“What? Why the hell not?” Freya demanded, nearly spilling her wine in her excitement.
Sophia shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “It just… didn’t come up, I guess.”
But inside, her mind was racing. What if Jake didn’t want to come? What if he thought it was too soon? What if he had other plans? What if…
“Bollocks,” Emily cut through her spiraling thoughts. “You’re scared.”
“Fuck off, I am not,” Sophia retorted, but her voice lacked conviction.
“You are,” Emily pressed. “You like him, and it’s freaking you out.”
Sophia opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. She couldn’t deny it. The thought of inviting Jake, of introducing him to her friends, of making things feel more… real… it scared the shit out of her.
“Look,” Emily said, her voice softening. “I get it. But don’t let fear hold you back, Soph. Take a chance. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Sophia snorted. “He could say no, show up with another girl, and I’d have to spend the night watching them snog while I drown myself in cheap champagne?”
The room erupted in laughter, breaking the tension. Sophia felt herself relax a little, grateful for her friends’ ability to lighten any mood.
“Alright, alright,” she conceded with a smile. “I’ll ask him. But if it all goes tits up, you lot are buying my drinks for the next year.”
With a deep breath, Sophia pulled out her phone. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she began typing.
“Hey surfer boy, Merry Christmas. Have you got any plans for New Years?”
She hit send before she could overthink it, her heart racing as she waited for a response. The room had gone quiet, all eyes on her.
“Fuck’s sake, stop staring at me like I’m about to explode,” Sophia muttered, fidgeting with her phone.
The vibration nearly made her jump out of her skin. She fumbled with the device, almost dropping it in her haste to read Jake’s reply.
“Working, unfortunately, but I can get you in the bar without paying cover if you want.”
Sophia’s stomach did a little flip. He wanted to see her. But then reality crashed in.
“Shit,” she groaned. “I’m supposed to be with you lot.”
Emily leaned over, reading the text. “So? Tell him that. See what he says.”
Sophia nodded, typing quickly. “Meant to be spending it with Em, Lucas, the girls and a couple of Lucas’ colleagues.”
The response came almost immediately. “Can get you all in. Just need a number.”
“Well, fuck me,” Sophia breathed, a grin spreading across her face. “Looks like we’ve got plans for New Year’s, ladies.”
Sophia’s fingers flew across the screen, her excitement palpable.
Sophia: Seven is the magic number, surfer boy.
She bit her lip, waiting for his response. The phone buzzed almost instantly.
Jake: Done and done, little one.
A thrill shot through her at the nickname. She hesitated for a moment, then decided to throw caution to the wind.
Sophia: Are you working all night or do I get to dance with you?
She held her breath, her heart pounding in her ears. The seconds ticked by agonizingly slow.
“For fuck’s sake, Soph, you look like you’re about to have a stroke,” Emily teased, nudging her with an elbow.
“Piss off,” Sophia muttered, her eyes glued to the screen. When it finally lit up, she nearly dropped the phone in her haste to read Jake’s reply.
Jake: I’ll make sure to save a dance for you, sweetheart. Maybe even two if you’re lucky.
“Holy shit,” Sophia breathed, a grin spreading across her face. She looked up at her friends, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a proper New Year’s bash, ladies. And I might just have a hot surfer boy to kiss at midnight.”
The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on Sophia’s face as she lay in bed, her mind racing. The house was quiet now, the laughter and chatter of her friends long faded. She stared at the ceiling, Jake’s face swimming in her thoughts.
“Fuck,” she muttered, running a hand through her messy curls. “What the hell am I doing?”
She rolled onto her side, grabbing her phone from the nightstand. Her thumb hovered over Jake’s name in her messages. The urge to text him was almost overwhelming.
“Get a grip, Soph,” she chided herself. “It’s just a bit of fun, right?”
But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t entirely true. The way her heart raced when she saw his name pop up on her screen, the butterflies in her stomach when he called her “little one” – it all pointed to something more.
She groaned, burying her face in her pillow. “This is not happening. I am not catching feelings for a surfer boy bartender.”
But the image of Jake’s easy smile and those deep blue eyes flashed in her mind, making her pulse quicken. She remembered the way his strong hands had felt on her waist as they danced, the intoxicating scent of salt and sun that clung to his skin.
“Fuck it,” she mumbled, reaching for her phone again. She typed out a quick message:
Sophia: Can’t wait for that dance, surfer boy.
She hit send before she could talk herself out of it, then tossed the phone aside, her heart pounding.
“It’s just fun,” she whispered to herself, trying to believe it. But as she drifted off to sleep, Jake’s smile was the last thing on her mind, and she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something more.
Sophia’s phone buzzed, jolting her from her thoughts. She snatched it up, her heart skipping as she saw Jake’s name.
Jake: Good news, little one. Not working tomorrow night. How about I cook you dinner instead? Then we can have that dance all to ourselves.
Sophia’s breath caught. She typed and deleted three responses before settling on:
Sophia: Dinner and dancing? Careful, surfer boy. A girl could get used to this kind of treatment.
She hit send, then immediately regretted it. “Too flirty,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “Fuck.”
Jake’s reply came quickly:
Jake: That’s the idea. My place, 7pm. Wear something you can move in.
Sophia bit her lip, excitement and nerves warring in her stomach. She typed back:
Sophia: I’ll be there. Don’t burn the kitchen down, yeah?
She tossed her phone aside and flopped back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. “It’s just dinner,” she told herself firmly. “And dancing. With a hot surfer who cooks. And makes you laugh. And…” She groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I am so fucked.”