Page 9 of American Sweethearts

“There’s really some hashtag ‘living my best life’ shit happening right now.” His voice startled me again, this time, at least, I managed not to scream. “I’m too overwhelmed to even post to my Instagram account,” he said, making me laugh. I nodded in silent agreement, as I took a long sip from the delicious Chilean Sauvignon Blanc they literally had on tap.

“Leave it to Camilo to find a man that hot andthatfucking loaded and then make him so crazy he has to beg him to spend money on him,” Juan Pablo joked, referring to Camilo’s refusal to take money from his fiancé at the beginning of their relationship. Thankfully our prickly friend was now embracing the flex, which meant we were getting treated to a pretty fancy vacay.

“I’m not going to say I’m mad at Camilo seeing the light,” I muttered around a mouthful of grilled octopus.

“Ey, nobody’s complaining, least of all me?—”

Juan Pablo suddenly stopped talking then cleared his throat and stared somewhere around my mouth.

“What?” I asked, running a hand over my cheek.

“You got a little bit of the sauce on your chin, here,” he said, leaning in to rub his thumb over the spot.

Fuck, he smelled so damn good.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying mad hard not to do something crazy like lick him, but it was a very close call. He kept his thumb on my face for just a moment longer than necessary and we both held our breath, caught up in touching again. Everything felt like this with J, like I was always on the edge of aprecipice. Constantly on the verge of falling. I had to make sure I never forgot it was a bad idea to take the plunge.

But like back at the cave, just when I was about to let myself take what I knew we both wanted, Juan Pablo pulled back. With his eyes hidden under mirrored glasses I couldn’t exactly see what was happening, but the flush on his chest and neck told me that he was just as heated as me.

He stood up, pointing at my half-full wineglass, his empty bottle in one hand. “I’m gonna go to the bar for another. You need anything?”

I shook my head as I attempted to compose myself, “Nah, I’m good.”

He angled his head in the direction of the beach bar where some of our family was still eating as I tried to discreetly watch him walk away. That wide back tapering down to a narrow waist and God, that ass, which had always been my weakness.

“Nice to see that even though we’re living theMTV Cribslife these days, some things never change. Pris, your thirst is showing, mama.”

I glanced up to see Camilo and Easton both grinning at me, but before I could tell either of them to fuck off, I got flanked on both sides and got matching looks, which all but guaranteed I was about to get a session of twenty questions. “Don’t you two have men you need to be paying attention to?”

Camilo flicked his hand in the direction of his silver fox who seemed to be in a very engrossing conversation with Patrice. “They’re talking about the elections. They’ll be at it for a while, and I’ll have plenty of time to get all the QT I need with my man soon.” He gloated, as he raised his left hand to admire his very understated engagement ring. Tom had managed to get a rock on that ring, but I’m sure he restrained himself for Camilo’s sake. “From here, we’re going to some bougie place in Greece fortwo weeks of what I hope will be nothing but fucking, eating, and day drinking, not necessarily in that order.”

I smiled at how happy he was. It seemed that while I wasn’t looking, all my friends had become…fulfilled. The Priscilla who had been through more than a few breakups with them and knew how fucking amazing they were was happy—no, elated—for them, because they deserved it. The other Pris, the one who was starting to feel like every part of the life she’d worked so fucking hard to build was suffocating her—she felt just a little bit jealous. Not because I wanted exactly what they had, but because I felt unsatisfied and I had no clue how to fix it.

Actually that was a lie. I knew what could fix it, I was just too scared to try. But instead of going down that anxiety-inducing rabbit hole, I focused on my reason for being here and pulled on Milo’s hand so I could kiss his cheek, “You’re a smug little bastard, but I’m happy for you.”

He made a “move over” gesture with his free hand, and I obliged as he directed his knowing gray eyes in my direction. “Thanks, but don’t change the subject. What’s up with you and J? I’ve been catching some serious powder-keg vibes from the two of you.”

Easton nodded in agreement as we all looked at the man in question making his way back to us. He stopped about halfway when his dad called after him. Turning around only gave me another look at that ass.

Easton made an appreciative sound, which I knew was more to make me laugh than anything else. “I got more than I can handle with the professor burning the sheets off my bed on a regular basis, but friend, I gotta tell you, at another time, I’d have happily taken a bite out of that.”

Camilo cackled as he stole a sip of wine from my glass.

I laughed, too, keeping an eye on J. “He probably would’ve let you, too. And please stop, I don’t need this kind of dangerousenabling when I’m in an all-I-can-drink type of situation, Easton Archer.”

Camilo cut his eyes at me and spoke in a low voice. “Like you’ve ever needed substances to fall on that dick or vice versa. The two of you have always been that thirsty for each other and it looks like time has not taken off the edge.”

There was no use denying what we all knew was true. “We work better as friends.”

“If you say so” came across loud and clear on Camilo’s face, but thankfully J’s return put a stop to the conversation.

Before he even had a chance to say something, Jude came over waving a finger in the direction of Juan Pablo and Camilo, then turned to do the same at Nesto, and Patrice who were sitting just a few feet away still talking to Tom. He smiled widely as he looked at the foursome.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the full set.”

I didn’t even have to ask—he was referring to seeing the matching tattoos the four of them had gotten while we were all in college. Each of the guys had a beating heart tattooed over where their real ones would be. Each one covered in flags. Juanpa’s had the Puerto Rican and the American flag on his; he’d had the last name of his Italian mother done in a heavy cursive font on the other side of his chest. I’d gone with him to get both pieces. Back then we were inseparable and still talking about the future.

I shut down that line of thinking immediately, nothing good was going to come from me reminiscing on shit that was done with a million years ago. Instead I looked up at the guys who were now lined up showing off their tats. Juanpa’s chest was like chiseled marble. Since he’d started the job with the Yankees, he’d been taking better care of himself. His body, which had always been lean, was now hard and strong.