The bar—Beachcombers, I notice it’s called this time—is even more crowded than it was last time we visited. It’s a good thing we’re a smaller group.
There’s no glimmer of panic as I push past people. No claustrophobia. No crush of confinement. I’m annoyed mostly by the slow progress toward the bar.
Several minutes later, we reach an open spot. Keira and I decide on mojitos while Tucker and Ryder order beers.
We cheers, me painfully aware of Ryder’s arm pressed against mine. It’s so packed in here that loss of personal space is an inevitability. But it’s still so overwhelming, being this close to him.
“Oh, hey!” Tuck says. “The signed Williams jersey. You never saw it last time, right?”
Ryder shakes his head.
“Come on. We’ll be right back, guys.”
Tucker and Ryder disappear into the crowd.
“Who?” I ask Keira.
“He’s a famous Red Sox player,” she tells me.
I lift an eyebrow, surprised she knows that. I guess her influence on Tucker hasn’t been one-sided.
“Keira?” a male voice says.
Keira and I both turn to face the man who spoke.
“Cash!” Keira exclaims. “It’s so nice to see you.”
“You too.” He gives her a quick hug.
Keira glances at me. “Oh, Elle! You remember Cash, don’t you?”
“I think so,” I say, shaking his offered hand. I don’t, not really. I must have met him when I was in college, and I’m guessing I was drunk at the time.
Cash flashes a wide smile at me, the sight almost blinding. “I definitely remember Elle.” His grin turns flirtatious. “Nice to see you again.”
“You too,” I reply.
“You ladies headed to the fireworks tomorrow night?”
“Of course,” Keira tells him.
“I’ve got a prime spot staked out. Right by the pier. You can’t beat the view over the water. Make sure you come check it out.”
“We’ll be a big group,” Keira warns.
“Everyone is welcome,” Cash assures her. “Plenty of space.”
“All right then. We’ll be there.”
“Here you guys are.” Tucker appears.
“Hey. I’m Cash.”
“Tucker.” Tucker shakes his hand.
“Where’s Ryder?” I blurt.
Everyone looks at me.