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I sigh, silently agreeing with my conscience.
13
SUMMER
Tonight the bachelor and bachelorette parties are supposed to merge.Yay!The resort has cordoned off a wide area near the pool and reserved it for the wedding party. The weather is playing along, making it okay, with the help of a few strategically placed patio heaters, to eat outdoors. Dinner is going to be self-serve, and the menu is all things barbecue: steaks, hamburgers, hot dogs, ribs, grilled chicken, and vegetable shish kebabs. There’s even a seafood station with grilled shrimp and salmon. The various grilling stations are assembled in a semicircle at the end of the patio, and each has its dedicated cook while baskets of French fries are being brought outside from the indoor kitchen.
A server with a round, heavy-looking tray offers me a basket, and I gladly take it.
Biting down on a fry, I search the crowd for Archie. Same as I used to do back in high school when I had a secret crush on David Montgomery and spent every minute searching the halls, cafeteria, and any other common space for him. Just seeing David would mark whether my day had been a great one or a complete waste of time. If we crossed ways in the halls, I’d get butterflies. If I sat at a table next to his in the cafeteria and was able to overhear some of his conversations with his friends, I’d become so ecstatic I wouldn’t touch any food.
Sadly, David and I never kissed. Heck, he never even talked to me. David was a senior, and I was a freshman; he graduated the next year and disappeared from my life forever. But tonight, not only will I get to talk to my crush, and to kiss him as many times as I want, we’ll touch all the bases. I only have to be patient. My toes curl in anticipation. Archie and I haven’t been naked together since yesterday afternoon; more than a day, and definitely too long.
I keep scanning the crowd, but no sign of the best man. Instead, I spot my sister and Logan seated at one of the round tables, plates loaded with food already in front of them. Shortly afterward, Lana and Tucker also join them. My best bet is to sit with them and hope Archie will do the same, just like at breakfast, recreating the unofficial wedding party table. A perfect way for Archie and me to have dinner together without being conspicuous.
As I navigate the mass of guests cramming the patio, I’m a lot calmer than I would have been a few days ago. I’ve apologized to Daria, and even if my words fell on deaf ears, I tried. I also don’t care as much as I used to about what people think of me. The Mistake, if nothing else, has forced me to take a hard look at my life. I thought I had a solid circle of friends, but when it all came tumbling down, only two people were left by my side: Winter and, ironically enough, Lana—the person who should’ve thrown me to the wolves and was the first to forgive me instead.
I grab a cold beer from an ice bucket and join my sister’s table.
“Hey,” I say. “The grill smells amazing. What are you guys having?”
Chewing down a bite of hamburger, my sister says, “I’m having everything. The ribs are divine, and this hamburger is unbelievable.” Winter licks a bit of BBQ sauce off her fingers and promptly takes another enormous chomp.
I smile to myself. I love that my sister is not one of those brides obsessed about being a size zero, and that she hasn’t lost her appetite because of the upcoming nuptials. Plus, the cheeses and cold cuts we had for lunch at the ranch, while tasteful and curated, lacked in quantity—especially after a day spent outdoors.
Famished, I move to the back of the line for the grills and grab an empty plate from the stash near the first station, my stomach grumbling in anticipation. I load my plate with a bit of everything and turn, ready to go back to the table.
That’s when I see him.
Archie is standing on the threshold, between the big French doors leading outside from within the hotel. The patio is three steps down from those doors, granting me an unobstructed view of Archie in his raised position. He’s looking chill in a plaid short-sleeved button-down shirt and white cargo shorts.
Honestly, he’s just missing a shark-teeth necklace to be the perfect Surfer Boy, another great fantasy of mine. I add the image to my mental catalog of his outfits, undecided on what guise is my favorite. Probably still the one that doesn’t require any clothes.
His eyes search the crowd, moving over the heads of the people assembled below until they finally come to rest on me. When he spots me, his entire face brightens up in an open smile, and my empty stomach has its usual reaction and promptly explodes with butterflies, making those I used to experience for David Montgomery feel like amateur hour.
Archie cuts through the throng of people, heading straight for me, and only stops a step short when the giant plate loaded with meat standing between us forces him to. It’s good I’m holding this thing in my hands or I would’ve thrown my arms around his neck already and blown our cover.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey, yourself.”
I inch the plate toward Logan and Winter’s table. “I’m sitting with my sister over there.”
“I’ll grab some food and come join you.”
I nod, and am about to brush past him when he leans down and whispers in my ear, “Nice dress, by the way.”
A cold shiver spider walks down my spine while my face heats up. I’ll admit I made a bit more of an effort than I usually would for a casual barbecue evening. I’m wearing a white sundress with a pineapple print, not exactly vintage, but with a retro, elegant feel. The dress has a V neckline and is sleeveless; it ties behind the neck in a bow it took me twenty minutes to shape in perfect symmetry. The skirt is wide and knee-length, while the waist is tight for that great fit-flare silhouette effect that flatters my figure. My hair is arranged atop my head in a deceivingly messy giant bun I spent half an hour sculpturing—I call it the Hepburn. To complete the outfit, I’ve put on killer-heel strappy sandals. I went easy on the makeup only because I don’t want to leave it all smeared on Archie’s pillow later tonight. Instead, I pampered my skin with a gentle scrub and a facial mask, and I’m only wearing a layer of transparent mascara and ChapStick.
But the hungry way Archie keeps looking at me throughout dinner makes me feel as beautiful as if a professional had done my makeup. Being in public with him when we can’t kiss or touch or do anything other than play with subtle stares is an unbearable form of torture. And dinner tonight is no different.
We spend the whole evening eye-flirting with each other in what is an hours-long, hands-off foreplay session. I don’t pay much attention to what everyone else is saying; it’s mostly anecdotes from the day. Half of them I already know from personal experience, and the other half is not as interesting or amusing enough to tear my concentration away from Archie’s lips. From his sizzling, icy stare. From those big hands…
I’m desperately trying to find a polite way to leave as soon as all the plates are empty when Tucker gives everyone the perfect excuse.
“Guys,” he says, standing up and stretching his arms. “I’m super tired. I’m calling it an early night.”
“Are you sure?” Logan asks. “We can sleep in tomorrow; nothing but a spa day ahead.”
