Page 17 of Seas the Dating Coach

“Care for a drink?”

I nod, much too aggressively. Any second now, my head will pop off my body and roll on the floor, ruining the effort I put into my half-up style. “Rosé, please.”

While the man orders for me, I turn slightly to give Finn a shaky thumbs up.

He’s chatting with a leggy blonde whodoes notthink heels are the devil. Can those even be categorized as heels? Stilts, more likely. Her core strength must be insane.

When Finn’s gaze snags on mine, I decide to make the gesture overt, lifting my raised thumb to my shoulder.

I’m fine. This will all be fine. I will not die talking to a stranger. And if I do keel over, I’m pretty sure Mr. Librarian Bodyguard could scoop me off the floor with little difficulty.

The man beside me laughs again. It’s a nice sound, bright and throaty. “Letting him know you’re okay?”

I give—what I hope looks like—a casual shrug. “Yeah.”

“I’m Dylan, by the way.”

At the last minute, I decide to use my sister’s name. She’s always been the confident one. The one who can stand up for herself and anyone else who needs it.

Who better to emulate tonight?

“I’m Brynn.”

eight

Finn

Itry to focus on the blonde in front of me—Amanda? Allison?—but Vivian is on to her second glass of wine and starting to sway. Green Polo steadies her with a palm to her ribs, and I almost shatter the highball glass in my hand. He’s practically salivating at her tipsy state.

Like a dog.

“It was nice to meet you, but I’ve got to go,” I interrupt Aubrey. Or was it Alyssa?

“Oh, sure. Maybe we can…” Her words pitter off as I march down the bar.

I know I’m being a complete jerk, but Annabell didn’t take my first seven hints that I wasn’t up for conversation. Normally, I can chat with anyone about anything, but tonight my job is to take care of Vivian.

Green Polo’s lips lean dangerously close to Vivian’s ear as I arrive beside her. “We have to head out, Viv.”

“Viv?” The man’s brows crinkle.

She waves a hand, her silver pinky ring glinting in the light. “Childhood nickname.”

His gaze cautiously jumps to mine before returning to Vivian’s. “Can I get your number?”

“Sorry, man. We’re not from here,” I tell him, like the world’s biggest scumbag, before sliding my arm around her shoulder and pulling Vivian toward the ocean-facing exit.

I have no logical explanation for my uncharacteristic surliness. The little voice in my head that always reminds me to pay attention to the optics of a situation, to constantly put the most likable version of myself forward, seems to be momentarily subdued. By what, I don’t know.

“You gave him a fake name?” I ask as soon as we spill onto the wide cement boardwalk that separates us from the beach.

“My sister’s.”

The corner of my mouth lips up. “Clever.”

To my shock, Vivian leans into me and takes a noisy inhale. “It’s been bugging me since I got in your car, but I can’t decide if it’s cliché for you to smell like books. It’s probably because you’re surrounded by them all day. Though…fragrance companies should bottle this”—she pokes my chest—“and sell it because all the bookish girlies would lose their minds if their boyfriends smelled like you.”

I blink. Utterly speechless.

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