Once our hands are dry enough to wipe the sand away, we head over to the barbeque station set up and grab some Tri-Tip sandwiches.
The sun falls behind a wall fog, not long later, and the firepits are put to use, so while the others dance around to the music, refilling their cups for the third time, I move toward the flame.
It’s not exactly cold, but there’s a light chill in the air and my hair is still wet, so I wrap it in my palms and hold it away from my skin, spinning so the heat warms my back.
“Smore?”
I glance to the side to find a blond guy, his hair tied back in a tight man bun and a grin on his lips.
“Yeah, actually.” I turn, lifting my hair fall and step up beside him.
He hands me a stick and I poke it into the bag of marshmallows. “Thanks.”
His smile deepens. “No problem. I’d offer you a hot dog to roast, but I ate the last one already.”
I chuckle. “You roasted a hot dog right here?”
He holds his finger to his lips. “Don’t tell, technically this fire belongs to the food truck, and I don’t think they’d be cool with me grilling my own and not buying theirs.”
Glancing around, I nod and hold my marshmallow over the flame. “I think they’re doing just fine without your sale.”
“It is a pretty good turnout, huh?”
I blow the fire out over my stick and he squeezes it between two graham crackers, right over a slab of chocolate and hands it to me.
“You here on vacation?” he wonders, perching himself on the edge of the rock.
“More like a quick trip. We come here all the time, so it’s become a second, way better home, than a vacation spot.”
He chuckles, looking out over the party. “I hear you. I’m here during the summer mostly, but I try to make it this way a couple times a year other than that.” He bends, digging into the small ice chest near his feet and pulls out a beer. “Want one?”
“She’s got one,” comes from behind me and the guy’s head snaps toward the voice.
Chase slips between us with a glare, completely blocking me from the surfer boy to my right and holds out a freshly filled cup.
I lean forward to meet the man’s eyes and smile, lifting my cup. “Thank you, but I’ve got one, and thanks for the s’more.”
The guy nods, an easy-going grin on his lips. “For sure, you guys have a nice night, huh?” He waves, grabs his bag and moves over to a group of people a few feet away.
I face Chase, bringing my drink to my lips.
“What?” He frowns.
“That was rude.”
“You don’t even know the guy, why would you take anything from him?”
“He was just being nice.”
Chase scoffs, facing away.
Now I’m the one who’s asking, “What?”
“Nothing.” He shrugs. “Didn’t think Cam was being serious about the whole beach boys thing, that’s all.”
My mouth opens, but nothing come out, so I busy myself with my beer.
Is that jealousy?
It can’t be, can it?
It’s simply him being an ass, mimicking Mason as he’s known to do.
Before I can think on it anymore, Cam walks up.
“’Bout ready to head back? It’s getting dark, and I’ve got sand in places eyes have never seen.” Cam laughs.
“Yup.” Chase kicks off, and Cameron raises a brow, but wipes it away before anyone can see.
The walk home from the party feels like it takes twice as long than the walk there.
We’re beat from the sun and surf and the bit of day drinking added to it.
Nate and Lolli wave us off as they keep forward toward their place and we drag ourselves down our driveway.
Cam and Brady beat us out in rock, paper, scissors, so they got dibs on first showers, assigning us as the cleaner-uppers.
Together, we haul the ice chest up onto the deck, and move back down to secure our equipment.
Mason and Chase drop the paddle boards into their slots, and I come behind them, loping the lock through the fin boxes. I get them all laced together, but the lock itself has sand in it, and won’t clamp.
“Piece of crap.” I sigh, trying to jam the stupid thing in place.
Chase wipes his hands on his shorts and comes up behind me, his arms coming around, caging me in. His hands cover mine and he gently takes the lock from my hands. “Here, let me.”
I’m not sure if he whispers, but it feels like it, his warm breath rolling over my wet skin with slow accuracy. I look up over my shoulder and his eyes meet mine, a covert smirk trying to break free.
He brings the metal item to his mouth, blowing into it, and my eyes fall to his lips.
I want to feel them again. I want them to glide along my neck as his breath is.