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“People mature early around here,” Eli says. He points to a spot on the patio tiles near the foot of the lounger. “Right there – that was where we had the bottle.”
I scoot up, the wine dancing happily in my stomach. “Here? And where were you two?”
Noah looks thoughtful. “I was sitting over there.” He points toward a long bench seat next to the outdoor table. “Next to Daphne. I had the biggest crush on her back then.”
“And you?” I ask Eli.
Eli leans into me. “I was sitting at your feet. Of course.” He sits on the concrete beside my lounger, his legs folded, his mouth curling up at the edge. “Mackenzie’s feet, I should say.”
We all look at Gabe. He grins. “I didn’t live in Emerald Beach, obviously. But I’ve definitely played my fair share of spin-the-bottle. And if I was here, I’d be sprawled out exactly where I am, taking up as much real estate as possible, thus increasing my chances of a snog.”
I punch him in the arm. Through the sadness, a hint of the real Gabe shines, like the first ray of sunlight after a violent storm.
Noah sets the empty bottle down on the tiles. We all stare at it.
“Ladies first,” Eli says, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.
I take the bottle and flick it with one hand. It spins in a few lazy circles. A thrill rips through me. I’ve never played spin-the-bottle, but I’ve seen it a hundred times in all those teen movies I watched ‘for research.’ And it always ends with an awkward teen makeout session, the kind of moment that makes me cringe while also pooling heat between my thighs.
I have a feeling our game is going to get significantly more R-rated.
The bottle lands on Eli. He swallows, and for a moment I see a flash of the boy he’d been the first time this game was played in this exact spot. Sporty, earnest, inexperienced, but trying to pretend he had everything under control.
It’s not my memory – it belongs to my sister, the one who got to go to normal school and have normal friends and normal birthday parties and be around this perfect guy, who spurned his love for her revenge plot. But it feels good to think of Eli as my childhood crush – the boy who still loves me from afar all those years. And fuck it, I never got to have those teen-movie experiences, and Mackenzie squandered hers with bitterness, so I’m happy to steal this part of her life from her.
Eli studies my face. “Did you know I kissed your sister that day?”
“I figured.”
“I had to kiss three other girls and Noah before the bottle landed on her,” he shrugs. “I thought I was the luckiest guy.”
Before I can ask some pertinent questions about this kiss with Noah, Eli kisses me, all slow and deep and oh so sweet. He rests his lips against mine, giving me a moment to feel the softness of them, to experience that wild teenage thrill of wondering if he’d try something, before he slips his tongue between my lips. Gently, oh-so-gently he pushes me open and tastes me.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach. It’s so weird that after all the times I’ve kissed Eli, all those filthy nights where we’ve explored every inch of each other’s bodies, he can make a single kiss feel new and exciting and wonderful.
I don’t want our kiss to ever end, but that’s not the game. Eli pulls back, his eyes closed. The air around us sizzles with unspoken truths, with promises and vows left unfinished. Gabriel and Noah watch us as a palpable heat thickens the air.
“Your turn, Hart,” Noah says, his voice catching.
“Aren’t we just making Claudia spin again?” Eli asks. “She’s the one who missed out on this teenage rite of passage.”
“Now, now, Captain America,” Gabe waggles a finger. “You know those aren’t the rules. Maybe you’ll get lucky and you’ll be able to tongue-fuck Noah again, now that he’s all grown up.”
Eli bites his lip as he spins. The bottle careens across the tiles as it spins, hits the leg of the lounger, and jerks to a stop facing Gabriel.
“Hey, the bottle hit the chair leg. I call a foul—mmmmmph.” Eli’s protests are stifled by Gabriel’s lips on his. Eli tries to scramble away, but Gabriel holds him tight, the way I imagine he used to hold Dylan. I cheer, because seeing Eli bamboozled is completely adorable and okay, maybe I’m not a great ally by fetishizing my bisexual boyfriend for my own enjoyment, but I feel what I feel and my pussy clenches at the sight of Gabriel clearly enjoying his tongue down another guy’s throat.
Noah laughs so hard his face goes red. Eli manages to wrestle Gabriel off him.
“Dude, that was your tongue.” Eli grabs the wine from Noah and gargles, spitting onto the grass.
Gabriel leans back beside me on the lounger, his fingers playing innocently with the hem of my dress. He looks pleased with himself. “Homophobe much?”
“Not a homophobe,” Eli says with force. “But that is way more of you than I ever wanted inside my body, thank you very much. Consent is important, you asshole.”
Gabriel smirks at Eli as he picks up the bottle. He turns to Noah and waggles his tongue piercing in his direction. “Pucker up, buttercup. I’m coming for you next.”
Noah looks so visibly horrified I burst out laughing. They may be in a polyamorous relationship, but Noah and Eli still sometimes don’t know how to handle Gabriel’s bisexuality, especially since we all know Gabe would happily fuck both of them and make them love it.
