Page 81 of Don't Tell Me How It Ends
My head whips around just in time to catch Ro’s entrance. His tongue wets his lips when he sees me, and despite the cool ocean breeze, my skin sizzles. Ro’s white beach shirt catches the wind as he elbows the guy at his right, exposing the tan shorts slung low across his hips. They both do that little head nod in my direction.
“Quick,” I say to Liv. “Gimme the tiki so I don’t look like an outcast at my own party.”
“Not a chance,” she says, yanking the torch out of reach. “But I promise not to tell him you’ve been stalking the—”
“Hey!” I say, cutting Liv off as Ro crosses the torched perimeter. “You found us.”
“Yeah,” he says, reaching around my waist for a hug that’s over as soon as it starts. “This place is hard to miss.”
He looks back toward the borrowed beach house where a steady stream of waitstaff exit, hoisting themed hors d’oeuvres overhead.
“If this is Zola’s idea of a start-up launch, I need to pick her brain more than I have.”
“She roped our mom into sponsoring a good chunk of it,” Itell him. “And convinced Liv’s dad to let her use his beach house.”
“Well, my dad loves you guys,” Liv says, turning to Ro for the rest. “And if you’ve ever met Zola, you wouldn’t have expected anything less. I’m Liv by the way.” She extends a hand to shake Ro’s. “I didn’t even realize we were waiting on anyone else to join us.”
She raises an eyebrow at me to say,I couldn’t help myself,and I show her the full whites of my eyes, so she knows better than to play with me right now.
Oblivious to our silent battle, Ro shakes Liv’s hand. “Ro,” he says, smiling. “And yes, I’ve met Zola, so I’m not surprised. But I am impressed.” Ro puts a hand on his friend’s shoulders, bringing him closer to our little group until his arm and mine are touching. “This is my boy Matt. I promised him an open bar and at least one phone number tonight in exchange for padding the guest list.”
We all laugh, but my smile falls a bit when I see the way Matt’s watching me.
“I think we can make good on both of those,” I say, my eyes shifting from Matt back to Ro. I tilt my plastic cup toward the bar. “Should we start with the easy one?”
Liv shakes the ice in her mostly empty cup. “To the bar?”
Ro holds his arm out for Liv to lead the way. “To the bar.”
—
With the fire raging in the background, Liv and I sit huddled under a blanket, while Ro and Matt stand, staring off at the ocean. Liv empties her drink first and heads off to get another round.
She’s only gone a few feet before Ro starts moving in her direction. “I’ll see if she needs hands on the way back.”
I watch Ro jog after her till Matt’s voice calls for my attention. “I was wondering how long that’d take.”
“How long what would take?” I ask, wrapping the blanket tighter to block out the slight chill wafting in off the water.
“Ro figuring out how to give us a minute alone,” he says, before draining his cup.
The idea of Ro strategizing his exit makes me want to vomit all over a tiki.
“Oh, no,” I say, careful to keep the bite from my tone. “I think he’s just being nice.”
I do a quick once-over of the beach, hoping, for the first time, that Travis will appear to join us. Or join Liv, rather, forcing Ro to make his return. But the darkened beach is so crowded now that it’s impossible to make out anyone who’s not immediately beside a torch or lit by the bistro lights overhead. Except Zola. I’ve been watching her little clipboard flashlight buzzing around all night.
Someday whenForbescalls me for a quote about the early days of XO by Zo, I’ll think back on how my sister single-handedly saw this night through from conception to execution. And how she did it all with pregnancy-induced sciatica.
I smile at the thought until Zola’s tiny light disappears into another crowd of prospective clients. I’m about to suggest Matt and I relocate to the bar, too, when he joins me on my cushion.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, without explaining how hedidmean it. “Man, it’s such a nice night. A little chilly though.” He eyes the side of the blanket Liv left abandoned. “You mind if I steal some?”
“Go for it,” I tell him. “This thing’s huge.”
At least when I was under here with Liv it had seemed huge. With Matt beside me, it’s like trying to share a hand towel with a giant. A handsome giant, with natural, lived-in balayage, but a giant nonetheless.
Objectively speaking, Matt’s working that L.A., white boy, skater vibe, but I’d still very much like him to get his Avril Lavigneass out of my bubble. Respectfully. The last thing I need tonight is another random guy spitting mediocre game my way. And even on the off chance his game is superb, I’m still too focused on reading Ro’s lips from across the beach to notice.
