Page 98 of Sour Notes

But for me, it’s a slow descent into madness because I can’t even find relief in that godforsaken shower.

What am I gonna do? Go hide in a bush somewhere to jack off?

Now we’re sitting around on the beach, fit to burst from the souvla—Greek kebabs—we just ate and might be a little buzzed, thanks to Katerina’s more than generous wine pours.

Ok, fine. Full disclosure. The meat helped us sober up a little, but we’re definitely still feeling it.

Mia’s laughing with Layla over fuck knows what. Our parents have all headed back to the hotel early, but Nick has a few friends meeting us here for a little afterparty.

Quite frankly, I can’t think of anything worse. I’d rather be back in our hotel room with my girl, but I can’t very well tell one of my best mates that I’d rather spend time alone not fucking his sister than celebrate his upcoming life sentence—I mean, wedding—with his friends.

I’m supposed to be here for him.

I’m his best man, and so far, I’ve barely acted like it.

Instead, I’m sitting here, watching Mia’s too short hemline fluttering in the evening breeze, pretending I’m not seconds away from hauling her away to bury myself so deep inside her, she’ll crawl instead of walk. For days.

Someone calls out to Niko from further down the beach, drawing my attention away from her naughty strappy sundress to zero in on a group of four—three guys and one girl—laughing and joking as they walk toward us.

Talk about a buzzkill.

Who the fuck are these guys? I don’t recognize them, but Mia sure does—there she goes, hauling ass down the beach. I’ve never seen her bolt like that, not even when we were running to make our flight.

Oh great, she’s flung herself into one of their arms. Can’t say I’m thrilled with this little development.

Nor the smug smile that her douche of an ex is currently sporting while staring over at me.

What are you looking at, you tool?

Forcing myself to relax and unclench my fists, I aim for nonchalant as the group approaches. It’s taking superhuman strength not to walk over there and rip my girl out from under that dude’s arm.

What the hell did she need me here for if she’s sooooo happy to see that guy?

She could’ve just asked him to be her fake boyfriend instead.

The closer they get, the harder I grind my teeth. I’ll have none left if I don’t get her back in my arms soon. This prick looks way too comfortable with my girl tucked against him.

Nick walks up beside me, slapping a hand on my back. “You good, bro?” He quirks a brow.

Fuck, I’m a lousy friend. I’m here for him, but he clearly thinks I’m borderline homicidal, judging by the look on his face.

“I’m cool. Who are they?” Nodding in the strangers’ direction, I take a swig of the beer he handed me.

Nick slings an arm around my shoulder and points at each person with his bottle, introducing them one by one.

He saves the fucker with his arm around my girl for last, clearly drip-feeding me his revenge for dating his sister, judging by his mischievous grin. Can’t say I blame him either.

“And the big dude with his arm around Mia is…” He smirks before turning to shout something at Layla, leaving me contemplating my best friend’s murder.

Does he want me to spill blood on the sand?

I like to think I’m a rational guy, a respectable P.D. lieutenant, but it’s fast becoming apparent I’m anything but when it comes to her. Especially now that my fucked-up mind has joined forces with my misguided idiot of a heart, blurring lines and convincing itself she’s mine to keep.

It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to drag her ex out to the waves and drown his dumbass after what she told me last night so I’m hanging on by a thin thread here. How much more am I supposed to take without it snapping?

“Sorry, man, what was I saying?” Nick looks questioningly at me and, oh look, I grind away another tooth.

Before I can muster up a response, the group joins us.