Page 116 of Whirlwind

“Let me get you—”

I wrapped a hand around her thigh. Cool silk. My thumb grazed the strip of fabric between her legs. “You go on. Do your thing.” I pinched at her pussy lip.

Her eyes flared, and a gasp erupted from her lips. She grinned and dipped close to me, brushing her lips with mine. Sweet honeyed heat.

“Violet, come on!” shouted Tag.

She waved at him, grabbed her camera, and took off, climbing up the narrow steps two at a time. Lars and Tag conferred over his camera while he focused on Irina dancing to her own beat. Violet gave Stone her camera and Tag stretched out his hand to her, and she took it. That grin. The one that made me burn inside.

Tag pulled Violet in close to his body and he said something and she nodded, and my lips pressed together. On those trips to Hawaii and Mexico we’d shared girls. There’d been so many girls. It had never been a big deal, it had been a non-stop party. But seeing Tag now, holding Violet, an innocent thing, was a hammer to my chest.

Lars whistled out his signal and the two of them hurled themselves off the roof of the house, both of them tumbling backwards like seasoned acrobats in the air. They plunged into the pool, the water churned and sloshed in their wake.

Lars pumped a hand in the air. “Awesome!”

Violet rose to the top and laughed. Triumphant.

I went to the edge of the pool. “That was some jump.”

“All those gymnastics classes I hated finally came in handy!” Violet lifted up out of the pool and wiped her wet hair from her face, laughing. A rich, loud laugh. She was loving this. Tag pulled up out of the pool and we all high-fived.

The two of them went back up on the roof, and this time Tag wore a helmet with a GoPro attached to it. With Tag at their side, Violet and Gabriella held hands and jumped off, hair flying, into the pool. All for the cool shot. The coolest shot.

Kaspar returned with Irina, each of them holding a blue soda can. A Greek orange soda brand was sponsoring Kaspar’s video and his concert here so the cans were everywhere and had to be included in the shots.

Another photographer, a Greek guy Tag knew, focused his camera on us. A girl in a bikini brought over glasses filled with ice and we all poured orange soda in our glasses. We clinked to the good life and drank. Holding a blue can, Irina stood up and danced to music that would be dubbed in later.

Ah, good times.

Everyone took a break and raided the buffet table of snacks and drinks. “You feeling better?” Tag sucked down a tall fruit juice.

“Much better. You’d think I’d be used to time zone changes by now.”

“I hear you. By the way, Violet’s doing a great job.”

“She is.”

“Are you two together or just hanging?”

My stomach tensed. “What are you asking, Tag?” I knew what he was asking, but I felt like being difficult.

Tag only laughed. I hated when he answered a question with that ironic laugh of his. It brought me right back to high school.

I shot him a grin. “I like her a lot, that’s why I brought her.”

“I’m glad you did.” He winked at me. “You seem happy. You deserve a good person, not a—”

“And how are you doing?”

“Me?” He made that I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about face. “Great.”

“Tag.”

He let out a long heavy breath and averted his gaze. “Sure, I think about her, but—”

“You mean deleting a whole year’s worth of IG photos of the two of you didn’t erase her completely from your life?”

A pained look crossed his features. “Yeah…No.” His gaze went to the sea, his eyes crinkling in the glare. “Things got mean at the end, that stupid Twitter war…and, fuck it, there’s no point. She’s got her life, I’ve got mine.”

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