Dare Me by Ella Frank
Bash
“EARTH TO BASH. You gonna open that, or do you plan on hugging it all day?”
I blinked at Lucas staring at me from across the table, his dark hair scattering in every direction from the combination of the wind blowing off the ocean and the overhead fans on the balcony. It was Sunday Funday, usually my favorite day of the week, when the besties and I commandeered a table at the Overlook on the beach for brunch and gossip. Today, however, I knew the topic of choice would be my unfortunate lack of love life, but I’d promised Shaw I’d get the sulking out of my system and get back to my fun-loving self.
Well, after getting gloriously inebriated today, that was.
“I told you he was out of sorts,” Jackson said, leaning into Lucas’s side. “Seems a certain someone in Chicago has messed with his brain a bit.”
“My brain is perfectly satisfactory.” I sniffed.
Lucas let out a snort. “Yeah, well, you think you could manage uncorking that bottle while you pout and don’t think about this guy? Or should I say phantom guy?”
I tucked the unopened champagne bottle farther into my chest. I’d already shared one bottle with the others; I wasn’t about to let them hinder my chances of severe intoxication. Although the buzz in my head felt pretty good at this point. “You want some of this and you’ll have to pry the bottle from my cold, dead, and superbly manicured hands.”
An awkward silence fell over the table, and then Lucas raised his brow. “Shaw? Some help here?”
Shaw put his arm on the back of my seat and said, “Bash, if you want the bottle to yourself, it helps to open it.”
I supposed he had a point.
I slowly drew the bottle away from my chest, watching for any grabby hands, and then, as I began to undo the cork wrapping, Shaw waved to get Wanda’s attention.
“Could we get another bottle, please, Wicked? Bash is a little thirsty today.”
“Selfish, more like,” Lucas muttered.
Wicked Wanda, as we called our regular waitress at the Overlook, winked over the glasses sitting low on her nose. “Anything for my boys.”
As I smiled up at her, Lucas made a grab for the bottle, and I swatted his hand away.
“You should really learn to share,” Lucas complained, sitting back in his seat.
“Hah!” I said as the cork popped. “I don’t like to share. And why is that?”
“Oh, pick me,” Trent said sarcastically, raising his hand.
“Yes, Knox?”
“Because sharing doesn’t get you to the top.”
“Ding ding ding. So no sharing. Not with you, even though I like you sometimes. And definitely no sharing with the opposite sex. They just take, take, take, stealing all the good ones. They can get their own damn bottle.” I filled my glass to the top, downed half of it, and then filled it some more.
“I told you this was about him,” Jackson whispered.
“Opposite sex, huh?” Lucas said. “Well, that’s why you don’t—”
“Go after the straight ones, yes, I’m aware. Feel free to slap me.” I held my hand out for someone to do just that, with Lucas the only taker. But before he could give me a good smack, Jackson blocked his arm.
“Violence is never the answer, babe,” he said, and Lucas rolled his eyes but dropped his arm.
“It’s sometimes the answer. Bash looks like he could use a good knockout.”
“Anyway. Are you gonna tell us what happened that’s gotten you so riled up?” Jackson scooped a forkful of eggs. “And don’t say ‘nothing,’ because I saw you spend the better part of Friday afternoon mumbling in your office and peeling off your nail polish.”
I glanced down at my bare nails—which were never bare—and frowned. “Please excuse the cliché, but the answer is… I played with fire and I got burned. There. How’s that for a reason to get riled up?”
“Details might help,” Shaw said quietly beside me, but not quietly enough, apparently.
“Wait, you know? What the fuck?” Lucas took turns glaring at Shaw and me until Wanda came back outside carrying a tray with a bottle of champagne, a carafe of orange juice, and some extra glasses. She uncorked the bottle and then left, letting the guys have at it.
Once they’d all made their mimosas, I raised my glass. “Cheers, bitches,” I said, clinking my glass against each of theirs and then taking another long swig. It was necessary for the story I was about to tell.
I started at the beginning, even though they’d already heard about the fire rescue, but a refresher was necessary for context. Then I spilled every last detail, finding that the alcohol more than helped temper the embarrassment from being such a fool.
As they all quietly took in what I’d told them, Trent reached for a biscuit from the basket Wanda had left for us and sliced it neatly in half. “Don’t kill me for this, man, but… I’m kinda liking the fact that someone has you in such a state. You’re always so… What’s the word…”
“Pigheaded?” Lucas supplied.
I let out a gasp. “Rude.”
“I was going to say others would call him appealing yet unattainable, but that works too.” Trent winked, and I rolled my eyes.
“Please. I’m goddamn amazing. I mean, who doesn’t love me? It’s impossible.”
“Yes, your humble personality is so irresistible,” Lucas said dryly.
I scoffed. “I know, right? What does this girl have that I don’t?”
Shaw picked a banana up from the basket in the middle of the table. “Not one of these.”
Laughter broke out around me, and I had to admit that if it wasn’t so annoyingly true, I probably would’ve joined in.
“See, here’s the thing.” Shaw reached back into the fruit basket and held up a peach beside the banana. “Some people enjoy peaches. I don’t. You don’t. Lucas doesn’t. Apparently Jackson and Trent have dabbled and think they’re pretty all right. I mean, next to a banana, it’s nothing to write home about, but maybe someone who has only ever tasted a peach wouldn’t realize they would fucking love a banana.”
“Jesus Christ, I think we’re aware of the concept,” Lucas said.
Trent jumped in, waving Lucas off. “I think where Shaw was going with this was that you didn’t really give this Kieran guy much of a chance to tell you what he preferred once he had a taste. Hell, for all you know, and from what it sounds like, he was all about the damn banana. Which means maybe you got your nuts twisted for no reason.”
“Or maybe he didn’t,” Jackson said.
Shaw nodded, but I couldn’t tell who he was agreeing with until he said, “Because you pussied out and left, you lost your advantage. And not responding to him at all? You’re kinda forcing his hand to choose a peach, know what I’m sayin’?”
“Poor guy.” Jackson shook his head as he brought his glass to his lips. “Could’ve deepthroated a banana.”
When we all jerked our heads in Jackson’s direction, he lowered his glass, flushing a little.
“What? You guys were thinking it.”
Lucas let out a satisfied laugh and stretched his arm out along the back of Jackson’s chair. “That’s my guy, right there. Master deepthroater, and he loves it.”
“You’re a bad fucking influence,” Shaw said.
“Jealous?”
Shaw and Trent looked at each other and snorted at the same time. “Hardly,” Shaw said.
“Hel-lo.” I grabbed a fork from my barely touched plate and tapped it against my glass to get their attention. “I’m glad your love lives are in a state of bliss and all that blah, blah, blah, but can we please focus back on my predicament?”
As I sucked down more champagne, Lucas smirked. “Yes, let’s please talk about your predicament. Do you think your predicament will ever work again, or did the firefighter burn that too?”
“I thought you said he didn’t actually exist,” Trent shot back.
Lucas shrugged. “Okay, so did the firefighter you hallucinated break your predicament—”
“Oh, for the love of sweet Susie Q, will you please stop saying that word.” I gave myself another refill, even though I was more than aware I should probably slow down.
“Maybe you could actually eat something while you destroy your liver?” Shaw took my fork, stabbed a bit of the eggs Benedict I’d cut into, and held it up to my lips. “I really don’t wanna hold your hair later.”
“No?” I slid the food between my teeth, and as I chewed, I sang, “But that’s what friends are forrr.”
“Fill him up,” Jackson said with a chuckle. “Otherwise he’ll try to get on the table and karaoke soon.”
I gasped, perking up. “That’s a fantastic idea. Any requests?” I shoved away from the table, but as I went to stand, the room began to spin a little and Shaw caught my arm. He lowered me back into my seat and pushed the almost-empty bottle away before pointing to my plate.
“Eat and we’ll help you figure out a plan.”
“Ooh, a plan,” I said, scooping another bite into my mouth. “I like plans.”
“Where’s your phone?” When I shrugged, Shaw sighed and reached into my pocket, sending me into a giggling fit.
“Shaw, honey, Trent’s right there.”
He smirked as he dug in a little further and finally reached my phone. When he pulled it out, he held it up to my face to unlock it and then opened up my messages.
“Holy invasion of privacy, Batman,” I said, reaching for the phone and not getting anywhere…especially since it kinda looked like there were two of them.
“Shut up. We’re gonna help you. Right, guys?” There was a murmur of agreement as Shaw clicked on Kieran’s name. He tsked. “Sebastian Vogel, you bad, bad boy. We’ve even got a picture, fellas.”
“What?” I jerked up out of my seat, ready to snatch the cell for real this time, but Shaw’s arm was like a friggin’ tree trunk I couldn’t seem to move.
When Shaw held up the phone so the other guys could see the screen, every one of them whistled and threw out a few expletives of appreciation. Then he turned the screen to me and winked. “Damn, Bash. You sure you wanna let him go?”
The photo Kieran had taken of himself at the firehouse gym lit up the screen, a smirk on that handsome face, and God… How had I not pulled up that picture and stared at it every minute of every day since I’d left?
No, I knew why. It hurt too much to see him and know I could never have him. Not all of him. I could be the hidden little secret for a while, but eventually it would’ve ended badly, and I couldn’t let that happen.
But did he have to be so unbearably beautiful?
I lifted my glass to my lips, swallowing the tiny bit left, and then I motioned for Shaw to hand me the bottle he’d moved away. When he didn’t make a move, Lucas picked up their bottle and refilled my glass, earning a scowl from Shaw.
Lucas shrugged. “When a man’s in pain, let him self-medicate. He’s not hurting anyone. And let’s be real, that”—he pointed to Kieran on the screen—“is a face worth self-medicating for.”
Oh, Lucas, I thought, laying my free hand over his as I indulged in my champagne once again. This time, you’re absolutely right.
