A Night Out
1741 Words
Amy POV
By Saturday, I had officially decided I deserved to have fun.
Like, real fun. Not doing laundry while watching murder documentaries fun. Actual, leave-the-house, talk-to-humans, possibly make-bad-decisions fun.
Savannah had insisted we get ready at Austin’s place since she still lived with her parents and, in her words, “Your brother has better lighting and less judgment.”
Austin was out with Bennie doing… something. Man things. Probably arguing about shelves.
I was standing in the bedroom in a pair of denim shorts and a fitted t-shirt when Savannah came out of the bathroom, took one look at me, and nearly had a spiritual crisis.
“Oh hell no,” she said. “You are not wearing that tonight.”
“Why not?” I protested. “It’s basically on the beach and half outside. It’s hot!”
She squinted at me like I’d just said something deeply offensive. “That is a grocery store outfit.”
“It is a perfectly respectable outfit.”
“It is an outfit you wear to buy milk. Or cry in your car. Not go out.”
She shoved me gently aside and went straight for my closet like she owned it.
“This,” she said, pulling out my one nice pair of black leather shorts. “And this,” she added, grabbing a white tank top that absolutely did not leave anything to the imagination. “Put these on.”
“I will look like I’m trying too hard.”
“You will look like you have a body,” she said. “Which you do. Use it.”
“I work with children,” I reminded her.
“Tonight you work with confidence.”
She shoved the clothes into my arms. “Now go change and then sit your ass down. I’m doing your makeup. Something subtle. I promise.”
That promise was a lie, but a very pretty one.
I finally gave in. Going all-out clubbing was not my scene. I liked laid-back, low-effort, emotionally safe environments. But I was in a damn good mood. I didn’t have to pick up extra shifts this weekend, which was basically a miracle. I figured I could let Savannah win this one and a very small part of me wanted to look nice.
She curled my hair into loose, beachy waves and did my makeup in a way that somehow made me look like a better-rested, hotter version of myself.
“There,” she said, stepping back. “Light plum eyeshadow. Makes your eyes pop.”
I stared at myself in the mirror.
Okay.
Damn.
I… actually looked good.
Like, suspiciously good.
Savannah came out of the bathroom again in a short jean skirt and a light blue crop top. Her hair was straightened tonight, smooth and shiny, and it made her look like she should be jogging in slow motion on a beach somewhere with dramatic music playing in the background.
Baywatch had nothing on her.
“Dayum, girl,” I whistled. “Where did you come from?”
She grinned and did a little spin. “Did you notice I put my contacts in? I know, I’m a rebel.”
“You did! Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”
She rolled her eyes. “My glasses annoy me at night. The lights reflect off them in bars and clubs. I need better frames anyway. I keep putting it off.”
She shrugged, then smirked. “Plus, sometimes it’s nice to remind people I have a face under there.”
I snorted. “Fair. A very illegal face.”
“You’ve been putting it off since high school,” I said. “Remember when we tried switching glasses for a day?”
She snorted. “And you fell down the stairs.”
“I could not see depth!”
“And then your foster parents made you come home because you hit your head.”
“And they yelled at me like I did it on purpose. So worth it though.”
We both laughed, hard.
We used to be such nerds.
Now look at us.
Glow-ups with emotional damage.
We called an Uber, and before it got there, Savannah grabbed Austin’s rum from the cabinet.
“Pregame?”
“I’m a lightweight,” I said.
“Which is why you deserve two shots.”
We took them.
We regretted them slightly.
Then we laughed all the way to Sharkey’s Tavern feeling a very good buzz.
Sharkey’s was exactly what you’d expect.
Live band. Loud music. String lights. A bar half inside, half outside, and tables literally set up in the sand. You couldn’t see the water, but you could smell it. The place was packed.
We found a table near the edge of the sand, dropped into our seats, and ordered drinks.
We barely had time to open the menus before two guys appeared like they’d been summoned by the universe.
Definitely tourists and confident as hell. They were almost too cocky. It was actually a turn off until I realized that these guys are temporary and harmless.
One was tall and tan in that I burn once and then I’m fine for the rest of the year kind of way, with messy blond hair and a smile that said he knew it worked. The other had dark hair, broad shoulders, and that polished, athletic look that came from spending way too much time at a gym with mirrors on every wall. Both of them were wearing button-down shirts they had clearly chosen to leave open just enough to be interesting.
They were… objectively hot.
In a very i********:, spring break, temporary poor decisions kind of way.
They introduced themselves, pulled out the chairs like they were in a rom-com, and immediately launched into their life stories….. very Loudly.
They were from Ohio.
They were here for a week.
They had never been to Florida before.
They were very excited about it.
Savannah, of course, turned on her charm like she was born with a switch for it. Laughing. Flipping her hair. Asking questions.
Being effortlessly adorable.
I tried.
I really did.
But I was doing that thing where I laughed half a second too late and nodded like I was agreeing even when I had no idea what they’d just said.
They complimented us on our hair, our outfits and our smiles.
Harmless flirting but very typical for out-of-towners.
After about ten minutes and a drink, I actually started to relax. It became easy… fun even.
And then I felt it.
That prickle.
That horrible, awful, very familiar sensation of being watched.
I looked up.
And there he was.
Bennie.
Standing near the bar like he belonged there. Like the room had been built around him. Dark hair, broad shoulders, that unfair, carved-by-life body that should probably come with a warning label. He was wearing a dark t-shirt that clung in all the wrong ways and shorts that had no business fitting him like that. The lights from the bar hit him just right, all sharp lines and quiet confidence, and my brain very helpfully offered the thought: Wow. That should be illegal in at least three states.
He looked… hot.
Sinfully hot. Effortlessly. Like he wasn’t even trying.
And he was staring right at me.
My stomach flipped.
And pressed to his side—
Tamera.
Of course it was Tamera.
She was “working,” which in Tamera language meant wearing the tiniest, most aggressively inappropriate version of the restaurant’s uniform I’d ever seen. The shirt was cropped just enough to technically still count as clothing, the shorts were so short they looked like they were fighting for their lives, and her hair was done in perfect waves like she was heading to a photoshoot instead of serving drinks. She knew exactly what she was doing. She always did.
She had one hand on Bennie’s arm like she’d glued herself there and was leaning in, talking into his ear like the rest of the bar didn’t exist.
Like I didn’t exist.
He looked… not like he used to when she hung on his arm. Almost like he…. Wasn’t thrilled about it.
His jaw was tight. His shoulders stiff.
He shifted away from her slightly.
She shifted closer.
Of course she did.
My stomach did something unpleasant. The kind of twist that wasn’t jealousy exactly, but also definitely wasn’t nothing.
I told myself I didn’t care.
My brain did not listen.
Bennie leaned toward Austin and said something.
Austin looked over.
Saw us.
And froze.
I turned slowly to Savannah.
“Well,” I said. “Shit.”
Savannah followed my gaze.
“Oh,” she said. Then, slower, with a grin, “Ohhh. The boys are here.”
One of the Ohio guys smiled at us, already reaching for his wallet. “Can I buy you ladies another round?”
I opened my mouth—
And didn’t get a chance to use it.
“Actually,” Austin said, appearing at our table like he’d been summoned by my impending social disaster, “they’re good.”
He planted himself right next to Savannah’s chair like he’d always been there.
Bennie stepped up beside him a second later, tall and solid and suddenly very present.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice calm but his posture doing something very territorial. “They’re with us.”
It wasn’t aggressive.
It was worse.
It was confident.
The Ohio guys blinked.
One of them laughed awkwardly. “Oh. Uh. We were just—”
“—talking,” Bennie finished for him. “We noticed.”
Austin smiled, but it was the polite kind of smile you give right before you steal someone’s parking spot.
The Ohio guys exchanged a look.
They did not like this development.
“Well,” the blond one said stiffly, “we didn’t realize—”
“Now you do,” Austin said cheerfully.
Savannah was biting her lip like she was trying not to laugh.
I was considering faking my own death and moving to Canada.
The Ohio guys muttered something about nice meeting you and backed off, dignity bruised but intact.
And then—
Tamera appeared behind Bennie.
Like a jump scare in a horror movie.
Her eyes narrowed the second she saw me.
Oh.
This was about to get worse.
This was going to be a night.
- Writer
