Page 14 of Until We Kiss

All of us are going different ways, I guess.

Not that I know where I’m going.

We step under the first tent, and my eyes relax in the dim interior.

“What can I get you?” A guy behind the bar speaks in an accent I can’t place. I still, my heart clattering to a halt, my feet following.

Tattoos decorate the backs of his hands and curve along his forearms, over his shoulders to color his neck.

I can’t even sort out what I’m thinking. I just know that my eyes want to take all of him in, an inch at a time, all the way down to what’s hidden behind the bar. Although I doubt he would have those thighs like Carter, sticking out from his banana shorts, that flick of a dimple whenever he?—

Why the fuck am I thinking aboutCarter?

I shove Carter to the back of my head, except he doesn’t go. He stays there in my thoughts, flinging out some jazz hands at the excitement of trying a new drink. Like how he is, I guess. Exuberant and loud and drawing all sorts of attention to himself.

“You good, mate?” The tattooed guy leans forward, his elbows falling on the bar, his voice with an edge of rasp.

“Ah…” I clear my throat. Rory’s talking to another bartender, ordering some kind of icy pink drink. I nod toward it. “One of those things, I guess.”

His brow arches. “A Pink Monstrosity?”

My mouth is dry. “That, ah, okay.”

“A’lrighty.” His eyes flick down, down, down. And then they linger. There is no fucking questionwhatthey’re lingering on. My cock twitches in response. He smiles. “One coming right up, handsome.”

He turns away from the bar, and I blink at his “Beach Hut” tank.

That was so fuckingblatant.

Rory leans on the bar next to me.

Shit. Did hesee?

The bartender turns back and then sets a huge pink-filled cup in front of me. “This one’s on the house.”

“I can pay.” In my periphery, I’m hotly aware of Rory.

The bartender smiles, not seeming all that interested in helping anyone else or responding to my statement about paying. “Are you here on spring break?”

“Yep.”

“How long?”

“Four days.”

He tips his chin. “You should stop by again.”

“I should?” The dryness in my mouth is spreading to my throat.

“For sure.” He winks. “Ask for Maxim.”

I struggle to breathe. Struggle to realize that I’m still standing there.

I get a flash of images racing through my head. My fingers tugging at the tie of his shorts, his dark eyes on me, lips parting.

“You’re so damn perfect, Theo.”

Jesus,Carter. His voice is so damn cock-blockingloudin my head.

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