“If I’m the meninist’s worst nightmare, you’re the photo they use on their dartboards.”
“As we should be.” I kissed her cheek and entwined our fingers. “Let’s go, Tally.”
Already, the wicked pinch of a hangover brewed behind my eyes, but I was way past the point of no return and opted for another sweet cocktail despite it. I’d rather black out and face the consequences than sober up before the rest of the party did and still end up bent over a toilet.
The bar must have run out of the coconuts, because when my new drink arrived it was in a plastic cup with noticeably less ice, and therefore warm all the way down my throat. I scrunched my nose and shrugged, taking several long swigs anyway.
“You move on fast.”
Fuck.
My eyes rolled involuntarily. I’d never forget the cocky drawl of that man’s voice for as long as I lived.
“Is that your type? Skater boy?”
I scoffed and took another long gulp, watching the way Frankie’s eyes roamed over my body head to toe as I did. Fine, let him look. It was satisfying to know he might lie awake at night kicking himself over the loss.
“He’s a little young, though,” Frankie commented, leaning his hip against the ledge of the bar. “Probably not a lot in his retirement fund.”
“And what’s your type, exactly?” I flicked the sign on his chest. “Walks and has a pussy?”
“There’s that smart mouth.” His gaze shifted down to my lips for a fraction of a second while he toyed with the string of yarn that held his booty-call sign. “Cap’s idea.”
“I’m starting to think you need ‘Cap’ to wipe your ass too,” I jabbed. “Maybe you should stop taking his advice on finding a woman to fuck you, because holy shit are you zero for two in one day.”
Frankie pouted as he checked the time on his watch. “All I’m hearing is that I still have an hour.”
“Good luck, soldier.” I saluted him and began to walk away, but he grabbed me tenderly under the arm and pulled me back.
“Hey—wait, wait, wait.”
My brow lifted skeptically, but I fell back into place.
Blame it on the alcohol. Definitely not the tall, dark-haired man with his bare chest nearly pressed to mine in the crowded club. Our breaths synchronized as I waited for him to say something, thinking he would take the time to apologize or explain himself. Instead his expression turned from contemplative to curious.
“What are you wearing?” He reached out to massage one of the fluffy white pom-poms hanging from my waist between his fingers, his knuckles brushing lightly against the material just below my bust.
“I know your game Frankie, don’t play cute.” I batted his hand away half-heartedly.
“You look surreal.”
“Oh, you like?” I played with the hem of my top. “This is my ‘get over the asshole from the airplane that unmatched me’ outfit.”
He averted his eyes, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. “You noticed that?”
“Of course I fucking noticed that! I’m telling Nat about the guy I met on my flight, only to see you unmatched me thirty seconds after I walked out of the airport. I guess it wasn’t too much of a loss though. You probably wouldn’t even last that long in bed.”
“We could test it?” He shrugged.
“You could go fuck yourself.”
“I’m really trying to stop doing that so often. That’s kind of how we got into this mess in the first place.”
I blinked rapidly, nursing my expression from amused back to unimpressed. I wanted so badly to hate the man in front of me, but I was uncharacteristically smitten and unavoidably fucked.
“And what you said about Natalia,” I whispered accusingly, pointing at Frankie and narrowing my eyes.
“How was I supposed to know that Casper the Friendly Ghost was your college girlfriend?”
“I’m walking away now.” I grabbed my drink off the bar top for the second time in as many minutes and made my way back in the direction of the dance floor.
“I’m an asshole, okay?” Frankie admitted, catching up to me in one long stride.
“You don’t say?”
“But not for the reasons you think.”
Weaving in and out of the crowd, I spotted Nat and Mateo grinding like they were the only two in the room and swung back around, coming face-to-face with Frankie. “Are you married?”
“What?” He recoiled. “No, I’m not fucking married. I told you I live with Mateo.”
“You could have a girlfriend.”
“I can hardly handle you.”
I snorted, pleased with that answer. “So I’m going to go find a guy who can.”
“Suspenders Santa doesn’t even know what a clit is.”
“Maybe I should introduce you then and you guys can swap notes.”
As if summoned, Lucas popped through the partygoers and appeared next to us, smiling with a drunken hood to his eyes. I didn’t oppose the way he laid his palm a bit too comfortably across my lower back when I glanced up and saw how amusingly easy it was to make Frankie squirm. His jaw was clenched so hard I could almost hear his teeth grinding over the music.
“Come dance with me?” Lucas asked.
“It’s rude to interrupt a conversation, man.”
Surprise sparked through me at the hint of possession in Frankie’s tone. He didn’t like anyone else playing with his toys. Good to know.
But I also wasn't his to claim as much as my traitorous body didn’t hate the idea. Too many drinks into a night out with two hot men playing tug o’ war over my snowball tassels was the beginning of a bad idea.
Lucas redirected his attention. “I think she was having more fun before you got here.”
“I think she can speak for herself.” Frankie took a step forward.
“You know what?” I chimed in. “This is a party, isn’t it? I actually would love to dance.”
Leaving my two half-clothed suitors to stare at one another in a pile of tinsel, I took off toward Nat and her also half-clothed boyfriend in the middle of the dance floor. I’d been in Florida less than eight hours and I was already two grown men deep in drama when all the drunk and frisky part of my brain could think about was two grown men deep in me.
Mateo had enough rhythm on his own to bop back and forth without looking like he was inconspicuously trying to work out a wedgie, so I didn’t feel so bad stealing his girlfriend away—or when he left the two of us alone twirling in the strobe lights.
“Are we burying bodies tonight or what, chick?” Nat shouted over the music as we swayed in tandem.
“I can’t decide if I’m destructive drunk or DTF drunk.”
“I know you.” She grinned. “You’re borderline fuck-my-ass drunk but Frankie is on your shit list.”
“He’s on my do-not-fuck-ever list.”
“Make him grovel, it's good for your skin.”
“He’s too much of a proud asshole to grovel.” I glanced back to where I’d left the boys to find Frankie and Mateo watching from the sidelines. Matty whispered something animatedly in his friend's ear, pointing at Nat and me, making Frankie smirk. “I want to wipe that smug look right off his face.”
“We could make out?” Nat suggested.
“We’re talking punishment, not reward.”