The bar is alive with a sea of white. There’s a DJ and a dance floor.
I stand at the edge, peering in, wondering what to do. I hear a voice. “There you are.”
Bernadette grabs my hand and pulls me into the crowd. “You look hot, girlfriend.”
I smile bashfully. “Thanks.”
“We’re over here.” She pulls me over to Bodie and Basil. They are talking to three beautiful blonde girls. “I’m getting us some drinks.”
“Thanks.”
“Wow.” Basil laughs. “Look at you.”
Kill me now. This is so awkward.
“Look at you.” I laugh. They are both in their matching little white outfits.
“I am going to have some lipstick smeared all over this collar tonight.” Basil widens his eyes. “That’s right.”
I giggle. “I bet you will.”
“Here he is,” Bodie says. We all turn to see Christo walking down the steps. His white shirt is open, revealing his chiseled abs. The shorts are tighter and shorter, revealing thick quad muscles, and even though he’s wearing the same outfit as the boys, somehow, he looks completely different.
Good different.
I angrily snap my eyes away. Damn it, I hate that he’s gorgeous, and more than that, I hate that he knows it.
The boys wave, and he smiles and comes over. “Hey.” He laughs as he holds a bottle of Corona in his hand. “Look at us being all angelic-like.” He smiles to the girls. “Girls.” He raises an eyebrow at them. He glances over at me. “Grumpy.” He nods in a greeting.
Grumpy.
I fake a smile. You have no idea.
He introduces himself to the girls. “I’m Christo. You must be models, right?”
The girls giggle, and I roll my eyes.
Please.
“I have done some modeling,” one of the girls says.
OnlyFans, I bet.
“I knew it.” He smiles. “Where are you from?”
“Germany,” they reply. They have beautiful husky accents.
Bernadette arrives back with a drink for me and passes it over. “Thanks.”
She looks Christo up and down like he’s a piece of meat, which is fitting because he thinks he is. “Christo.” She smiles. “Do I get a kiss hello?”
He crinkles up his nose. “Not now, Bernadette.” He playfully gestures to the girls. “This is my big break with these models here.”
The German girls all laugh on cue, and Bernadette does too. How does he do that? Everything he says comes out smooth.
Ugh . . .
Basil and Bodie smile goofily at each other. I think they like him more than the girls do.
“What do you do?” I hear one of the girls ask him.
“I’m a teacher,” he replies.
A teacher?
“I just love kids, you know,” he continues.
I call bullshit . . .
I look over to see Kimberly waving me out to the dance floor. She’s dancing with a big group of people. I grab Bernadette’s arm. “Come on, we’re dancing.”
Four hours later
I’m feeling very tipsy and having the time of my life.
Who knew that full moon parties were this fun? I’ve danced, I’ve chatted, and we won’t mention how I’ve been watching a certain annoying person more than I would ever admit.
He has a flock-I’m not even joking-a flock of women around him at all times.
Everywhere he goes.
And he’s loving every second of it, the showman and his captive audience.
Laughing and lapping up all the attention. Every now and then I see him say something to Bodie and Basil, and they listen intently. He’s coaching them how to pick up and what to say.
I’m standing near the dance floor, watching everyone. I hear a soft voice from behind me. “Grumpy.”
I smile into my drink. I kind of have to agree with him; he does make me grumpy. “Hello, Christopher.”
“Christo,” he corrects me.
“Is it?” I raise my eyebrow.
He twists his lips, amused. “It’s Christopher, but don’t tell anyone.”
“Do you think Christo sounds hotter?”
“Don’t you?”
“Definitely not.”
He chuckles and takes a swig of his beer. “Are you having fun?”
“I am.”
An awkward silence falls between us. He’s not all flirty and playful with me like he is with everyone else.
“How was taxicabbing today?”
“Hell on a stick.” He swigs his beer again.
“Didn’t you just get here? Why are you working already?”
“Had my credit card stolen and my bank account wiped on my first day.”
I screw up my face. “Ouch.”
“Hmm. Don’t talk about it.”
The DJ gets on his microphone. “Women, turn directly to your left,” he announces.
To the sound of giggles, all the girls turn to their left.
“Grab the man’s arm closest to you,” he continues. I smile. He’s been doing weird games like this all night.
I grab Christopher’s forearm.
“Now, after three . . . take his hands in yours and stare into his eyes.”
“What?” I frown.
Christopher chuckles and puts his beer down onto the ground. Everyone is laughing and joking as they take each other’s hands.
“As we wait for the full moon to come in, we are going to do two things,” the DJ calls.
Christopher and I laugh. This is ridiculous.
“We are going to count down, and then you are going to look the person in the eye. Tell them how many people you have slept with, and then you are going to tongue kiss them.”
The bar erupts with laughter.
What?
“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.”
“How many people have you slept with?” the DJ cries.
Christopher’s eyes hold mine. “I don’t know.”
“One,” I whisper.
I take his face in my hands and kiss him. My tongue slowly slides through his big lips, and he kisses me back.
Slow and tender, and his eyes flutter closed.
Oh . . .
His arm snaps around my waist, and he drags me closer. The kiss deepens.
And as I hear cheering and laughing in the background . . . we keep kissing.
Just the right pressure and a little suction.
He pulls out of the kiss and stares at me. His forehead crinkles. “What was that?” he snaps.
“I kissed you.”
“One?”
Oh crap . . . that’s what he’s been thinking about the whole time?
Embarrassed, I nod.
“One?” He gasps.
“Uh-huh.”
He stares at me for a beat, and his arm snakes around me again, and he pulls me closer. “Come here,” he growls.
Shit.
“No.” I pull out of his arms. “I have to go.”
“Why?”
“Because you have to keep shooting those fish in barrels.” I shrug. “And I have to swim upstream.”