Enemy Dearest

Glittery makeup accented by fluttery lashes.

Sun-bronzed, flawless complexions.

Shirtless guys with eight-pack abs worthy of big city billboards.

I’m a pale church mouse in comparison.

My little sunflower dress with the nineties scoop neck and t-shirt beneath was definitely the wrong choice for this party, but we’re here and it’s too late for regrets. Bless Adriana’s heart for not saying anything, although she probably knew it wouldn’t be in her best interest to give me any kind of reservations about coming here tonight.

A guy who looks questionably twenty-one(ish) stands behind a fully stocked bar next to the cabana, mixing drinks and popping caps off beer bottles as he nods in time with the lounge exotica playing from hidden speakers around the pool.

The pool itself is glowing, the lights changing from turquoise to lavender to brilliant white and back. Everywhere I turn, people are making out—or more. Snapping pictures. Laughing. Chasing one another around the grounds.

While I was here less than a week ago, everything looks different all lit up and full of life.

Tonight, it’s a whole new frontier.

A group of three guys with football player builds toss back shots of Lord knows what, one of them eyeing me up and down before his unfocused gaze lands on Adriana’s backside.

“Come on,” she leads me closer to the bar. “My sister says the best thing you can do at a party is walk in, look like you’re making eye contact with someone in the far back corner, then walk like you’re on a mission. Worst thing you can do is stand around looking all shy and awkward.” We’re almost to the dancing bartender. “We belong here just as much as anyone else.”

“Two rum and cokes, please,” Adriana orders our drinks a second later, shouting over the pulsating music.

I wasn’t going to drink tonight, but I think maybe one could help take the tension out of my shoulders and wipe the amateur doe-eyed look from my face. Aside from making sure Adriana stays out of trouble, it wouldn’t kill me to actually enjoy myself tonight.

“Et voila.” She hands me a clear plastic cup filled with fizzy brown soda and two skinny straws. “Cheers!”

I tap my drink against hers before taking a sip, and then I wrestle the bitter wince off my face. My brain expected to taste sugary cola despite knowing damn well there’d be rum mixed in.

“It’s good, right?” Adriana shouts over the music before downing a generous gulp.

I don’t know about good …

It’s strong, for sure.

“Mm hm.” I take a baby-sized sip. Rum doesn’t taste how I thought it would. Then again, I don’t know how I thought it would taste. Four liberal sips later, and it doesn’t taste like much of anything anymore.

“Let’s find somewhere to sit.” Adriana takes my hand and pulls me toward a couple of empty lounge chairs. “I want to people watch.”

I take another drink, my body growing warmer by the second, and I scan my surroundings. Between the lissome girls and chiseled guys, I’ve yet to spot a sign of August. As the host, I expected him to be making his rounds, handing out cold beers, and generally acting as the center of the universe.

On second thought, the man doesn’t smile, and I’d hardly call him outgoing host material. He’s probably hooking up with a pair of pretty best friends in some back room upstairs. I’m quite positive girls throw themselves at him, especially during an occasion such as this. You can’t top those kind of bragging rights—it’d be like going to a party at the Playboy Mansion in the sixties and hooking up with Hugh Hefner himself.

“Hi.” A shaggy-haired guy in a backwards baseball cap takes a seat across from us, his attention fixed on Adriana. “I’m Isaac.”

He takes a pull from a green beer bottle.

“Adriana.” She smiles, blinking her mascara-coated lashes before waving toward me. “That’s Sheridan.”

“You’re new here,” he says, solely speaking to her.

She leans back, shrugging a shoulder and dropping a wink. “How kind of you to take notice …”

“Think I’d remember seeing a face like yours around here.” He takes another drink.

I stifle a laugh. This guy has no game and Adri is picking up every morsel he’s dropping. But at least he’s cute. I’ll give him that. He looks like a twenty-year-old frat boy, but in a good way.

“Are you from Meredith Hills?” he asks.

She nods. “Born and raised. You?”

I scan the backyard for August again. All week I tried to imagine what our first interaction tonight would be like. Every time I drew blanks. The two times I’ve interacted with the man, he’s been nothing short of aloof and unreadable. If I’m not mistaken, I think he’s angry about the trespassing last weekend. But if he was truly that upset about it, why would he invite me here? He literally said “you two should come” when he invited us to his party. You two. Not just Adriana. Both of us.