Chapter Eleven: Lacey

I didn’t get up to change until I heard the shower running in the bathroom, and only then did I find a small, private corner of the suite to strip my travel clothes and shimmy into a short, flowery skirt and a white tank-top that Tilly had promised made my breasts look great. I slipped into a pair of jewel-studded sandals and sat down at the vanity in the living area to do something—anything—with my hair and face. Normally, I didn’t wear makeup, and I did my hair even less than I wore makeup. But this week would be the exception, especially if I could take Tilly’s advice to heart and loosen up a little; find a one-night stand. Maybe two. Enjoy myself. Live.

As I applied a coat of mascara and lip-gloss, adding some mouse to my unruly head of hair to give it some bounce, I couldn’t help but wonder how the week would go sharing a room like this with Ezra. A whole week, under the influence of booze more often than not—would I be able to keep my shit together? Could I keep my feelings straight and not say something dumb? Scare him away? Freak out my best friend? I had to focus on someone else because if I didn’t, I could lose him. A simple slip of the tongue regarding feelings I’d had for him all these years could undo our entire friendship, and I wasn’t prepared for that. I couldn’t live without him. I needed him whether or not I ever acted on those romantic notions. He was my best friend.

Trying not to overthink everything as I tended to do, I sat down on the bed once I was finished getting ready and waited for Ezra to come out of the bathroom. He did a short time later, dressed in a fresh pair of shorts and an actual Hawaiian tee shirt that looked more adorable than it did tacky on him. I stood from the bed to greet him, and Ezra stopped in front of the bathroom door, giving me a once-over. I waited for the inevitable tease; a mockery of some sort, a backhanded compliment, the best friend truth—but none came.

“Wow,” he said instead, running a hand through his tousled, damn hair. “You look very nice.”

A hot flush rose to my skin, and I looked away from him to compose myself, hearing my heart pound in my chest. “Yeah, well, I clean up good, I guess.”

Ezra said nothing to this, merely side-stepped me to grab his wallet from the dresser. He picked up my purse and handed it to me, and I followed him out of the room. Neither of us spoke. There was no teasing. No light conversation. No funny tactics. Had I angered him somehow?

“What are you feeling to eat?” he asked as the elevator opened up to the main floor. He let me go first, following after me, and together we walked through the lobby.

“Something authentic,” I mused, feeling a bit better now that we weren’t in such close proximity in the room. “And somewhere that serves booze, of course.”

“I saw a place that looked fun on our way in,” Ezra said, holding the front door to the lobby open for me. The evening was approaching, and as the sun settled in the sky, it began to change color. Red and orange pastels greeted us as we stepped outside into the warm, tropical evening. We walked side by side, and I couldn’t help but notice that each of us kept a healthy, few-inch distance between the other. Ezra smelled good, intoxicating, and a tingle between my legs told me that physical distance was probably the best thing for us right now.

“This looks great,” I said as we approached an outdoor dining area. It seemed to be the authentic Hawaiian experience, a luau of a place right off the beach's sandy shore. As we waited to be seated for dinner, I couldn’t help but notice all the women’s eyes on Ezra. Many of the tourists were friends on vacation, and they had no problem checking him despite me standing right there with him.

“Look at all the pretty ladies,” I whispered as the server escorted us to our seats. “Your ban is finally up, you know, and you get your pick of whatever woman—or women—you want.”

Ezra smiled at this but said nothing, which was strange for him. Instead, he pulled out my chair for me, a rare gesture that seldom happened, and I sat, trying to figure out the problem and where my best friend had gone.

The server left us with menus, and I glanced down, pretending to decide what I wanted but not being able to focus on the options in front of me. Ezra did the same, but the tension still hung between us. There was no witty banter, no snarky comments or crude comments about the random women around us made by my best friend.

“Can I get you guys started with something to drink?” the server asked a moment later, and Ezra dropped his menu with a nod.

“God, yes. Please.”

Relax, Lacey, I thought. Whatever is bothering him has nothing to do with you. Just put on your best friend pants and find out what’s wrong.

“Can I please get a Corona and a round of tequila shots?” Ezra asked, glancing at me. I could feel my eyes go wide, but if there was a time to go all out, this was it.

“The same for me,” I said, forcing a smile. The server took our food order despite my stomach doing flips, and a few minutes later—after the agony of silence between Ezra and me—she delivered our drinks.

“That’s the stuff,” Ezra said, pouring his beer into a frosted glass with a lime. He took a drink, then another, gulping half the glass in a single swallow.

“Hey,” I said tentatively, reaching for my own bottle. “Is everything okay?”

I didn’t think he would even bother to look at me for a moment. But he did, if not slightly unwillingly.

“Everything is great, Lace. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been acting really funny since we left the room,” I told him. “Is it too weird for you to sleep on the couch? Because I can give you the bed.”

Ezra laughed. Finally. “I’m fine,” he promised, flashing me that familiar, charming smile. “Jet lag, I guess.”

“Well, you better get over it.” I raised my beer bottle, and Ezra met me in the middle, clinking my drink with his. “Because this isn’t going to be a fun trip if you’re mopey the entire time.”

“Mopey?” he repeated with another laugh. I could see him loosening up, which put me at ease at once. He reached for a shot of tequila, tilted it in my direction, and shot it back. “Who’s mopey? Here, try one.”

I almost said no, but I knew there was no way I would survive this week without a stiffer drink than Corona, so I grabbed the shot, drank it, and winced.

“Gross.”

“Only the first few. Then they start going down like butter.”

“Do you make a habit out of drinking butter?” I asked, sticking my tongue out at him. Before he could respond to my quip, a small group approached our table, and I looked up just in time to see Elijah, Ava, and the boy’s dad, Kevin swoop in to say hello.

“Oh, hey, dad,” Ezra said, getting up from his seat to hug his father. I did the same, wincing inwardly as Kevin squeezed me so hard I could swear I felt a rib pop.

“You two having fun?” Kevin asked. He was already holding a beer, decked out in khaki shorts and a Hawaiian tee shirt like Ezra. They could have been twins if Kevin wasn’t twenty-three years older.

“This is actually really nice,” I said with a nod, glancing at Elijah and Ava. “Hawaii is beautiful.”

“Almost as beautiful as the women,” said Kevin, checking out one of the servers who had just passed the table. Ezra rolled his eyes.

“Don’t talk like that around mom,” he scolded. “She’ll kill you and then Elijah and me for letting you get away with it.”

“I don’t care what your mother thinks,” insisted Kevin, taking another swig of his beer. He sounded annoyed, and when I glanced at Ezra, he didn’t look amused. In fact, he seemed rather tense.

“Would you guys like to join us for dinner?” I asked, knowing very well that Ezra would be annoyed but knowing that it would be rude not to ask.

“Oh, no, don’t mind us,” Ava said quickly. “We’re heading to the casino in the hotel so Kevin can show us his poker skills.”

“Poker skills, ha,” muttered Ezra. “Still gambling away all your money and your integrity too, dad?”

“Ezra!” I hissed, but Kevin only laughed. Clearly, he was already more than just buzzed.

“Have fun, you two,” he said, swaying a little as Elijah reached out to steady him. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ezra said with a shake of his head as the three of them ambled away. Without thinking twice about it, I reached out and placed my hand on his arm, a gesture I hoped would comfort him. Much to my surprise, Ezra ripped his arm away as though shocked that I attempted such a move.

“Sorry.” I put my hands in the air, trying to hide my insult, but at once, the worried expression on Ezra’s face cleared, and his body seemed to relax again.

“No, I’m sorry, Lace,” he said, shaking his head. “Seeing my mom and then dad—it puts me on edge. There’s just so much hate between them that it’s almost smothering, and it just makes my dad drink more, and my mom flirt more.”

“Hey,” I picked up a second shot of tequila and handed one to him, then picked another for me. “That’s why you insisted I come along, right? To help you through this? So, this is me, helping you. Take the shot.”

Ezra toasted my glass with a grin, and we tossed back the tequila, chasing it with corona and a bite of lime.

“Damn, girl,” Ezra said as I reached for another. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go this hard.”

“Yeah, well, I can have fun too, right?” I got to my feet then as the band up front began to play some fabulous dancing tunes. I reached for Ezra’s hand, and he didn’t hesitate to take it as we made our way to the dance floor to join the other couples and singles getting down to the music. Damn, I felt great. I could feel that tequila going straight to my head, and I didn’t care.

We danced separately, facing each other for a moment, but after a minute or so, Ezra put one hand on my hip, holding it there. A tingle of hot anticipation crept up my spine, but I pushed it away, knowing it was just a friendly gesture and nothing more. A moment later, his second hand went to the other side of my hip, and he tugged me in closer to him until we were mere inches apart, rocking our bodies to the music. Ezra watched me as we danced, his eyes pinned on my face, unwavering, but I could feel the heat crawl up my skin every time I had the confidence to meet his eyes. Instead, I looked anywhere else but at him, barely keeping it together as our bodies pressed closer. The song ended as my hips met his, briefly pressing against him. Another one quickly began, but the heat of the moment had passed. Ezra’s hands dropped from my hips as I spun around, eyes searching for the bar. I crossed the dance floor and stepped down onto the beach where the bar was, desperate for more liquid courage.

“Another round of tequila!” I shouted. Music from the band pulsated in my ears, drumming and sexy, and my hips began to sway to the sound. I closed my eyes and looked up at the star-lit sky breathlessly. I smiled.

“You look happy,” Ezra whispered in my ear, one arm curling around my waist to bring me in closer. Typically, when he did this, it was a simple friend thing. Nothing I looked too far into. But tonight, a burst of hot anticipation crawled up my skin, and I shivered, but not from the cold.

“I guess Hawaii did me good,” I said softly, turning into him. I expected Ezra to move away, but he didn’t. In fact, his grip merely tightened as the bartender delivered our second round of shots. Ezra handed me one and raised his own in the air.

“To a good time with great friends,” he said, tilting it in my direction. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”