3. Fallon

Lexie knocks on my bedroom door. We’re supposed to be getting ready to go out for a scavenger hunt tonight, the first planned event of the bachelorette weekend. I’ve spent the last several hours politely mingling, smiling, and giving girls a tour of the house. Tobias dating Chrissy is a taxing weight I’m struggling to carry. I’m exhausted in a way I never could be from running or working out because it’s a deeper, emotional exhaustion.

“You’re not really working, are you?” Lexie walks to where I’m perched on the king-size bed. Though there aren’t truly eighty rooms—only sixty-eight—every one boasts a king-sized bed and its own ensuite. I can’t fathom how much this place cost to build—or rent.

“I needed to clear my head.”

The edges of her lips tip low with a frown. “Have I mentioned how much I hate Quinn in the last five minutes?”

I force a grin, hoping it will ease her guilt. While going through introductions, we learned Tobias brought Chrissy on a trip with Adelaide, Asher, and Quinn, unbeknownst to Lexie, and Quinn suggested Chrissy come this weekend. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re right because you’re over Tobias. Over everything to do with Westfield. Tonight, we’re going to ditch everyone here and have the best freaking night of our lives.”

“Or… we could… stay in.” I close my laptop, unable to wrangle the determination to make this weekend fun and seamless that has been in my veins all week. It’s gone dormant.

Lexie shakes her head, not even considering my alternative. She’s already dressed in a silver sequin dress that plunges low between her breasts. “No. No way. We’re going to beat these bitches and have a good time doing it. Forget all this bullshit and just…” She releases a sigh. “Make tonight a new page in a new book.”

I want to lie and dole out one of a million excuses that would allow me to stay here, in this foreign bed, searching for a dopamine hit with the giant TV mounted across from us, but if I convince her to stay, everyone will know I’m hiding and likely think I’m still heartbroken.

I refuse to be that girl.

I roll to sit up. “Okay, let’s go.” I take three steps toward the door when Lexie grabs my hand, stopping me.

“You can’t wear that,” she says, shaking her head at my shorts and the tank top I changed into, ignoring the fact that I ran the straightener through my hair again, so it’s pin straight, glossy, and worthy of a high-five. I even managed to get my eyeliner even on both sides. I feel good—hot even.

Or I did.

“Why?”

“Because these girls will burn you at the stake and then eat your remains.”

“Graphic,” I accuse.

“You have to wear a dress. Did you pack any?” She moves to my suitcase without waiting for a reply.

“I really have to change?”

Lexie rummages through the contents before pulling out the only dress I brought. “Lavender?” Her voice is filled with disapproval.

“For the brunch on Sunday.”

She shakes her head again and drops the dress back into my bag. “I’ll be right back.” She disappears for only a minute, returning with two hangers. “Black or pink?”

“They’re so short.”

“You have great legs. Show them off.”

“We’re going on a scavenger hunt,” I remind her.

“Not the kind you’re thinking of.” She eyes me, making me feel innocent and naive.

I’m not naive—not completely, anyway, but my drive to play competitive soccer at the highest levels had me missing nearly every evening and weekend of my teens. I didn’t have the opportunity to learn what my peers did or the nuances of flirting, bad decisions, and their repercussions because I was constantly on a field or in a gym.

“What kind of scavenger hunt is it?” I ask.

Lexie shakes her head. “Quinn designed it, so you know it’s going to include drinking and guys. Everyone will be dressed like we’re going to a Vegas nightclub. Change.” She shoves the black dress at me.

“I thought we were ditching them?”

“We still have to ride with them.”

My shoulders sink as I accept the hanger and disappear into my private bathroom. It’s enormous, with a claw foot tub I plan to take full advantage of tomorrow.

I tug off my clothes and slip on the black dress that feels both too short and too tight, clinging to every inch of my skin that it barely covers.

“Maybe I should try on the pink dress,” I say, stepping into my room and tugging on the hem.

Lexie cat calls me. “Absolutely not. We’re doing this scavenger hunt, and then we’re going to find some ridiculously hot guys. I plan to return tonight without a smudge of lipstick left on my mouth.” She heaves a sigh. “Have I mentioned how terrible I feel about that wench being here?”

“Stop. You’re not allowed to feel bad or guilty over Chrissy. I’m fine. Totally fine.” Shockingly, it doesn’t feel like a lie. Though a part of me instinctually wants to hate Chrissy, a much larger part of me wants to warn her about Tobias’s deceiving nature.

“That’s right because you’re way too good for Tobias or Chrissy.”

Her words are meant to assure me, but they send me comparing myself to Chrissy—a hazardous practice I try to avoid. She has flawless skin, shocking green eyes, and dark blonde hair that never frizzes in the humidity. She’s gorgeous and knows exactly how to highlight every one of her attributes.

My brother, Gunnar, swears Hollywood is wrong and that men prefer brunettes to blondes, claiming they’re sexier and more mysterious. I have no idea where that leaves girls like me with light-brown hair that doesn’t fall into either party.

“Let’s go,” Lexie says as I slip on the black heels I packed. She grabs my purse and hand and tugs me out to the hall.

“There you are.” Adelaide’s words have us turning to face her. Adelaide’s white-blonde hair is curled into flawless waves, and her makeup is perfect and artful, as it always is. Adelaide, like Quinn and every other girl here, loves fashion, style, and makeup—three things I’ve never had the time or finances for.

My older cousin’s gaze crosses my dress and then Lexie’s sequin dress. “Tell me you have a backup plan in case this turns out to be tacky, and everyone’s bored.”

“This is Quinn’s deal,” Lexie says.

Adelaide narrows her eyes on Lexie. “As my maid of honor, I need you to have my back. People are already bitching about there not being enough gluten-free options.”

Lexie stares at her for a long second before she nods. “It will be fine. I promise.” Sincerity coats her voice. Despite their many differences, Lexie loves her sister and wants the best for her, which is why this is all so damn hard for her. “If you hear anything, just text me.”

“Text you? You’ll be right there.”

“It’s a scavenger hunt. I doubt I’ll see you until it’s over.”

Reluctance shines in Adelaide’s eyes, but Quinn appears at the end of the hall before she can object. “Come on! Time to go!”

“Any questions?” Quinn asks as the party bus pulls up outside of a bar.

“Who picks the teams?” a girl asks.

“You pick your own team,” a handful of girls reply. The rules and conditions have been repeated three times.

“Up to four people on a team,” Quinn echoes.

I glance at the hot-pink list of tasks for the scavenger hunt again. As Lexie had warned, this bachelorette scavenger hunt was not what I had expected. It’s filled with sexually themed tasks, including faking an orgasm—scratch that—faking a loud orgasm.

“I’ll pay you ten bucks to ask a guy for a condom,” Lexie tells me.

“We’ll call it a draw if you convince a guy to give you his underwear.”

“Deal,” she says. Competitiveness is in our blood and bones. I’m pretty sure it’s even in our smiles as we unload from the party bus and follow the other guests to the sidewalk, searching the list for the tasks I’m willing to sacrifice my ego for.

“Whoever completes their card first wins,” Quinn reminds us. “Time starts now!”

“They’re all going to the same bar,” I point out to Lexie as they rush to the nearest bright lights. “We can go if you want.”

“Not a chance.” She weaves our fingers together, and we start walking in the opposite direction. After a few blocks, we stop in front of a bar made of weathered wood like so many beach properties. Large, caged sconces light the outside, and the sign is aged, holding a hint of charm we’re both drawn to.

I pull open the door, and we step inside.

“Everyone’s old,” Lexie whispers as the acrid scent of cigars chases away our welcome. The place is smaller than it appeared, filled with pool tables and booths where men who appear older than our fathers sit, ignoring us.

“They’ll ID us for sure. That’s on the list,” I remind her.

Her face puckers. “I need to stop being mad at Adelaide for marrying Asher, and you need to get laid for the first time in six months. We’re not wasting our time here.” She grasps my arm and pulls me back out to the boardwalk. Thunder rumbles overhead and has me eyeing the dark skies.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

Her hand tightens with confidence, and we continue another couple of blocks. “Bingo,” she says, nodding toward another sea-weathered building where a group of guys wearing shorts and tees are heading inside. A sign above the doors reads The Leaky Starboard.

“We’re so overdressed.”

“Completely,” she agrees but doesn’t slow down.

The bouncer asks for our IDs when we reach entrance and Lexie flashes me a knowing smile. My only response is to take a picture of her flashing her license so we can post to social media as the rules of the scavenger hunt state.

“Who do you want to get a piggyback ride from?” I ask, scouring the bar as we enter the dimly lit space. “And who will we get a tie from? No one wears a tie at the beach.”

“There’s a bald guy,” she says, pointing to a man wearing a black dress shirt and jeans. “That’s on the list.”

“Let’s hope he’s not self-conscious about it,” I say.

Lexie grins and leads us straight toward the broad man. His gaze catches on us and brightens with anticipation. His reaction has me second-guessing our target, but Lexie doesn’t hesitate, closing the distance between us. “Hi. We’re doing a picture scavenger hunt, and one of the objectives is to kiss a bald head. Would you mind?”

The guy looks between us, then runs a hand over his scalp. He’s cute with an angular jaw, stubbled face, and dark eyes that shine with amusement and appreciation. Suddenly, Lexie’s suggestion to find a cute rebound doesn’t seem so terrible. “Both of you?” he asks.

“Sure,” Lexie chimes.

He smiles and waves me forward.

I move to stand on the opposite side of him and angle my camera so all three of us are visible on the screen. He has to squat a little for us to reach him, and then Lexie and I lean forward and kiss his bald head as I snap the picture.

He’s the first guy I’ve kissed since Tobias, and I kind of regret that a scavenger hunt is what finally coerced me because there’s something surprisingly liberating about the simple action that has my shoulders feeling broader, my back straighter, and a zing of confidence flitting through my nerves that’s been missing for months.

“Thanks,” we tell him in unison, then head for the bar.

He doesn’t call or follow after us, and I’m as relieved over that fact as I am for kissing him.

“Why did that kiss feel so cathartic?” I ask.

“It did!” She spins to face me, her blue eyes that match mine in shape and color—a shade of Roth-blue that my mother and her dad share—are bright with victory. “Why have we been wasting our time pining for jerks who aren’t worth our attention or time?”

I want to tell her I haven’t been and hardly even think about Tobias anymore. I’ve remained single because, after a year of being in a relationship, it became painfully apparent just a few days after our breakup that so many of my decisions and preferences were based on him or us rather than me. I wanted to remember who I was without him, including what side of the bed I preferred to sleep on, my favorite show, my bedtime routine, and even my hobbies. But her sentiment concerns me and makes me look at her more closely.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks.

“If you could stop the wedding, would you?”

Lexie pulls in a breath that has her chest rising, and then she shakes her head. “No. I just hate that Adelaide’s life is so easy—so perfect. Everything she’s ever wanted, she achieves without lifting a finger. Modeling, graduating, finding the perfect boyfriend, getting engaged, becoming an influencer…” She ticks the items off on one hand.

My three older brothers and I have always competed in sports and family game nights, but it’s never included stripping away each other’s pride and dignity like Adelaide has done to Lexie so many times.

“I don’t want to think about it. Not tonight. I just want to have fun.” She turns to face the crowds. “What’s next on our list?”

“Get a picture in the men’s restroom.” I read one of the more benign tasks from the hot pink card.

She raises a brow and then shrugs. “Let’s go.”

We slip through the masses, people’s gazes bolstering my ego more than they should.

“Do we wait for a guy to come out so we can ask if it’s empty?” I ask as we stop outside of the door leading into the men’s restroom.

Lexie lifts a shoulder and is about to push on the door when it swings open, making us jump.

“Shit,” a dark-haired guy says, glancing at us and stealing my breath. I want to say it’s from surprise, but I’m pretty sure it’s a combination of how good he smells—a spicy and crisp scent with a warm undertone that my brain scrambles to place but struggles to because he’s freaking Adonis-like, and I don’t have a single coherent thought.

“Sorry,” I say, trying to look past him.

I fail.

Miserably.

He’s gorgeous. Ridiculously, ungodly, handsome with a squared jaw, rounded bottom lip, dimpled chin, short dark hair, and light brown eyes that are thickly fringed with long, sooty lashes.

He doesn’t move. He can’t because the hallway is so narrow, he’d have to brush past us to leave.

I clear my throat and look at Lexie to kickstart my brain into working again. “We’re doing a scavenger hunt and need to take a picture in there,” I say in explanation for why we aren’t moving.

“In the men’s bathroom?” His voice is like hearing poetry with stances my heart knows. It’s deep, slightly rough, and, like the rest of him, completely hypnotic.

I hold the list up because I’ve lost my voice and forgotten words again.

He steps forward, and the scent of his cologne sends a shiver down my spine. “Bachelorette scavenger hunt,” he reads before pinning me with his caramel-colored eyes. “Are you the bride-to-be?”

“Me?” I squeak, appalled or maybe horrified. I shake my head and clear my throat again. “No.”

“She’s single,” Lexie announces.

Embarrassment stings my cheeks like an icy wind. Despite dating Tobias, one of the most popular and sought-after guys at Westfield, my mind’s eye has too many years of being invisible to guys, recalling the way they looked at me with brutish, angry eyes when I’d beat them in gym class and avoided me when I didn’t smile or laugh at their crude attempts to flirt. There were exceptions—there always are—but those few guys who flirted with me did little to repair my battered ego and belief that I had to choose between playing soccer or being liked, investing my time at the gym and on the pitch, or into my appearance and parties.

The stranger’s lips curl with a broad smile that reveals one of his eyeteeth is slightly tilted. It’s the most perfect imperfection I’ve ever seen, and my heart does a cartwheel as my stomach dips. “There are two guys in there. Once they leave, I’ll watch the door for you.”

Lexie’s eyes bore into me, and I know if he weren’t so close, she’d be insisting I forget about the scavenger hunt and pursue him.

The bathroom door opens, and we collectively shift closer to the wall. The dark-haired stranger is so close that heat from his body emanates against my skin, making me somehow feel colder and warmer at the same time as the man who emerged passes us.

I start to move to gain space, but the door opens again, and a man with shaggy, dark hair looks between us with raised brows.

“Excuse us,” I say to get him moving.

He shrugs and slips past us.

I take Lexie’s hand as the dark-haired stranger opens the door and checks to ensure it’s empty. I swear, his shoulders are as broad as the doorway.

“He keeps checking you out,” Lexie whispers.

I shoot her a look, warning her not to say or do anything.

“All clear,” he says, holding the door open for us.

I follow Lexie inside, where the walls are painted a dark shade of green. “We should probably pose by the urinal so it’s clear where we are,” she says.

We ensure two urinals are in the background and flash a quick smile before I post the picture.

Lexie glances at the counter and then the floors. “I expected it to be disgusting in here.”

I look at the dark-haired stranger still holding the door open for us. “Thanks for your help.”

He flashes another grin, not as wide or joyful but equally distracting, maybe more so because I want to decipher the thoughts that flash in his caramel orbs before he cuts his eyes toward the hallway.

I grab Lexie’s hand, and we head for the doorway.

“If you need help with any more items on your list,” he cracks two of his knuckles and then points toward the back of the bar. “I’m here with a few friends. We’ll help you out.”

Lexie practically glows. “We just might take you up on that offer.”

His gaze slides to mine, and he gives a brief nod before turning and making his way back out into the crowds.

“He’s the perfect rebound for you,” Lexie says.

“He didn’t even ask for our names,” I point out.

“Who cares? That makes it even better. No attachments make for the best rebounds.”

I shake my head because, once again, I’m at a loss for words.

She nods with even more vigor. “If you thought that kiss was liberating, imagine how it would feel to have him between your thighs for one night.”

I hate how heat instantly pools low in my stomach, and my imagination starts orchestrating the idea of him naked, touching me, sliding inside of me.

“He’s way too attractive. He’s probably slept with hundreds of women.”

Lexie smirks. “Good. Maybe he can teach you some things.”