Bikini party and bad decisions

~Mia~

The next day we decided we needed to “do something touristy” before Noah declared the whole trip a bust. His idea of touristy was renting two jet skis and a paddleboard nobody asked for, then hitting up a beach bar that looked like it had been built by pirates who gave up halfway through. The place had string lights tangled in palm trees, mismatched bar stools, and a bartender who called everyone “chief” whether they liked it or not.

We piled in around sunset. The air smelled like fried conch and spilled beer. Music thumped from speakers half-buried in the sand. Jax immediately challenged Noah to a game of beer pong against some locals who looked like they’d been playing since birth. Lena dragged them both to the table while she filmed everything for her stories. I hung back at the bar, nursing a piña colada that was more rum than anything else, trying to pretend I wasn’t hyper-aware of Ethan standing two feet away ordering a beer.

He slid onto the stool next to me without asking. His knee brushed mine under the bar. Accidental. Probably.

“You gonna sulk all night?” he asked, tipping the bottle toward me.

“I’m not sulking. I’m enjoying the ambiance.”

“Ambiance,” he repeated, deadpan. “Right. That’s why you’ve been glaring at the ocean like it owes you money.”

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe I just don’t like being crowded.”

He leaned in a fraction. “You’re not crowded. You’re avoiding me.”

“Big difference.”

He smirked. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Things were fine for about twenty minutes. We watched Jax lose spectacularly at pong, then win the rematch by distracting his opponent with a terrible dad joke. Lena was dancing barefoot in the sand with some random girl she’d just met. Noah was trying to convince the bartender to make him a “surprise shot” that sounded medically inadvisable.

Then Ethan opened his mouth again.

We were arguing about the paddleboard.

I’d tried it earlier, lasted maybe thirty seconds before I face-planted into the water. He had watched the whole thing from the beach, arms crossed, laughing so hard he almost dropped his phone.

Now he was bringing it up again.

“You looked like a drunk flamingo,” he said, grinning. “Legs everywhere. Arms windmilling. Classic.”

“Shut up. At least I tried.”

“Tried? You assaulted the board. It was self-defense when it threw you off.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t even attempt it.”

“Didn’t need to. I can stand on water without looking like I’m having a seizure.”

“Oh my God.” I set my drink down hard enough to slosh rum over the rim. “You’re so full of yourself. It’s a paddleboard, not a personality trait.”

He shrugged, unbothered. “I’m just saying, if you’re gonna talk shit about my balance, maybe don’t fall on your ass in front of God and everybody.”

“I didn’t fall on my ass. I fell forward. Gracefully.”

“Gracefully,” he echoed. “Sure. The ocean was clapping for you.”

That did it.

“Fuck you,” I snapped, middle finger shooting up between us like a flag of war.

Ethan’s eyes flicked to my hand, then back to my face. His grin turned slow. Dangerous.

“Yeah,” he said, voice dropping low enough that only I could hear it over the music. “We can totally do that.”

My brain short-circuited.

I blinked. Once. Twice.

“Ewwww,” I managed, shoving his shoulder hard enough to make him rock back on the stool. “Gross. You’re disgusting.”

He laughed, full and deep, head tipping back. “You started it.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Sure you didn’t.” He caught my wrist before I could pull away, thumb brushing the inside where my pulse was hammering. “Careful what you wish for, trouble.”

I yanked my hand free, cheeks burning, and stormed off toward the water to cool down. Literally and figuratively. Behind me, I heard him still laughing.

We didn’t speak again until the ride home. The group was buzzed and loud in the rented van, windows down, music blasting. I sat in the back row with Ethan because Jax had claimed shotgun and Lena was sprawled across Noah’s lap in the middle. Our thighs pressed together every time the van hit a bump. Neither of us moved.

By the time we got back to the house, the energy had shifted. Someone (probably Jax) yelled “bikini party!” like it was a command from God. Nobody argued. Within ten minutes the rooftop deck was transformed: speakers cranked, string lights on, cooler dragged up, bottles sweating in the humid night air.

I changed last.

Black bikini. Simple. High-cut bottoms, triangle top that tied behind my neck and back. Nothing crazy. But when I stepped out onto the deck, the breeze caught the sheer cover-up I’d thrown over it, and the thing floated open like it had a personal vendetta against modesty.

The music dipped for a second.

Jax whistled low. “Damn, Mia. Warn a guy.”

Lena squealed and pulled me into a hug. “You look hot as hell!”

Noah just gave me a brotherly once-over and nodded. “Don’t fall off the roof.”

I laughed, rolled my eyes, and dropped the cover-up onto a lounge chair.

Then I felt it.

Ethan.

He was leaning against the railing, beer in hand, talking to Jax about something. But his eyes weren’t on Jax anymore. They were on me. Slow drag from my bare feet up my legs, over the curve of my hips, lingering on the dip of my waist, the way the bikini top barely contained everything, then finally landing on my face.

He didn’t smile.

Didn’t smirk.

Just looked.

Like he was starving and I was the only thing on the menu.

My stomach flipped so hard I almost forgot how to breathe.

I turned away first, grabbed a drink from the cooler, pretended to be very interested in the playlist. But I could still feel his gaze like a physical touch sliding down my spine.

The night blurred after that. Dancing. Shots. Laughing until my sides hurt. Someone started a game of never-have-I-ever that got filthy fast. I kept catching Ethan watching me, though. Every time I looked up, his eyes were already there. Dark. Steady. Unreadable.

At one point Lena pulled me aside, giggling. “Ethan’s been staring at you like you’re the last slice of pizza.”

“Shut up,” I hissed, but my face was hot again.

“I’m just saying. Tension is thick tonight.”

“There’s no tension.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Girl, please.”

I didn’t argue.

Later, when the party started winding down and people drifted inside to crash, I stayed on the deck a minute longer. The ocean was black and endless below us, waves whispering against the shore. I leaned on the railing, letting the breeze cool my skin.

Footsteps behind me.

I didn’t turn.

Ethan stopped beside me. Close enough that his arm brushed mine.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He didn’t say anything else for a long minute. Just stood there. Breathing the same air. Looking at the same dark water.

Then, soft, almost under his breath:

“You look fucking incredible tonight.”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I turned my head just enough to meet his eyes.

He wasn’t smirking now. No teasing. Just raw want.

I swallowed hard.

“Goodnight, Ethan,” I whispered.

He exhaled through his nose, like the word physically hurt him.

“Night, Mia.”

I walked inside without looking back.

But I felt his stare follow me the whole way down the stairs.