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He retraces our steps back the way we came, flicking his head over his shoulder. "Do you really not want a drink? I mean, a real drink."
I flash him my plastic water bottle. "I'm good."
"Okaaayyy, whatever you say. I could have the catering staff whip you up something special—anything you want."
"It's fine, rea—"
Wait a minute. Actually...
He whirls around, hope sparking in his features, until his eyes meet mine through his dark glasses—then all that hope slowly dwindles. His shoulders sag, low and defeated. "Oh, no—Juliana, no."
"Hmmm." I tap my chin. "Something special, you say?"
"Nononono. Seriously? Pick something else. Literally, pick any other drink but that one."
I flash him a toothy smile.
Finally. It's about time this party got kicked into high gear.
Gosh, we should've come up here a lot sooner.
I sigh deeply, propping my bare feet atop the bamboo coffee table that matches the cabana, shielding us from the sun's setting rays, and sink into the couch. Wiggling my sore toes, I observe the party below. From the vantage point on our private balcony, the music is still loud but a bit more manageable, as I sip on my Shirley Temple.
Hayden pinches the bridge of his nose, as if I'm physically hurting him. "I can't even look at you right now."
I slurp louder, smiling when he groans.
"If someone asks, say it's a vodka cran."
"Who's gonna ask?" I gesture toward the empty seats. "Don't worry, Hayden, no one's here to see me cramp your style."
With a smirk, he drapes an arm across the backside of our couch, the movement flashing the grooves of his tan abs. For a split moment, his fingertips brush my shoulder, stirring a flock of butterflies in my gut. "You're right," he says, gazing down at the party below. "Guess I lucked ou—"
He sits up straight.
"What's wrong?"
"Sit on my lap," he answers quickly.
"What?"
"Hurry. Before they see."
"Before who sees?" I whip my head back and forth, searching the crowd, until I spot a group of eight or so—half girls, half guys—heading toward the balcony's private staircase. "I thought you said you needed a door code to get up here."
"You do, but they're Jeremy and I's close friends. I gave it to them."
I fold my arms. "That doesn't mean I have to be on your lap."
"You really think they'd believe I took a girl up here, just to talk? All alone?"
My gaze ping-pongs back and forth, from Hayden's eyes widening like saucers, to the group below, who must've just made it to the party. In other words, they're not drunk yet. I gnaw on my lips, contemplating my other options that clearly don't exist, until they're at the foot of the stairs.
Fuck.
I shuffle to the other end of the couch, my heart lurching when Hayden picks me up by my waist and sets me onto his lap, a whirlwind of skin-on-skin that tousles both my hair and my brain. I fix my bangs, grappling for a sense of control, except when I do, I find myself not facing away from him but toward, completely straddling him.
"Uh-uhm..."
