
Sam stole the bottle from her. “Har har.”
Bronte gasped in delight, folding her hands together. “You should invite him to the wedding.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” Laney got out of the pool and went into the house through the sliding door, leaving it open so she could yell, “A few days on a private island to have your wicked way with him, why wouldn’t you?”
“I haven’t had my wicked way with him yet.”
“You haven’t?” Gem asked, holding out her phone screen so they could see the photo on it. It must have been from a few years ago. Mike wore fatigues, his muscles on display with his tight green shirt.
“That’s not like you, Miss Hit It and Quit It,” Laney said, returning with what looked suspiciously like Sam’s phone.
“We’ve done other stuff, though,” Sam rushed out, covering her tracks. “And don’t you dare, Delaney.”
“Too late.” She grinned and tossed the phone to Sam, her Instagram up to Mike’s profile. She was now following him. “Ah, shit.” She downed some champagne as an alert came in that @mewing417 followed her back.
“Well, come on. Let’s give him something to look at. Smile, Sammy.” Laney held her own phone up, positioning it for a selfie of the four of them.
Gem with the champagne bottle high in the air.
Bronte in the midst of hiding the light-up penis tiara.
Sam shaking her head.
And Laney grinning.
16
Mike sat in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Samantha was scheduled to be home tomorrow, but his impatience made it impossible to sleep. Especially after he repeatedly flipped through her social media posts. In an unexpected turn of events, as he was watching TV late Thursday night, his phone had gone off with multiple notifications. He had new followers on Instagram, someone named Delaney Hargrove, who had thousands of followers and looked like a movie star, another named Gemma Mitchell, who mostly posted information about a yoga studio and vegan meals, and finally, Sam. Obviously, they were her friends, and as much as he enjoyed that her friends were now sort of his acquaintances, their photos were cruel.
He couldn’t stop staring at them, at Sam’s smile. There were the pictures of the group hugging at the airport, of them laughing as they popped champagne, another of them all lounging around a pool at night, and one of Sam in an aggressively short gold dress with her brightly colored hair curled and lips painted red. He’d gone back to that one again and again.
He tried to avoid the videos of her taking shots and dancing with random guys, but some masochistic tendency had him studying her posture to see how comfortable she was. He visualized other men with their hands on her hips, her legs, her ass, and heat pooled in his chest. It was absurd to feel like he had some kind of claim on her. But there it was.
Totally absurd.
