Page 34 of Passing Ships
He reaches up and takes it from my hand. “I thought Sebastian did that,” he mutters.
“Why would Sebastian put my number in your phone?” I ask, confused.
“To mess with me. I guess I was wrong,” he says.
I shrug and take my shot. “No biggie. My turn. Truth.”
“You said the other night that your grandmother and Avie were your two people. What about your parents?” he asks.
I hold my hand out for the bottle, and he pulls it out of my reach.
“You already did your shot,” he says.
“If you want me to answer that question, I’m going to need another,” I say.
He debates for a moment and then reluctantly hands it over.
I pour myself another shot, throw it back, and then look him in the eye. “I don’t have any.”
I lean into Lennon’s side as he guides us down the beach toward the cabana.
He was correct. I should’ve never agreed to go shot for shot with a sailor.
Tripping over my own feet, I topple over and land in the sand in a fit of giggles.
Lennon reaches down, threads his arms under mine, and pulls me back up, mumbling something about drunk women as he knocks sand from my backside.
“I’m clumsy, okay? It’s my one flaw,” I say in my defense.
“Just one, huh?”
“Yep. God knew if he made me any more perfect, I’d rule the world,” I declare, throwing my arms wide as I teeter on my legs.
Lennon’s big hand shoots out to steady me. “Glad he could keep you humble,” he quips.
After our tense game ended when Anson and Parker raided the kitchen for snacks, I stood from the table and promptly fell onto my ass, but Lennon, unfazed by our drinking game, came around and lifted me to my feet.
He helped me out to the beach, where Sebastian and Avie were sitting by the fire with Lisa and Savannah. Depositing me next to them, he started pumping me full of water.
It helped, but my legs still feel like Jell-O.
We reach the cabana, and he leads me up the stairs to the deck. His hand is on my lower back as I carefully climb the steps to the back door. I stand, propped against the frame, as he pulls out the key to let us in.
He swings the door wide and moves back. “Ladies first,” he says as he swings his arm out, prompting me to enter.
“My hero,” I coo as I slide past him.
“Yep, that’s me, Mr. Knight in Fucking Shining Armor,” he says as he follows me.
I drop my heels I was carrying to the floor and walk to the sink. I turn on the faucet, snatch a paper towel off the roll, and dampen it.
Grabbing the edge of the counter, I lift my right leg and swiftly end up on my ass again.
Lennon’s face appears over the island, and he peers down at me. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Washing the sand off my feet.”
He walks around and plucks me up by the waist. He sets me on one of the barstools.