First and Tension (Summersweet Island 4)

“Come on, Birdie,” I urge with a chin lift in her direction. “You’re tits-deep in wedding planning for this summer. I’m sure you have something to bitch about. Is Palmer still insisting everything at the reception be golf-themed? That must suck, huh?”

Birdie answers me by slurping her drink, so I turn my head toward Wren.

“I know Shepherd just proposed, but I’m sure he’s been annoying you, trying to set a wedding date, when you just want to enjoy being engaged for a while, right?”

Another loud slurp with no verbal reply.

“Tess? Want to complain some more about how much you have to pee now, or how fat your ankles are, or something? Anything? Anyone?” I beg, looking around at all the blank faces, butterflies flapping around in my stomach while I try to quickly drown them with frozen, grapey tequila.

“Yeah, sooo, we’re only here because of you and all the bitching you’ve clearly kept bottled up for five months, looking all sad when you think no one is watching,” Birdie informs me.

Goddammit.

Wren just shrugs when I frown at her.

“I didn’t say one word to them. They have both come to me several times and asked what the hell has been up with you. I’m not the only one who cares about you, so spill it. Tell us what’s wrong, and don’t lie, or I’ll go against Bodhi’s wishes, give Tess a lighter, and set her loose.”

Tess forcefully shoves my upper body back with her arm so she can see Wren on the other side of me.

“You have a lighter? On you right now? Can I touch it? Smell it? Just let me look at it! Come on, Bodhi will never know,” Tess begs, folding her hands together under her chin and bouncing up and down on top of the table.

Her phone immediately chimes twice with two incoming texts, and we all lean forward to look when she picks it up from the table on the other side of her.

Bodhi: Text me as soon as you leave the Dip and Twist so I know how long it will be before you get home so I don’t worry.

Bodhi: And no lighters! Love you bunches!

“Fuck… you,” Tess says as she types those exact words to her husband, quickly hitting Send before putting her phone back down. But not before glancing at the gorgeous, Oregon sunstone surrounded by red and orange sapphires on the third finger of her left hand with a huge smile on her face.

All my friends’ rings are blinding under the glow of the florescent lights at the Dip and Twist, making it hard to keep my eyes off them. Palmer Campbell, pro golfer and Birdie’s childhood crush, proposed at the San Francisco Open on national television last summer.

Shephard Oliver, former pro baseball player and current high school baseball coach of Owen’s team here on the island, proposed to Wren with a platinum band with what looks like red baseball stitching engraved all around it and a giant ruby surrounded by diamonds in the center. He asked Wren to marry him out in centerfield, the spot where he used to famously play, when they went on a tour of a few college ball fields, planning for Owen’s future. And where they officially started their future together. Shephard got down on his knee in front of Wren and Owen in the middle of the outfield, promising to love and take care of both of them forever. Thankfully, he had one of the college coaches record the whole thing, and we’ve all watched and cried happy tears over it a hundred times since it happened.

Not for the first time since I’ve been home, a rush of jealousy washes through me, and I hate it. I’m deliriously happy for my friends, but sometimes, I just wonder, why not me? And that sucks. And that also makes this tequila slush go down entirely too easy.

“All right, no more interruptions. Spill it,” Wren orders me again. “We love you, and we just can’t handle watching you sit around not doing anything for—”

“Um, hello?” I stop her. “Did you miss the part where I told you I taught myself the rap in ‘No Scrubs’?”

“No shit?” Tess asks. “That’s hard, what with acquisition and Expedition so close to each other.”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“Oh my God, Emily Jean Flanagan, quit stalling!” Wren shouts in her stern mom-voice. “What the hell is going on with you, and don’t lie!”

“Just tell us, come on!”

“You’ve been keeping it in long enough!”

“It can’t be as bad as you think. Spill it!”

“If you don’t give us the goods, I will rip out your throat with my bare hands and dance in your blood in the moonlight!”

Everyone slowly turns to stare at Tess with wide eyes, while her shoulders droop and her lip starts to quiver.

“I just really miss fire, you guys,” she whines before Wren and Birdie start back in on me at the same time.