Page 30 of Inseverable (Carolina Beach)

Trin’s friends: Hale, Sean, and Mason, make it a point to hang out with me, sticking with me even when she flutters off with Becca or when her hostess duties demand her attention. They’re good guys, especially Hale who seems to have moved past the dick way I treated him.

He nudges me and motions to where Trin’s appeared with an old guitar. “Come on. It’s show time,” he says.

I hesitate, thinking he means for me to entertain them until I see everyone gathering around the fire pit and Sean reach for the guitar. “All right, what’ll it be?” he says.

About six people shout out requests. I sit and take another sip of my beer. Trin takes a seat next to me, catching me off guard when she wraps her arms around mine and rests her chin on my shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You having fun?” she asks.

“It’s all good,” I say.

It’s then I notice that guy?the one who’s been checking Trin out every time she passes?take a seat across from us. He flashes another approving smile as his stare travels down her body (yet again) like he can’t wait to get his hands on her.

It’s clear he’s into her. It’s also clear that by now, I want to beat his ass.

Men are possessive. It’s an innate trait that’s withstood the passage of time. Tonight’s no different, especially with this woman latched to my side.

“Who’s that?” I ask her.

The guy looks away when she glances ahead. “Hmm?”

“The guy in the red shirt,” I say, loud enough for him to hear me, and let him know that I know he’s looking at her even when it’s obvious she’s with me.

“Oh. I think his name is Davis. One of the new girls brought him. He’s her cousin or something. Why?”

I take another pull of my beer. “Just asking.”

Sean begins to strum the guitar. He’s good, real good, playing a nice rendition ofGive a Little Bit, that old Supertramp song. For a bunch of twenty year olds, they know all the classics. Maybe because they’re the ones best played on a guitar. Everyone joins in, except for me. I’m too captivated by Trin singing next to me. Her voice is sweet, tender?very unlike that awful way she was belting out that rap song the other day on the beach.

Three Dog Night’sNever Been to Spainis next. Trin knows that one, too, stopping between lyrics to grin up at me.

Sean continues to play, taking requests, but then people start taking turns singing by themselves.

“Hey,” that Davis guy calls at the end of a Brad Paisley song. “Mind if I have a go?” He’s asking Sean, but looking at Trin.

Sean shrugs. “I don’t give a shit.”

He sends the guitar around the circle so Davis can have it. I don’t realize how tight I’m balling my fists until my short nails dig into my palms hard enough to leave marks.

Now, not only does he pick Toby Keith’sGod Love Her, he pisses me off by singing it well?and singing it to my girl!

Okay, notmygirl. But damn it all, she’s sitting right next to me.

Trin doesn’t seem to notice, but Hale, Becca, Sean, and Mason, all exchange glances, not missing how I’m ready to pound the guy for being a disrespectful son of a bitch. He finishes to? get this?applausefrom the rest of the group.

With a wink, he stretches his arms out and offers me the guitar. “Want to give it a try there, partner?”

I didn’t come here to sing or fight, and while I’m leaning more toward the latter, I can’t disrespect Trin’s place. I yank the guitar with enough force to jerk him forward and meet him with a grin that’s nowhere near friendly. “Sure. Why the hell not?”

Trin relinquishes her hold and adjusts her position so she can see me better. I pause, taking in her encouraging smile, and how it lights up her face.

‘Cept as I fumble with the strap so it rests over my lap, and place my fingers on the right markers, I’m beginning to think I’m in way over my head. Not only becauseshe’swatching, but because everyone’s watching right along with her.

I do my best to ignore the whispers behind me, and the mutters from Davis who’s started laughing. For some reason playing something I learned by heart so many years ago is a lot harder than it should be. That said, I’ve taken long enough and need to get started. So I focus on the prettiest girl here. The one sitting directly in front of me, whose eyes remind me of a warm autumn day.

My fingers begin to move long before I’m fully prepared, strumming the first chords of Kenny Chesney’sAnything But Mine. Maybe I could’ve picked a better song, one that wasn’t about summer love. But like I said, men are possessive and I’ll be damned if I let a guy in plaid shorts and boat shoes show me up.

I start off slow, allowing the melody and my courage to build. With my next breath, I open my mouth and sing the first verse. “Walking along beneath the lights of that miracle mile, me and Mary making our way into the night…”

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