Page 20 of Riptide

But they’re not home tonight. Which should be a good thing. It is a good thing, given my mental capacity tonight.

Pulling out my phone, I flick through my notifications, needing a distraction as I move toward the front door. My keys are on the side table, right where I left them. I grab them, twisting the key ring between my fingers as I pull the door open.

The night air is cooler than I expected, crisp against my skin, but I barely notice it as I slide into my car. I grip the steering wheel, breathing in deep as nerves make me wobble. I shove it back, focus on the road ahead, and turn the key, letting the car rumble to life. Tonight, I just want to feel like myself again. I want to let it all go, because that’s what I need to do. I need to forget about the bullshit and lose myself in a perfect stranger. I send a silent prayer up to the hookup gods that he’s not a catfish. Even though I’ve seen pictures, I’ve heard things can be really convincing these days.

My phone vibrates in the passenger seat.

Foxx

You on time?

I smirk, nerves morphing into excitement as I tap out a response before I drive.

Finn

Please. Like I’d make you wait.

Chapter eight

Foxx

Icheckmywatchagain. 8:57 p.m.

The whiskey in front of me is untouched. I don’t know why I picked whiskey. I don’t usually drink much at all; plus, I’m driving tonight, so I know this is going to be my only drink. I ordered it to have something to do with my hands, but I’ve barely even glanced at it, only rolled the ridged edges of the glass between my fingertips for a distraction.

The bar is dimly lit, the kind of place where people press in close, voices murmuring distantly over the faint background music. It’s not somewhere I’d normally choose, but it’s far enough away from campus and it’s got a quieter vibe.

Still, I’m restless. Not in an obvious way, but in the low energy beneath my skin, the warmth in my palms. There’s tension in my shoulders, a constant awareness of the door I can’t stop glancing at. Every time it opens, the hair on the back of my neck rises. What if it goes like the last time? What if he sees me and bolts? What if he doesn’t come at all? It’s been a long time since I’ve let myself want something like this, and it shows. Vulnerabilitypresses against the edges of my senses, and I’d forgotten how exposed this feels. How hard it is to put yourself out there. I’m not saying I don’t want it, but I’m also making sure I check in with myself here.

Then someone catches my eye, and even before I really see, I know it’s him. He stands out immediately, all tousled blond hair that’s somehow both dark and light and annoyingly sexy. He scans the room, relaxed, at ease, like none of this fazes him. Effortlessly magnetic.

And fuck, he looks good. Better than his pictures. The kind of attractive that makes me question how I ever thought I’d be unaffected.

Then his eyes find mine.

Something reckless sparks to life in my chest. It’s been years since I’ve felt that pull, that familiar heat curling through me like a warning I already know I won’t listen to.

A flicker of something passes over his face… Recognition, sure, but also something else. Something slower, heavier, like maybe this is hitting him just as hard as it’s hitting me. I don’t move toward him and neither does he. We just stare at each other, and the air between us pulls tight, like a band that could snap at any moment. Something that’s delicious and heady.

Finn’s mouth curves just slightly. Just enough to say,there you are.The smirk isn’t just something I see; Ifeelit, a deep awareness low in my body as my pulse hammers in my throat, that dangerous awakening in my chest. The one I’ve ignored for years.

When he begins weaving through the room, I notice there’s something about the way he walks, a confidence that isn’t cocky but settled. His dark shirt tugs across his shoulders that aren’t as broad as mine, but I can tell he spends time on himself.

I pick up my drink, finally taking a slow sip, letting the amber liquid burn and sting my throat just as he reaches the bar.

Finn stops in front of me, eyes dragging over me, trailing hot embers in his wake, unashamedly taking in every detail up close. And I’m not going to pretend I hadn’t been doing the same. But it’s his eyes that catch me off guard. Pale blue, framed by blond lashes, making them lighter, more enchanting, and coupled with sun-kissed skin, they’re impossible to look away from.

His chest rises with a slow breath, then… “Fuck,” he mutters, voice low and rough around the edges. Raspy and sexy.

I arch an eyebrow, willing my pulse to stay steady. “I don’t even get a ‘Hi’?”

His smirk sharpens, lazily, but full of intention as he leans on the bar, closing the space between us. His gaze flickers to my mouth, then back to my eyes, my skin tingling from his attention. “Sorry, you’re so fucking hot. It was the only word I could get out.”

My stomach tightens. I let out a short, breathy laugh, my fingers curling around my glass at his honest remark. “Glad I could live up to expectations.”

Finn pulls out the stool next to mine and sits down, and I’m immediately assaulted by his scent. Clean, fresh, like soap and something faintly fresh and salty. I wouldn’t be surprised if he said he just came from the beach.

“You waiting long?” he asks, tipping his head toward my drink.

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