4. Fallon

Isplutter.

Lexie giggles, enjoying my shell-shocked reaction. We head back out to the bar, where the sounds of music and conversation persuade me to find the dark-haired stranger in the crowds of anonymity.

I glance in the direction he pointed, and it only takes a second to find him and another second for disappointment to douse the ember of hope Lexie’s words had sparked.

“He’s surrounded by women,” I say, steering my attention away before he feels my stare.

Lexie turns, positioning herself so she’s less conspicuous as she studies the situation. “They might be friends. It’s hard to tell by where everyone’s sitting.”

A cute guy with black hair walks past, checking out Lexie as he goes, but she’s so focused on dissecting plausible motives for me that she misses it.

“Forget about him,” I say. “We just got here.”

Her dark blue eyes flick to mine. “You should think about it.”

“Think about what? I’m not taking him back to the resort of a house we’re staying at, and there’s no way I’m going home with him. That basically leaves us with the men’s restroom or a dark corner.”

She raises her eyebrows. “The bathroom was pretty clean.”

I roll my eyes and grab the list to review it again, though I’ve memorized half the items. “It’s not happening.”

Lexie lowers the list with her fingers, forcing me to look at her. “Fallon, tell me you saw how hot he was. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, then offered to help us. You don’t ignore these kinds of signs. The universe was shoving you two together.”

I try not to scoff. Astrology is a religion to my cousin. “I’d be a notch on his belt.”

“He’d be one on yours, too.”

“We both know I’m not that kind of girl.”

Lexie raises a brow. “And what kind of girl is that?”

“Someone who can have sex without attachment.”

“How do you know? You’ve never tried.”

I roll my eyes again and follow it with a heavy sigh. “He’ll probably leave with another girl in the next ten minutes.”

Her eyes shine with whatever idea she’s concocting. “I’ll make you a deal. If he doesn’t leave within the hour, you have to ask him to help with another item on our list—and I get to pick the task.”

My heart thunders against the cage of my ribs, wanting to accept despite knowing it’s a terrible deal. Lexie will undoubtedly choose something that will make me wear regret like a second skin. I glance in the dark-haired stranger’s direction again, catching him laughing with the dozen people surrounding him. He’s even hotter when he laughs, and several other women have already taken note as they work to capture his attention.

My heart bruises at the idea of him leaving with someone else. “Deal,” I say, my voice far more confident than I feel.

She grins. “Good, because you weren’t going to have a choice.”

We spend the next hour crossing off tasks on the scavenger hunt, starting with taking a picture of us drinking a blow job shot that turns my cheeks a bright shade of red when the bartender makes me repeat the name for a third time. Lexie gets a piggyback ride from a stranger who convinces her to dance with him for several songs. Then, we find a guy who shares the groom’s name, Asher, who wants to hear all about the scavenger hunt. He looks at our list and persuades his friend, a cute guy with auburn hair, to give us a condom without us having to ask. The guy’s friend becomes my favorite person.

Lexie must agree because she kisses him before leading him to the dance floor.

I wander over to the bar where I can safely keep tabs on them, ensuring he isn’t a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

My gaze tracks back to the corner where the dark-haired stranger sits. I’ve glanced over there more times than I can count. More times than I want to admit.

“Hey.” A male voice catches my attention, shifting my gaze to a guy with medium brown hair, a short and slightly rounded nose, and crystalline blue eyes. He’s cute.

He’d be cuter if I hadn’t met the dark-haired stranger.

“I’m Cam,” he says.

“Fallon.” I don’t mean to lean closer. I also don’t intentionally glance toward the dark-haired stranger to see if he’s watching.

I think I’m possessed.

“That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl.” Cam smiles, and his teeth are bright white, perfectly straight, and slightly too big for his mouth. “Can I buy you a drink?” He looks at my face, not the dress Lexie convinced me to wear.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m actually the designated driver tonight,” I lie instead of telling him I don’t drink.

“One drink,” he insists, lifting a hand to catch the bartender’s attention as a woman beside me orders tonic water, reminding me how green I am to this scene.

I ask for a diet Coke when the bartender looks at me for my order.

“You take your role of designated driver pretty seriously.”

I stare at Cam for a beat, trying to discern the judgment in his tone and whether I should joke or be offended.

Cam clears his throat and glances past me for a second, and I know it’s an attempt to move forward.

The bartender sets a napkin and my drink in front of me and a shot for Cam. As Cam reaches for it, I glance toward the dance floor, finding Lexie. She smiles at me and gives a perceptive nod toward Cam, showing her approval.

Cam tosses back his shot and hides his wince with a smile.

“Are you from around here?” I ask before taking a sip of my soda. It’s too sweet to be diet, but I hold onto the glass.

Cam shakes his head. “I’m here on vacation with my buddies.”

I wait a beat for him to ask me a question.

Then, a second.

And a third.

“Where are you from?” I ask.

“Tennessee.”

I nod as the silence balloons again.

He reveals his too-big teeth with another smile. “Well, have a nice night,” he says, nodding at me.

I stare at him and jerkily nod as he turns and disappears into the crowds, taking a piece of my dignity I didn’t mean to offer him.

“He was cute,” Lexie says, appearing behind me.

“Do I have something in my teeth?” I smile wide to show her all my teeth.

She shakes her head.

“Is my breath bad?” I blow on her without warning.

She laughs. “Minty fresh. Why? What happened?” She glances over her shoulder in Cam’s direction.

“I asked if he was local, and he answered without reciprocating the question and then left.”

We turn to watch Cam talk to a blonde who’s laughing while clutching his biceps with both hands.

“He was clearly looking for an ego boost,” Lexie tells me. “Forget him. Guys with fragile egos are needy shits. Be glad he moved on.”

I’m dumbfounded. “He left because I wasn’t flirting enough? Because I wasn’t touching him?”

“He knew it would take effort to impress you, so he moved on to someone who would be impressed by him flexing and smiling.”

I don’t want to understand. I want to remain stunned and confused, but I know what she’s referring to from hanging out with Tobias. Many of his friends and teammates were revered and treated like gods among men simply because they were attractive and good at football. They never had to work for attention or prove to be decent, yet people showered them with gifts and favors, and women lined up to fawn over them and offer sexual favors.

I hated that world. I hated the expectations that bled into it and made me question my own morals and values more than once.

“Turn off your brain. We’re here for the same reason he is: find someone hot to distract us from this weekend of hell. You just have to remind yourself you don’t want attachment. Impress them with your legs and pouty lips,” Lexie tells me as she fans herself. “God, it’s hot in here.”

I side-eye her as I pass her the Coke I ordered. “I’m not here for a hookup. Just fun.”

“I’m not saying you have to, but just so we’re crystal clear, you shouldn’t feel guilty, judged, or anything negative if you want some guy to screw your brains out.” She takes a sip of the soda.

“How was your make-out session with the condom guy?” I ask, changing the subject.

She shakes her head. “I could barely breathe. I felt like I was thumb wrestling his tongue.”

A giggle steals my breath.

Her blue gaze dances with satisfaction as she takes another sip. “Seriously. I think he was searching for my tonsils.” We fall into giggles before Lexie stabs objective eleven with a pink fingernail: wear red lipstick and kiss a man’s biceps. She uses the same finger to point at a guy with jet-black hair and a muscle tee. “Him.”

She pulls a tube of red lipstick from her bra and paints her lips before passing it to me. We waste no time approaching the stranger and explaining our objective.

He’s amused, clearly pleased that we chose him. He flexes as I take the picture. We thank him and don’t linger.

“Have you seen a guy with a mullet?” I ask, scouring our remaining list of items. “Maybe we should go to another bar.”

Lexie clears her throat.

“Or a tie? I don’t think we’ll find a tie here unless there’s a wedding party. Maybe we should?—”

Lexie clears her throat again, this time louder.

I raise my eyes, but before my gaze connects with hers, I notice the dark-haired stranger from the bathroom making his way toward us. My heart flops like a fish out of water, feeling too large in my chest.

“You’re twenty minutes past an hour,” Lexie whispers. “And he’s still here.”

My excitement, or possibly my ego, punches the air victoriously while my nerves fire off, knowing Lexie’s going to pick something cutthroat—and I want her to.

“Still working on your scavenger hunt?” His voice hits me like a favorite memory. Joy wraps around my stomach, curves my lips, and tap dances on my heart.

Lexie gives me a knowing grin. “I’m going to check in with the others, but we still need help with numbers nine and ten.” She leans close to me. “No one says you have to be just one kind of anything.” She heads for the bar.

“What are numbers nine and ten?” The dark-haired stranger takes a step closer to me but leaves a gap as though allowing me to decide to close it.

I edge forward, and the scent of his cologne invites me to move even closer, but I plant my heels and lift the list, knowing number nine asks for his phone number, and ten requires me to kiss him on the mouth.

He reads them aloud and then raises his playfully bright eyes to me. “What else do you have left?” He leans closer, and his bare arm grazes mine as he skims over the list. He doesn’t move to pull away. His skin is hot and several shades darker than mine, and the heavy cut of muscles are easily identifiable, dusted with dark hair. His veins are thick, his fingers long and wide with short nails and a hitchhiker’s thumb. “I’ll help you finish this whole damn list.”

Internally, I’m squealing as my knees weaken and my heart flutters. I try to act unaffected. I don’t tell him we aren’t allowed to have the same guy check off multiple items. I want him to help me do them all.

I raise my head to meet his light brown eyes, alight with an energy my body craves. Another shiver runs down my spine.

Lust. I remind myself. This is what lust feels like.

I forgot how intoxicating and overwhelming it is. How it drives sanity right off a mountain and into a ravine where pleasure whispers promises, and hope underlines each wish the heart denies wanting.

He’s flirting with me, and I’m mindlessly grinning at him. “We have to take a picture of the action we’re doing,” I tell him.

His only response is to smile, revealing that perfectly imperfect smile I’ve looked at too many times tonight.

I raise my phone as my heart threatens to physically beat out of my chest at the realization that I’m about to kiss someone—not just someone, but this ridiculously attractive stranger—and document it for all to see. I should probably clarify this, but he flashes another smile, this one less bright, as though sensing my unease, and I worry the moment’s going to slip away and, like Cam, he’ll realize I prefer banter and connection to flirting about shallow things like his appearance, and he’ll move on. I want to kiss him. Just once, before the hood of reality is pulled off.

I twist and close the distance between us to kiss him. It’s a peck. A hard kiss that probably would have hurt our teeth or noses had he not shifted at the last second to dodge the impact.

My blood turns acidic, potent with embarrassment that tinges my cheeks red. I just indisputably gave this gorgeous man his worst first kiss.