Birthday Girl(52)

I walk into the kitchen, keeping the lights off, and stop at the sink, peering out the window into the patio. I’m surprised the cops haven’t been called. It’s less noisy than it was before, but it’s still too damn loud for this late.

I look around the backyard for what caused the thud and my eyes immediately go wide, and I turn away. Seriously, Cole. What kind of friends pull this shit at someone else’s house?

At least two girls are missing the tops of their bikinis, one of them being heavily groped by a guy I can only assume is one of Cole’s buddies as they make-out in the pool. The other girl is lying on a lawn chair, one arm tucked behind her head and her sunglasses on despite the fact that it’s dark out.

I turn around, feeling my pants for my phone. He needs to get those little shits off my property now, but I can’t go out there. Not sure if it would be awkward for them, but it would definitely be weird for me. It’s a safe bet I know their dads, probably.

Where the hell is Jordan? I don’t know why that thought pops in my head, but for some reason, it’s instinct to suspect she’d have a problem with this, too. Where the hell is my phone?

I remember it’s plugged into my charger next to my bed, and I head back up the stairs and down the hallway, entering my room and pulling it off the cord.

At least most of the party has cleared out, by the looks of it. It shouldn’t be too hard to get rid of the remaining eight or so. But the backyard is a mess, and I’ve been more than gracious about this. He better not ask for another damn party for a long time.

Heading back down the stairs, I dial Cole on my phone as I stop just inside the kitchen. Holding it to my ear, I listen as his line rings.

But I soon here a tinkling coming from somewhere in the living room and look behind me to see a light coming from the arm of the couch. It’s Cole’s phone lighting up with my call. Goddammit.

Hanging up, I tap my thumb and click on Jordan’s name, dialing her instead. But as I’m about to hit Send, I glance up and suddenly pause.

She’s there. Standing in the shallow end of the pool, thigh deep, with her arms locked to the front of her body, trying to keep her top on as Cole pulls the tie at the back of her neck. He stands in front of her, staring down, as she shakes her head, trying to resist, but smiling all the same. I can see her embarrassment from here.

A flood of feelings hits me, and so many thoughts swim through my head as I try to look away but can’t.

Don’t look at her, I tell myself.

And my fist curls around my phone, willing Cole to leave her alone, too. She obviously doesn’t like it.

And I don’t like it.

But I can’t keep my eyes from rising to her again, seeing the pink seashell bikini she’s wearing and the thin straps slowly spilling off her skin.

God, she’s beautiful.

I feel a knot wind painfully inside me, taking in her long hair falling against her bare body, and her arms, the only thing holding up the scraps that cover her anymore.

I run my hand over my face, trying to rub away the shame, because if I were Cole I’d be handling her very much the same but a lot more privately. I wouldn’t want anyone else seeing what I get to see.

Blowing out a breath, I drop my eyes. This night needs to end. Maybe I should cut the electricity, so everyone will leave.

But before I have a chance to move, I see that Jordan is out of the pool and moving toward the window. She holds her top with one hand and slips on my old T-shirt again with the other, reaching in and retying the strings of her bikini once the shirt is on.

Her brows are furrowed, like she’s annoyed, and I arch my head, looking behind her to see that Cole has moved on, laughing and throwing a football to someone.

She heads around the house, toward the back door, and I straighten as she enters the kitchen. I connect my phone to the charger on the counter to make it look like I’m doing something.

“Oh, hey,” she says, pausing when she sees me.

I glance over, clearing my throat. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Yeah, I was just going to…” She hesitates as if looking for an answer. “Cut up some watermelon.”

I nod once and walk over to the fridge, reaching on top and grabbing the fruit for her.

She pulls out a cutting board and chopping knife, and I forget about asking her to break up the party. She doesn’t seem to want to be out there at the moment.

Pulling out the other cutting board next to the fridge, I settle in at the counter next to her and slice the watermelon in half for her.

One part stays on my board, I move the other half to hers, and we both start chopping.

The remnants of the party run around the back yard, some kid catching a squealing girl who’s half-naked, and I drop my eyes again, feeling fucking stupid like this isn’t my house, and I’m some seventy-year-old pervert spying on teens gone wild running around my own damn yard.

I see her glance through the window in front of us and then quickly to me, probably gauging my annoyance. There are topless women in my backyard, after all, and I freaked out over her wet T-shirt mowing the lawn the other day.

But instead, I resort to sarcasm this time. “Do you think Cramer next door is enjoying the view?”

She snorts, faltering in her chopping, and follows it with a laugh.

After a moment, though, I hear her taunting voice. “Are you?” she replies.

I widen my eyes a little, surprised, and look down at her. She casts me a cocky little smirk.