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“That’s not why I came over here.” He laughs, pushing his shades onto his head.
It’s Jeremiah, Easton’s teammate and best guy friend.
“You’re not twenty-one either,” I say. “You’re barely older than me.”
“That’s not the point.” He points to the bottle. “I’m smart enough to keep my alcohol in a water bottle so no one suspects anything. Bring your shit over to my tent so you won’t get kicked out.”
“What’s the catch?”
“There isn’t one.” He’s still smiling at me. “Unless you didn’t come here alone, that is. If you did, you have to promise to dance with me later.”
“She’s here withme.” Kevin suddenly appears at my side.” She’s my girlfriend.”
“I thought you were into guys.” Jeremiah raises an eyebrow.
“I’m into girlsandguys,” he says. “Unlike you, I don’t discriminate.”
“Right…” Jeremiah rolls his eyes. “Well, I take it you won’t want to come play with a few of my Ole Miss fraternity friends?”
“Of course not. I’m here to treat Scarlett to a romantic day at the beach…Is there a guy named James over there by chance?”
“There are four James over there.”
“Any of them gay?”
“Three of them.”
“Sold.” He grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet while Jeremiah grabs the handle of our cooler.
Completely lost in his own world, Kevin starts muttering to himself, saying, “Be cool, Kevin,” “Just be cool,” as if that’ll help calm his nerves in any way.
“Don’t take this personally,” I say to Jeremiah, “but I’ve always thought that you were a bit of a douchebag.”
“I can be.” He laughs. “No offense taken. Since we’re being honest, though, can I say what I’ve thought about you?”
“Let me guess, I’m a standoffish goth girl?”
“You’re a sexy as fuck goth girl.” He looks me over. “Of course, I’ve never tried to talk to you before today, so I can’t really vouch for ‘standoffish.’ I’ll let you know how I feel about that after tonight.”
“Are you coming onto me, Jeremiah?”
“Yes.” He laughs, slipping an arm around my waist. “Watch your step.”
I stumble as we hit a patch of rocks and keep my gaze straight ahead as we approach the oversized white tent.
There’s a row of beach chairs, a large cooler filled with “water bottles” and two tables set up for beer pong. I’m tempted to ask Jeremiah how he can afford to buy a tent this huge, but then I remember that his parents own every pool store in town.
“Allow me to make you a daiquiri,” he says, letting go of me. “You want pineapple or strawberry?”
“Strawberry.”
“Me too,” Kevin says.
While Jeremiah steps away, Kevin whispers, “If I hit it off with any of these guys, would you be willing to stay past sunset?”
“Of course.”
“Perfect! Oh, and don’t turn your head right now, but almost every guy at the beer pong table is staring at you.”
