A Harmless Little Game (Harmless #1)
By: Meli Raine
“Jane!”
“What? He’s hot.” She sighs. “I haven’t had sex in a year, Lindsay. Not with anyone other than myself, I mean.”
I’m not sure I can handle this conversation. I’ve had my share of girl talk. Just...not in four years.
My silence hangs between us. I drink most of my Cosmo, then pick at a fry.
Jane suddenly says, “I did it again, didn’t I? Insert foot in mouth. I’m sorry, Lindsay. I shouldn’t joke about sex.”
“Why not?”
“Because...because you...”
“Haven’t had sex, ever?”
Jane looks like someone hit her in the face with a frying pan.
“What?”
“What those guys did to me wasn’t sex. It was rape. And until that happened, I was a virgin.”
“You and Drew never...”
“We, um, played. You know. Did stuff.” The alcohol is making it easier to talk about this. I want to talk about this. Need to talk about this. This is what normal people in their early twenties do, right? This is what I did four years ago. I sat around with my female friends and talked about sex.
Now I’ve gone from loads of friends to exactly one.
And I don’t have sex.
And I lost my virginity in a gang rape.
Trying to be “normal” isn’t really working so well for me.
So far.
“Lindsay, we don’t have to talk about sex.”
“I need another one of these,” I say, holding my drink glass by the stem and wiggling it. The cocktail server happens to look over and see me. She nods.
Jane smiles. Her eyes are so kind. “You’ve really been through so much, haven’t you?”
I lean back against the booth and sigh. “Yeah.”
“And now, with your father’s new campaign.”
“Right. Big meeting tomorrow morning about that,” I add, pretending to use my father’s serious, deep voice. “Gotta rally the family around Senator Harwell Bosworth so we can make America strong!”
Jane giggles. “And my poor mom will be working one hundred and twenty hour weeks.”
“As opposed to her hundred and ten hour weeks she already works?”
We share a weary smile. The server brings us both a new Cosmo. Jane looks surprised, but finishes her old one, then picks up the new one.
“A toast.”
“To what?”
“To old friends and new beginnings.”
I smile. It feels real. I clink my glass against hers and say, “I can definitely drink to that.”
Chapter 18
Jane waves to the server, a young woman about our age, and whispers something in her ear. The woman looks over at Silas, grins, and gives Jane a thumbs’ up.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m having some fun.” We drink our Cosmos and just relax. I don’t ask her what she’s up to, because I have a feeling I’m about to find out anyhow.
I forgot how nice it is to spend time with someone you’re comfortable with. Someone you don’t have to pretend with.
And as if on cue, my relaxation is interrupted by the entrance of a man in a suit.
It’s Drew.
“Damn it,” I mutter, watching him enter and approach Silas. Could they be any more obvious? They look like Secret Service agents.
Jane follows my gaze and does a double take. “That’s Drew!” she gasps. Her face reddens. “Oh, no.”
“Why? What’s wrong with Drew? Aside from the obvious, I mean.”
“It’s just—he—I mean...” The server approaches Silas and Drew, and sets a drink down in front of Silas, who looks super confused. Drew’s face tightens with anger. Clearly, Silas isn’t supposed to be drinking on the job.
“I sent that drink to Silas,” Jane confesses.
“I figured.”
When the server motions to me and Jane, Silas blushes furiously. Drew looks at us. Jane gives a little, silly wave, fluttering her fingers.
Drew gets up and comes toward us as if Jane gave him an engraved invitation. He marches up to her side of the booth and hip checks her, sliding right on in.
“Did you just offer my security officer sex on the beach?”
I spray him with a mouthful of my Cosmo.
Drew looks down at his now-wet chest, which is lightly misted with the fine, fruity droplets of my delicious drink.
“Well.”
Jane bursts out laughing, the kind of nervous giggling you can’t control with a drink in you and a hot guy sitting next to you, covered in your friend’s spray.
I am feeling loose and overwhelmed, silly and slightly panicked, and I can’t stop laughing, either.
Drew stares at me, his face impassive, but I see a smile in his eyes.
“Occupational hazard,” I finally gasp, still hysterical.
“I’ve been sprayed with bullets before, but never with a mixed drink.”
“There’s a first for everything,” Jane says, grabbing the spare cocktail napkins from the table and patting his chest gently.
He watches her, the corners of his mouth twitching with a repressed smile. Silas walks over, holding his drink called Sex on the Beach, and sets it down in front of Jane.