Page 87 of Still Love You

I laugh at the way he says it, all annoyed with me.

"Hold this." I hand him my plate and swing my legs over the lounge chair so that we're sitting on the same side. "The chair's going to tip over with all our weight on this side."

"Stop complaining." He hands me my plate.

"I wasn't complaining." I laugh and I can't stop.

Silas takes my plate back before I drop it. "Are you drunk?"

"I might have had a teeny tiny sip of a margarita."

"And by 'teeny tiny sip' you mean one big cup?"

"Maybe two?" I take the burger from the plate he's holding and bite into it. "Mmm, that's really good."

He gives me the plate again. "Eat some more of it. You need to sober up."

"Why? I'm more fun when I'm drunk." I stuff a few chips in my mouth.

"You're always fun. When you're drunk you get flirty and that's not a good thing when you're surrounded by drunk guys looking for action." 

"I'm not drunk." I take a bite of my burger and ketchup drips out.

He laughs. "You're a mess." He puts his thumb on the side of my mouth, wiping away the ketchup. I swipe my tongue over his thumb, licking it off. He holds his thumb there and our eyes meet and I lick his thumb again, slower this time. And suddenly, it's just him and me sharing a moment. A steamy hot, I-want-to-rip-off-your-clothes-and-do-you-right-here moment.

Someone jumps in the pool and splashes us. Silas and I both move back and the moment is gone.

We go back to eating our food. His phone dings and he checks it, then looks up and waves at someone. I glance over to see who it is and find it's the girl he was talking to earlier. The one in the white bikini.

"Who's that?" I ask before I can stop myself.

"Anya," he says, picking up his soda and taking a drink.

"Like the singer?"

"No, that's Enya. This is Anya."

"That's an odd name."

He smiles. "Willow? Silas? She could say the same thing about us."

"Our names aren't that odd. Anya is odd."

"I like it. I've always liked it."

Always?So he's heard that name before?

"Did she text you just now?" I ask.

"Yeah. We're meeting for coffee on Monday."

"In the morning?"

"No. We're going at night."

"Oh." This is really hard. I need to act happy for him. Be a friend. He found a pretty girl to date and I'm sure she's very nice. So why do I hate her? I force out a smile. "Well, that's a good first date. Coffee. Gives you time to get to know each other."

"It's not a first date." He sets his plate aside and wipes his hands on his napkin. "I dated Anya back in high school before you and I were going out."

---