i'm extremely sorry about updating so late at night, here's the next chapter!
enjoy!
Ally
To see it in person is like seeing it for the first time.
The little tropical-themed bungalow that belonged to Trish's grandmother has been transformed into a beautiful, sophisticated beach home. The flamingo wallpaper is gone and the once mauve walls are all painted a stark white, which sets off the dark furniture perfectly. The matching pink carpets of the nineties have been pulled up to reveal beautiful hardwood floors.
Situated on a street-to-beach lot, a double carport now occupies the empty space we used to play in as kids and provides a little privacy from the road. The old garage that served as the front of the house has been demolished and replaced with an extended outdoor living space downstairs and a new bedroom and bath upstairs, complete with a balcony overlooking the town and a small side window looking toward the water.
That is my room. Trish took her grandmother's room downstairs in the back, which has beautiful French doors that open to a magnificent view of the beach.
The place itself is small. Enough for us, though. Just under one thousand square feet inside, it's still bigger than my apartment in New York City. The best part is the outdoor living space and the view; they are both to die for. Beyond the short breaker wall is the white crystal-like beach and the ever blue of the beach.
What more could a girl ask for?
Running my hand over the shiny black granite in the galley kitchen, I look around again in awe. Franke farm sink, Sub-Zero refrigerator, Wolf cooktop and oven. Everything is new. The only thing that is the same as before is the solid wood flooring beneath my bare feet. When Trish told me her mother had remodeled the place with intention to help her sell it before Trish decided to move back here last year, I never imagined it would look like this. Valentina lives in LA and never wanted to move back to Miami; that's why the bungalow was left to Trish.
Taking a few moments to absorb all the changes in the house, I can't help but think how vastly different this place is from Manhattan. For once, change isn't causing me to break out in hives.
I'm more than okay with it.
Moving forward the only way I know how... without regret.
After unpacking and napping for a few hours once we'd arrived from the airport, Trish insisted we go to the beach. Although I was nowhere near done setting up my room, I gave in and went. The day was warm and sunny, and I wanted to feel the heat on my skin and the sand between my toes. And maybe, just maybe, I hoped to get a glimpse of a certain lifeguard on duty. We walked for miles. Every time we passed a lifeguard tower, I snuck a quick glance at the guy in red shorts and a white T-shirt, but not a single one was Austin.
By the time we got back, and horsed around by dousing each other with the hose on the side of the house like we used to do as kids, I had needed some more sleep, and so did Trish. Feeling beyond exhausted, I went from the doorway of my new room to the bed in a few steps. I shed my dress and dove onto the soft mattress with its mound of white covers and pillows. Smiling under the sheets, I looked around. I had a blank canvas to decorate and make my own— all in due time.
Yet even though I was tired, I tossed and turned.
Images of Austin floated through my mind.
I wondered if it was only because I knew that eventually I'd see him again. He was my neighbor, after all.
Sleep wasn't forthcoming. It was seldom easy for me, but this time it was because memories of Austin were causing that ache he had created so many hours ago to throb, almost painfully.
I wished I'd already bought that vibrator Trish had put on the list. I could use it right about now. My hand would have to do. I wasn't sure if Trish was asleep, though, and what if the bed squeaked? I gave half a second's thought to embarrassment and tossed it aside for the sake of finding relief.
The bottom line? I was horny.
The memory of Austin Moon's groan slid over me and traveled somewhere deep inside me right down to my clit. I didn't do this often, but I knew how to make it quick. Having a roommate for so many years taught me that.
Turning to my side, my fingers circled my hard nub and I plunged one inside to fuck myself. Sweat slid down the line of my spine and rested just above my buttocks. Then it trickled down a little farther, and it felt so much like a tongue licking along my skin, it put me close to the blissful edge of climax. I shifted ever so slightly against my hand, once, twice, three times.
Sweet tension curled inside my belly. Before I could blink, my sex tightened and my body tensed. Soon, I found myself tipping over faster than ever at the thought of being the reason Austin had made the sounds he had.
I shook in silence and then turned farther to bury my face in the pillow and stifle my own moans. Boneless and sated, after that, sleep found me.
The house was quiet when I woke and once I'd showered, I unpacked enough to find something to wear to meet Trish's we don't have a label guy. Uncertain if the upcoming night air would be chilly, I went with a simple white KVF wrap dress with silver sandals. Once I'd dressed, dabbed some makeup on, and blow-dried my hair, I snuck out onto the balcony. Looking one way, then the other and back, I spent more than fifteen minutes staring at the house to my left and the other to my right.
Which one did Austin live in?
Trish's being coy and deliberately not talking about him. Okay, so maybe not coy exactly. I might have said to her, "I don't want to talk about him." And then added, "Ever again."
The bitch of it is, I'm super curious and for the life of me, I can't tell which house he lives in. Eventually, I'll break down and ask, but for now I'm going to enjoy a glass of spiked lemonade on one of the lounges on the patio that overlooks the water and wait for the sun to set or Trish to wake up, whichever comes first.
Slipping off my sandals, I settle in the chair. I wish I had my book, but as luck would have it, I left it, along with my iPod, on the plane. Yes, me, Miss Organized, did that. In my defense, all I cared about at the time was getting the hell out of Dodge. I checked with the airport and neither was found. I've added these purchases to my to do list. The iPod will have to wait, but I'll go to the store some time next week and buy another copy of Summer's Ménage, if only to pretend it's Austin reading it to me.
I'm uncertain of when Trish plans on going out, and my stomach rumbling tells me I should get up and get something to eat in the meantime. There is some hummus and carrots in the refrigerator, and I think I saw some all-natural cheese there, but there are no crackers in cupboards. Trish's on a minimalist health kick and shops accordingly.
Tomorrow I'm so hitting up the grocery store.
The thought of the rather unappetizing food isn't enough to motivate me to get me to move from this spot, so I decide to wait a bit.
The sound of the waves and feel of the warm breeze makes me feel more relaxed than I have in ages.
"Hey. I thought you might be out here." Trish stands at the end of the pathway along the side of the house that leads from the driveway to the patio, wearing a red baseball hat, tight jeans rolled up to the ankles, leopard pumps, and a white sleeveless silky top with a black sequin blazer.
"Hi." I shade my eyes to look at her. "I didn't know you even left. Here I was creeping around the house because I thought you were still sleeping."
She laughs. "I ran out to get food for dinner."
"You're cooking?" I ask in utter shock, and possibly with a hint of concern about what she could be cooking.
She laughs again. "No, Trent is going to grill some fish."
"He cooks?" I make an impressed face.
Shrugging out of her jacket, she tosses it on one of the chairs at the outdoor table for four and walks toward the house, but pauses to turn around. "Not exactly. He grills. The rest of the meal is from the Whole Foods salad bar."
That sounds more like Trish. Setting my drink down, I swing my legs onto the ground. "Let me put my sandals on and I'll help you unload the car."
"No, it's all set."
"You should have told me you were going; I would have come."
Trish opens the barn-like door to the kitchen. "Don't be silly— you were tired and needed to sleep."
Once I've slipped my sandals on, I begin to walk toward her. It's not until I'm a step away that I hear the loud male voices inside.
Male voices.
As in two men.
They must have come in the front while she came around back.
My eyes bug out of my head. "Trish?"
She turns toward me and squints. Still, I can see the mixture of guilt and mischievousness in her eyes. "Yes, Ally?"
"Who's inside?"
Before she can say another word, a very good-looking man with a pressed white shirt, and black pants appears in the open doorway. A suit. Just like I thought. Albeit a hot-looking suit. He's a very tall, and very well-built man.
God, he must work out night and day.
Trish smiles at him and his arms go around her small waist. "Hey, babe, should I start the grill?"
Babe?
He calls her babe.
Okay, personally, I think when that word is used, it means the relationship status has passed the no-label phase.
Allowing a moment of tenderness to pass between them, she soon pushes off his big, broad chest and grabs his hand to turn him in my direction. "Trent, I want you to meet my very best friend in the whole, wide world, Ally Dawson."
His smile is genuine, and I get the idea right away that he is, too.
I hold out my hand, but he surprises me with a kiss to the cheek. "So you're the infamous Ally. I've heard a lot about you."
Crushing my irritation with Trish, I manage a courteous smile. "Not all bad, I hope."
His arm swings around to pull Trish closer. "No, nothing but good. This one right here thinks you walk on water."
Okay, so he's pushing it a little, I'm sure, but scoring brownie points never hurts. "You're going to make me blush," I tease.
Just then a man dressed in a gray button-down and black slacks with a black leather necklace of some kind around his neck appears in the doorway. He has a bottle of wine in one hand and four stemmed glasses woven between his fingers in the other. How he managed that is a feat in itself.
This guy might even be taller than Trent, but he isn't as wide. Whereas Trent is football player material, he is more the soccer player type. His dark, slicked-back hair borders on black. He's attractive in the boy-next-door kind of way. Just not the boy next door that I, for some reason, want to see. "Hey, am I missing the introductions?" He smiles. He has a really great smile and really white teeth.
Trish and Trent rush to take the open wine and glasses from him. Without preamble, Trent nods toward the guy. "Ally, this is Gavin. He's a performer and we own the record label in Miami. He also owns other labels as well."
Gavin shakes my hand and his eyes rake over me. "Very nice to meet you, Ally."
His hand is warm in mine and his grip tighter than I'm normally accustomed to when I meet men. "Nice to meet you." I smile.
Clasping my other hand with his other, he practically makes us hold hands. Like I said, he's attractive; I just don't know if I'm attracted to him.
"Wine, anyone?" Trish asks, looking at me specifically with puppy dog–like eyes that are screaming, "please don't be mad at me."
My glare tells her I'm going to kill her.
"Let me get you a glass," Gavin offers.
With a sweet smile, I answer, "Yes, sure. That would be great," even though I could walk the four feet to the table to get it myself.
After the wine is poured, Trish announces, "I'm going to get the food ready."
"I'll help you," I answer, trying not to grit my teeth.
"No, really, Trent and I can do it. You sit down and relax. The sun is just about to set. Tomorrow your Cinderella duties can start," she teases.
My laugh is forced, but that joke always gets me and a real chuckle eventually ghosts out of my mouth. She knows I love cleaning. It's my thing. And since she hates it, when we lived together in the past, she would do anything to get out of cooking and cleaning.
With a glass in each hand, Gavin hands me one. "What do you say we sit on the beach and take in that sunset?"
Sunsets are beautiful and especially at the beach. With that, I can't say no. "Sounds great."
Gavin offers his arm and I loop mine through his. Okay, he's handsome and charming.
How bad can the night be?
Sitting on the sand outside the breaker wall, we fall into easy conversation. "So, Trish tells me you worked for a few artists in New York. What did you do there?" he asks.
My gaze lands on the setting sun. "I was a songwriter."
"Did you like working in New York with all that traffic and all those people?"
I dig my toes into the sand and look over at him. "It's the only place I've ever worked. I don't know any other way."
Gavin sips his wine. "So," he says, "what made you quit and move out here?"
The wind blows and my hair tangles in front of my face. I push it away. "I was ready for a change."
He doesn't look away from me. "Lucky for us. By the way, I saw your work. I think it is fantastic stuff."
Feeling proud of what I've created, I smile at him. "Thank you."
"What if I could sell your songs to well known artists? Would you be interested?"
My heart thumps in excitement. "Yes, of course I am, but there are some things to discuss."
"What are you concerned about?"
I take a sip of wine. "I'm not concerned per se, but I think it comes down to how much you can sell them for, and what your cut will be?"
He shakes his head with a small laugh and swallows a sip of wine. "Something tells me I may be more willing to negotiate my terms with you than I am with most of my vendors."
With excitement in his voice, he goes on to tell me about his label. He's young and seems to have done extremely well for himself.
Looking out toward the fading yellow glow, I push myself up. "We should get back; they'll be waiting for us."
Gavin stands and takes my empty wineglass. "I hope I'm not coming across as being pushy. I just really think we have a win/win here."
"No, not all. I just want to make sure it's a deal that can work for both of us."
Gavin turns to me with a grin. "Trish told me you'd be a hard sell. I just want you to keep an open mind. How about we agree to discuss it another time?"
Seagulls above squawk and I look up and then over at him. "Sounds like a plan."
We walk side by side, and my eyes wander to the house on the right and then the one on the left. Austin lives in one of those houses. Which one? Is he home? Does he see me out here? What will he do when he finds out who I am? How will I react when I see him? Only time will tell.
"Here, take these," Gavin says, handing me the glasses.
Once the trade-off is complete, he opens the gate from the beach to Trish's private outdoor living space. As I pass by, he stops me and whispers in my ear, "No more business talk tonight, I promise."
I smile at him and think he really is charming.
"Oh, good, everything is ready. Sit down," Trish says excitedly.
No longer able to stay mad at her, I give her a grin and look around.
Gavin sets the glasses on the table near my lemonade and rushes to pull my chair out before sitting beside me.
The rumble of tires on gravel has my ears perking up. There has been no activity at either house to the right or left of us all day. The one to the right had lights on when we walked back from the beach, but I saw no one outside.
This is the first sign of life, and I know the car just pulled in to the house on the right because the one to the left has a paved driveway, not stones.
After trying to crane my head, I give up and decide I can't see anything from here.
As soon as I can, I'll excuse myself and run upstairs to take a look.
"Food is ready," Trent says, taking the fish off the grill.
Looks like it will be a while.
I sigh and decide to put my mind to rest. It probably isn't Austin anyway, and even if it is, he's no one I need to be dwelling over. I was more than likely just another almost notch in his belt. With that stark, cold reality, I vow to enjoy the night.
After all, Trish worked hard on this. Soft rock is playing in the background; the table is set with real dishes, not paper; more wine has been poured, and candles are flickering all around us.
It's almost romantic.
Too bad the man beside me isn't the one I want to get romantic with.
But then I think about the list. About the ten items on it and how Gavin could help me check off number two or number three.
I look over at Gavin, who is grinning at me.
Austin
After pulling a double to try to earn some extra cash to pay my sister back for the plane ticket, I walk into the house and immediately want to leave.
With my head still on the girl from the plane— the smoking-hot sex we were about to have, the sudden derailment, and then her more-than-uptight response to getting caught— I just can't handle it tonight.
Needing to get the fuck out of here, I quickly hop in the shower, run my hands through my hair, throw on a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and pause for a moment to shake my head.
Shoving my feet in my boots, I head over to Trish's to catch a beer with her.
The path down the side of Trish's house to the kitchen door is wetter than usual and my boots slosh over the stepping-stones. Slowing my pace, I'm surprised to hear music playing. When I look ahead, the patio has a dim glow coming from it.
Can't remember the last time I saw Trish outside on the patio at night; she's normally either inside on the couch or out at the beach.
"Hey, Trish," I call out as I round the corner, "how about a beer?" Just as I'm about to hustle for the kitchen door and put the twelve-pack in my hand in the refrigerator, I stop dead in my tracks.
No fucking way.
I can't move.
How did she get here?
Maybe the sun got to me today and I'm seeing things. I blink a couple of times to be certain. Nothing changes, though. The image in front of me is still that of her. The woman from the plane, the one I thought I'd never see again, the very same one I haven't been able to stop thinking about.
In an instant, our gazes lock. Her eyes are wide, not quite as startled as mine but almost, and her mouth falls open. There are words to be spoken. Introductions to be made. Right now, though, I can't seem to do anything but stare at her.
From the minute I first laid eyes on her, there was something refreshing about her. Sure, she's a natural beauty with all that shiny brown hair and that killer body, her softly upturned nose, and those stunning hazel eyes. Oh, and I can't forget those long, long legs or pink lips, either. Yet, it wasn't just her looks that attracted me to her.
It was her sharp wit, her ability to laugh at herself with the fucking sexiest laugh I'd ever heard, and that quirky guard that she had up and then let down so easily. Which was dangerous as well, and I damn well knew it. Hence why I didn't try harder to go after her. I wasn't anything she needed, and I knew she wasn't anything I needed in my fucked-up life right now.
Everyone at the table is already turned in my direction. When my gaze circles the seating arrangement, the wine, the candles, the empty dinner plates, and the guest list, I feel an odd sense of outrage. The girl from the plane dumped me like I was nothing, and now she's getting cozy with that douchebag Gavin Young.
Young.
Fucking douchebag Young.
Shitty label man with a bad rep for fucking every artist that works for him, and a little roughly, I might add. Word is that his fraternization policy is strictly enforced in a way that comes across as fuck me or be fucked.
What is Trish thinking, bringing him around her best friend?
Then again, she might not know. I do only because I've heard about how unethical his business dealings are.
"Austin," Trish answers in surprise, her eyes darting to the girl from the plane that must be her best friend.
Does Trish know about her friend and me?
If so, how?
No invitation is given to join them. So, I have two options here. One, I can be cordial and say "sorry, I didn't know you had company" and leave. Or two, I can sit the fuck down and officially meet the girl Trish has been gushing about since I moved next door six months ago. The same one I already had my mouth and hands all over.
The first is unacceptable. The second is bold. I go for it. "Hey," I raise my arm with the beer in it, "mind if I join you? I have enough to go around."
How can she say no to that? Right?
Trish jumps to her feet, her eyes still on her friend. "No, not all. We have leftovers if you're hungry. Let me grab you a plate."
Like I said, she wouldn't say no.
Fidgeting in her seat, the girl from the plane looks like she might pass out at any minute.
This is going to be very interesting.
Stepping closer to the table, I shake my head. "Thanks, but I grabbed something at the beach."
Trent gets to his feet and holds out his hand. "Hey, man, how are you?"
I plop the twelve-pack of Corona in the center of the table, closer to my almost fuck buddy than any of the other three, and then I grasp his hand. "Living the dream, man, living the dream."
Clearing space for me on the table, he and Trish begin to stack some of the dirty dishes. "Austin, you know my bro, Gavin, don't you?" he says.
The douchebag stands and the girl from the plane follows.
Oh, good, we're all standing around the table now. Perfect. Fucking fantastic. Maybe we can join hands and say a little prayer.
"Yeah, we've met." I offer the douchebag my hand and we shake.
"Austin Moon," Trish says, sounding more cheerful than she had at first, "this is my best friend, Ally Dawson from New York."
Ally.
I like it.
It sounds good on my tongue.
Being a dick isn't something I make a habit out of, but there is no pretending we hadn't almost fucked less than twenty-four hours ago. Determined to make sure she hasn't forgotten, I step around Trish and Trent and dive right in to kiss her cheek, my hands grasping her arms maybe just a little too hard while I do. "Ally," I growl into her ear and then pull back. "I didn't think I'd see you again." Considering the way you bolted on me, I don't bother adding.
She shivers under my touch and this close to her, I can see the rise and fall of her shoulders as her breath catches. "Trish told me you were her neighbor," she admits.
"You two know each other?" Trent asks, refilling wineglasses all around the table.
"Yeah, small world, right? They met on the plane," Trish tells Trent.
I throw Trish a confused look.
She shrugs. "Ally saw you talking to me at the airport, and asked if I knew you." Trish seems a little uncomfortable talking about it.
She knows.
She definitely knows.
"Let me get you a glass," she offers.
"No, I got it," Trent tells her and heads toward the house.
"Hey, man, I'm good with beer," I call to him.
"Then let me grab another chair from inside."
"Thanks, babe," Trish tells him, sitting down.
It was either going to be a chair from the kitchen or I'd be pulling a lounge up to their cozy table for four and stretching myself out on it. Maybe not a bad idea after all.
Gavin looks toward Ally and with his chin, indicates she should sit too. Blood boils in my veins when she starts to do so because of his silent request. Do they know each other? They can't. She's new and must be unaware of his reputation, in business and with women.
Unable to control myself, I move to push her chair in. "Here, let me help you," I offer, invading her space.
Ally looks like she's still having trouble breathing. I'm available for mouth-to-mouth if she needs it. I am certified, after all. "Thank you, but I'm good," she responds, her voice catching on the words.
Happy with the reaction I elicited, I let go of the chair, grab a beer, and offer it to Trish. "They're cold."
She nods, reaching out her hand. "Sure, I'll have one."
The gentleman that I am, I pop the top before handing it to her. Hoisting another bottle, I offer it to Gavin even though I'd rather not. Couldn't stand the dude before, really can't now. He raises a hand in refusal. "I'm good with wine."
Thumbing the top off, I tip the bottle back for a long swig. I need it.
Ally's eyes are on me, watching me, and that breathing of hers seems to be growing a little more excited with every swallow I make.
Time to find out what her deal is.
Figuring why the hell not, I take Trent's seat.
"Did you want a beer, Ally?" Gavin asks, glaring at me as if I'm the asshole he thinks I am.
"She doesn't drink beer," I bite out. "It bothers her stomach." And I glare back, knowing he is the asshole I think he is.
That shuts him up.
"Here you go." Trent is standing close to the table, with one of Trish's zebra leather kitchen chairs in his hands. When he sees I'm already sitting, he sets it between Trish and Gavin. "I'll take it."
I should offer to switch, but at this point, it's done, and besides, I'm right where I want to be.
Gavin stares at Ally and me as if trying to figure us out. "So tell me about how you two met."
She seems to have recovered from the shock of seeing me and sits up a little straighter, squaring her shoulders. This isn't the time to be drooling over a girl, but she looks sexy as fuck in that white dress, which hugs her small tits tightly and keeps them in the perfect place. I doubt she's wearing a bra, and the thought of sliding my hand inside the fabric gives me cause to sit up straighter myself.
She glares at me with what looks like a frown. When she turns and sweetly smiles at Gavin, it twists my gut. What the fuck? "We sat next to each on the plane, that's all," she tells him, not sounding the least bit convincing.
His dark eyes shift between the two of us in suspicion and then land on her hazel ones. "So let me get this straight: the two of you were seatmates for the long plane trip from New York to Miami and the entire time you never discovered you'd soon be neighbors?"
"No, we didn't." She laughs. "Crazy, right?"
Laughs. Like it's fucking funny. There's some insane madness circling my brain right now and I can't help but scowl. It's anything but funny. If she'd spoken to me after the bathroom, we might have.
The douche leans closer toward her and I tighten my grip on my bottle. "Guess you didn't talk much," he says smugly.
Fucking hell. Now that simply isn't true. Finishing another swig of my beer, I lean my elbows on the table. "Sure we did, didn't we, Ally?" I say to her— or maybe I hiss it, I'm not certain. Everything is a little red right now in my haze of anger. "In fact, our mouths never stopped moving," I toss out there because I can. Because it's true. My tongue moved inside her mouth, hers moved inside mine, we explored each other like we were searching for food and hadn't eaten in days.
Okay, so maybe everything is a little green, not red. Still, I'm not jealous. Just pissed. Fucking pissed as hell, actually.
There's this part of me that wants to go on and tell him that we got to know each other so well in fact that we almost fucked in the bathroom, but when I see her body stiffen, I stop myself.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Trish nudge Trent. Seconds later, he clears his throat. "Hey, Gavin, what do you think about calling that record label we know of, Ramone Records? Or maybe we can try Starr Records?"
Gavin swings his gaze toward Trent. "Yeah, that's a great idea. I'll do it tomorrow."
"I'm actually already working with a record label that I feel secure in." says Ally.
Smart girl.
The smirk on my face isn't for any reason. "So, you're thinking about selling those songs?" I ask her.
Ally switches her gaze back to mine and her eyes are small slits of fiery anger. Whoa, she is pissed. "Yes, I am. Trent and Gavin have already offered to help me out," she answers tersely. "And how do you know about them?"
Trish puts her hand up. "That would be me. I told him about your songs and how I thought you should sell them since you have stage fright and Austin is into music."
Gavin breezes right over this small exchange. "Listen, Ally, I know I said no more business tonight, but you really should consider us."
Gavin is an insistent bastard. A little pushy, if you ask me. "Starr Records is shit," I blurt out before Ally can even answer him.
Everyone around the table swings their heads in my direction.
Okay, I could have been a little more tactful.
He looks like he might lose his shit, and on me. Come on, bring it. I'm so ready to take him on. But when Ally hisses, "How would you even know anything about it? You're a lifeguard," I feel like she just slapped me.
Defenses up, I tell it like it is. "I know that because he's terrible with his artists."
Gavin points his finger at me. "You don't know what you're fucking talking about."
I push up from the table, ready to lunge across it. "Yeah, I do."
Ally grabs my arm and glares at me. "Stop it."
I glare back. "I will if you talk to me. Alone. Right now."
Two choices. Ignore me and learn how badly this douchebag runs his business or talk to me and I'll stand down. She looks at me with those big eyes filled with anger. "Yes, talking is probably a good idea."
I give her a nod. It's about fucking time she tells me what happened on that plane. Ally turns to Gavin and whispers something. My fists ball at my sides, ready to take him on. He nods and then glares at me. "We aren't done here, Moon."
Plucking the beer from the table if only to stop myself from punching him right this second, I glare right back. "No, we're not, but our beef is meant for another place."
I look toward Trish. "Sorry about this."
She glares at me, too.
This mood of mine has put me in a ton of shit.
"Come find me, anytime. You know where I am," Gavin barks out.
"I will," I tell him, and then stalk for the privacy doors that lead to the beach with Ally hot on my heels.
The door slams closed behind her and I keep walking all the way down to the water. When I reach the shoreline, I drop the beer to the sand and turn around.
Within moments she catches up to me. The moon and stars above are our only light, and the beach is quiet except for the sounds of the waves lapping against the shore. We're alone. All alone.
Ally points her finger at me. "Why are you being such an asshole?"
Tired of this game, or whatever it is, I step toward her and the words slip off my tongue without thought. "Why are you being such an uptight bitch?"
The look on her face is as if I'd stabbed her. Rather than responding to me, she starts running down the beach.
"Ally, wait," I call out.
"Go to hell."
Baby, I'm already there.