Finding It (Losing It, #3)(13)

I turned my head sideways, just enough so that I could talk and keep from suffocating on my pillow.

“I’m going to blow your brains out if you don’t talk a little quieter.”

She smiled like I hadn’t just taken a stroll into homicidal territory. I had learned one thing the night before … Jenny and I were really alike. Scary alike. It was a little like hanging out with my clone. Well … a clone that wasn’t hung up on some guy she was never going to see again.

She said, “I have a solution.”

“Does it involve ritual suicide? I’ve always thought that would be an interesting way to go.”

“Damn. You’re morbid the morning after. No wonder you say you never have any issues ditching your one-nighters. They’re probably actually in a ditch somewhere.”

“Ha. Ha.”

In a much quieter voice, she said, “So, I was thinking we’d get some coffee, maybe add a little something special to yours. You know, a little hair of the dog. Then we’re going shopping because we’ve got plans tonight. Epic plans.”

Whoo-hoo. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Epic plans.

“I’d rather take an epic nap.”

“Come on!”

I wanted to bury my head under my pillow and forget the world.

I said, “Go shopping with your friends.”

“They’re guys. They’ll just be obnoxious and impatient the whole time. Besides … you’ll like this. Trust me. Close your eyes.”

Gladly.

“Picture a gorgeous guy. Are you picturing him?”

Despite all attempts to do otherwise, I was picturing a very particular gorgeous guy. The same guy who’d been stuck in my head for two days now.

“Now picture him shirtless, in swim shorts, and dripping wet.”

Damn it. Why did my imagination have to be so good? There was no way I was going to get out of my rut if I kept this up.

“Now multiply that times a hundred, add some music and alcohol, and that’s what you and I are doing tonight.”

“Uh … Jenny. I don’t know what kind of geography they taught you in Canada, but Hungary is landlocked. I don’t see any beach parties in our future.”

“Who said anything about a beach, drunky? We’re going here.”

She literally shoved a flyer into my face. My head ached as I tried to focus on the writing.

I saw the picture first. Some kind of rave with tons of people in bathing suits looking like they were having the time of their lives.

Above that, the title read, “Night of Baths.”

When I sat up to take a look at the flyer, Jenny took off rambling. “The guy at the front desk, you know the one with the eyebrow ring?” Oh, I knew him, all right. He’d provided an excellent welcome my first night in Budapest. “He said it’s similar to a pub crawl, but instead of bars you go to these thermal bath places that have been around, I don’t know, a bazillion years. Everyone wears bathing suits, gets trashed, and stays out all night long.”

At the moment, my stomach didn’t seem up to another all-nighter.

“I don’t know, Jen—”

“What do you mean you don’t know? This sounds amazing. Plus, it’s my last night in Budapest. And I could use a wing woman if I’m going to snag Tau.”

Right. I vaguely remembered her mentioning something about liking him the night before. I guessed it was good I couldn’t manage to drum up any attraction on my end, then.

“Come on, Kelsey. You’ll regret it if you don’t. This is like a once-in-a-lifetime party.”

Between the regrets I already had and the ones I was scared of having, life was starting to feel like an obstacle course of remorse.

“Okay. I’ll go.”

She squealed, and I swear my brain screamed in protest.

Quieter, she said, “Sorry. Got excited. You won’t regret this Kelsey. We’re going to find some hot swimwear, and this will be the highlight of your trip. Just wait.”

She was right. I just needed to get rid of this headache, and I’d be able to think a little clearer.

And maybe I would take it easy tonight. I could have fun at this party without alcohol. My liver could probably do with a bit of a break.

I’d help her get Tau and find a guy of my own. Then I’d be back on track, and could move forward.

Jenny, John, Tau, and I bought wristbands that allowed us entry into all of the baths and covered our transportation between the different venues. We shucked our cover-ups, checked our things, and then walked into what I could only assume was an alternate universe.

I’d opted against the sleazy bikini that had first caught my eye, and instead had bought a black-and-white wraparound number that crisscrossed over my chest, wrapped around my rib cage, and then crisscrossed at the small of my waist once more before tying to my bikini bottoms at each hip. I looked hot, but fashionable; and in the sea of skimpy triangles, I stood out as a challenge, which was exactly my intention.

This venue flashed with neon lights, thumped with remixed techno music, and shone with, dear Jesus, so much skin. I saw bikinis and Speedos and even an acrobat hanging from the ceiling. And the cherry on top? There were fire dancers along the edges of the open pool. As in people … dancing with flames. Serious insanity.

Set against mosaic tiles and marble columns, I felt like I’d time traveled back to the hedonistic festivals I’d studied in theatre history in honor of the Greek god Dionysus; though, I didn’t know enough to know if the architecture was Greek or Roman inspired, so I suppose it could have been Bacchus. Either way, it was like Woodstock meets Sea World meets Cirque du Soleil.