My head tips slightly and I take a quick glance around before bending to pick it up. I shake off the excess sand and drag it closer, squinting at the floppy piece of shit.

Right across the front, written in big, bold, and, of course, red letters are two words that probably shouldn’t make me laugh, but one flies from me before I can stop it.

With a shake of my head, I crumple their little love note in my palm and toss it in the bonfire on my way back to Cali’s house.

Inside, it’s as if nothing happened and nobody realized I was gone. They’re drinking and talking and laughing like normal. And there’s no point in making a scene or drawing attention to myself by calling everyone out on their lack of awareness, so I don’t.

I’m the dumbass who let herself get dragged out of the party, carried down the hill, and tripped over a fucking log that Cali and I probably put there last night.

So, I pour myself that next round I was trying to avoid and bring the sweet treat of a drink to my lips. As I scan the room, I’m fully aware the three who popped in late were the first to leave.

With me dangling from their hazardous hands.

I scoff, watching the bubbles fight their way to the top of my glass, the words those guys felt the need to feed me dry on my tongue.

It’s ironic to serve me with a tip that plays like a boomerang, only able to head in my direction if it initiated from theirs. Or vice versa—the ‘who leaped first’ is unimportant when two people end up at the bottom of the Pacific. All that matters is the key fact that led them there. They both jumped.

To be aware I was staring means one thing and one thing only.

They were staring, too.

Chapter 2

Jules giggles as she climbs from Dax’s car, flashes him her ass through the open window, and then makes her way toward us.

“You’re almost an hour late.” Cali bites at the straw stuck between her teeth.

“It’s called stamina, my friend.” Jules walks up, and together, we spin, headed for the restaurant. “You should try to find you a toy who has some.”

“Please, I don’t have time for all that. Quick to the punch is more my style.” Cali wiggles her brows, pausing in front of the door rather than reaching for it herself.

Not three seconds later, it’s opened for us, the greeter, I always remember by his perfectly slicked hair, revealing himself on the other side.

“Ms. Marino.” The man smiles at Jules with a small head bow. “Your table has been prepared on the patio.”

He holds a hand out, ushering us past the group still waiting to be seated.