Lyla still thought about it sometimes, when she was just falling asleep. On particularly warm nights when the air was soft and close against her skin. Thought about what she could have had if she'd been a little less... Or a little more...
Pressed tight between Jason and Tim. Both of them touching her at once. In Mexico no one would have seen.
Her hair pulled aside, lips sliding along her jaw, other lips tingling against the nape of her neck. Both of them adoring her. In Mexico no one would have mattered to talk, strangers using another language.
Hands cupping her breasts, other hands curled against her thighs, brushing each other as they moved like when they passed a bottle of beer back and forth. Both of them loving her. In Mexico no one would have known.
But she would always know. The salty breeze. Always know she could never have it. The swaying music.
Always know she wanted it. Bright lights, deep shadows. Strong arms, gentle lips. Bare bodies, beating hearts.
Always know she had almost done it.