Page 14 of Faking Summer
"Need this more than you do," she snapped back, blue eyes flashing.
"Maybe you’ve had enough," I added, dryly.
"I didn’t come to the bar for judgment," she shot back, slamming the empty glass onto the bar with satisfying finality.
I signaled to the bartender to get me another drink, and he nodded.
Then Bailey's voice carried over with another "fire drill" call, and I felt an uncharacteristic resistance. My feet remained planted on thesticky bar floor, and beside me, Crew didn't budge either. We formed a silent pact, turning our backs to Bailey. For once, I wasn’t going along with it—maybe it was the gravity in Caroline's gaze that anchored me. Or maybe it was my curiosity about her that kept me there.
"Fire drill!" Bailey bellowed, throwing his hands up in distress.
The bartender closer to him raised an unamused brow at Bailey. And before any of us saw it coming, she grabbed the water tap and aimed it with precision at her target, drenching him.
"What the hell?" Bailey spluttered, water dripping from his hair, down to the collar of his shirt.
"Sorry," the bartender said, though the smirk playing on her lips spoke volumes to her lack of remorse. "I thought you said there was a fire."
Bailey grinned like a fool and shook his head as he wiped the water out of his face. Caroline threw her head back in a loud, infectious laugh. I couldn’t hold back either. We both sat there snickering uncontrollably while Bailey looked like a soggy cat, trying to regain his dignity.
"Did Bailey just try to fire drill you?" Caroline laughed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Because that went terribly wrong.”
"Yeah, it's Bails," I admitted, still chuckling. "Would you expect anything less?"
"Not at all," she shot back, still trying to fight the laughter.
"You better stop laughing like that, or I might think you're actually enjoying my company."
She turned to me, those sky-colored eyes holding mine. A taunting smirk played on her lips. "Trust me, I'm not enjoying your company.” The way she said that didn’t sound all that convincing.
Then it hit me that it wasn’t just some girl at the bar Crew was talking to—it was Sam, Caroline's best friend. "Is Crew talking to...?" I started, turning toward Caroline.
"Sam?" she confirmed, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, and she hasn't stopped smiling from the moment they started talking."
As if feeling our eyes on her, Sam turned our way. "Caroline," she called out. "Will you go back to the hotel room with Crew and me? Please!" Her smile widened with hope. "Maybe we can drink a little more and relax? I'm ready to get outta this bar."
I glanced at Caroline, anticipating her fiery spirit to challenge the suggestion, but instead, she seemed to consider it. "Ugh, fine," she relented with a sigh, giving in quicker than I expected.
Crew threw an arm over my shoulder. "Reese is coming too!"
Caroline barely talked to me most days, barely gave me the time of day. When she did, it was pure, unfiltered hatred. Us getting along? That seemed borderline impossible—unheard of. Most women were drawn to me—I hardly had to try—but never Caroline. No, she didn’t swoon, didn’t blush, didn’t so much as flicker an eyelash in my direction. Why was she immune to my charm when it worked so well on others?
Honestly, I didn't know whether to be impressed or offended by her ability to see right through my bullshit. But one thing was certain: She had my attention. Every move she made, every sharp remark, every damn time she didn’t give me the reaction I wanted—I wanted to know more.Neededto.
I leaned closer to Caroline, her perfume mingling with the smoky ambiance of the place. It was now or never. "Can we have a truce for one night?" My voice was barely above a whisper, but the intensity behind the words was unmistakable. "Put our differences aside for our friends? You can go back to hating me tomorrow."
Those dangerous eyes twinkled with a playful fire—one that could warm you up just as easily as it could burn you down. Possibly both.
She took a slow sip of her drink, buying time, calculating.
"I'll take that deal… for my friend, and because I've had a few too many." She paused, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Which may be clouding my judgment, but we'll go with it."
I leaned against the bar and caught the bartender's eye. "I’ll takethe tab for everyone over here," I said, pointing from Sam and Caroline to the Blue Devil athletes.
The bartender reached under the counter, and passed me a long strip of paper that made me immediately regret my decision. "Here you go," he said, a lopsided smile playing across his face.
As I scanned the textbook sized bill, one item snagged my attention—a fifty dollar charge for water. My brow creased. "What's with the water tax?"
He tilted his head toward Bailey, who was engaged in an intense discussion with the bartender who sprayed him, droplets still glistening on his shirt. "For the fire drill game that one was playing. Had half the bar believing it was a genuine emergency."
