Page 33 of Sundown Somewhere

“But it’s sundown, somewhere…” she says, her voice wistful. She twists in my arms, looking out over the beach, the setting sun reflecting off the water as if timed perfectly with her comment.

“It is…”

My words hang in the air, the song winding down behind us, the other couples on the floor slowing their movements in time with the music. I know I should do the same, but there’s a feeling inside me urging me to hold my best friend tighter. To tuck the stray piece of hair blowing in the breeze behind her ear and never let go. But I can’t do that.

Because beyond the promise to always be her best friend and to be by her side, no matter what, is another truth. A bigger one.

I’m not good enough for Dolly McLain. Never have been. Never will be.

Before either one of us can say or do anything though, the band kicks into “Sweet Caroline.” Whatever spell we were under is broken, the catchy tune taking over, both of us singing along at the top of our lungs.

We sing and dance, losing track of time, allowing the night to take us where it goes. A couple more rounds of drinks—beer for me, a mix of shots and margs for Dolly—and we’re both feeling pretty good. The memory of why we’re here seems long forgotten, leaving us to be exactly what we are. A pair of best friends out to have a good time.

“Never let go of me, Hux,” Dolly says into my ear, wiggling against me.

My pulse jerks, skipping a beat, and I don’t know if it’s from her request or the fact that she’s borderline dirty dancing with me and has been all night. The feel of her body pressed against mine is one thing, but when she moves, it takes everything to remind my body we’re not thirteen anymore.

Then again, tell that to the semi I’m currently sporting thanks to the swaying of her hips against mine.

“Never,” I tell her, wishing that it was physically possible.

“Okay.” She stops, placing her hands on my shoulders, staring me in the eye. Her eyes are glassy and borderline serious. As serious as one can be in this state. “Drunk confession time.”

“It was you who swapped out Whitney’s sunblock for mayo before she went on spring break,” I joke, knowing that she had nothing to do with that prank on her younger sister.

“No!” She shakes her head, giggling. “I⁠—”

She’s cut off by the opening notes to “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun,” and I know that whatever was so important a second ago no longer matters. More importantly, that is also my cue to leave.

Dolly shrieks, letting go of me, throwing her arms up and starting to dance. I laugh, backing away—along with every other guy out here—letting her sing along and dance with the other ladies currently losing their mind to the classic.

Wandering back over to our spot, I catch our waitress, ordering another round of drinks—this time a water for me and another margarita for Dolly—and plant myself in the chair, giving myself a good view of her out on the dance floor letting loose. She looks happy, relaxed, and like herself.

The song ends and she bounds back over long enough to grab her drink and take it back out to the floor with her, continuing to dance with another pair of women who look to be about our age. Part of me thinks I should go back out there and join her. Go cut loose or whatever. But then I think better of it. Because sitting here, I have the most perfect view of a curvy blonde with a dangerous set of hips and breasts that steal the show, filling out a lilac sundress like she’s being paid to do so.

Eat your heart out, Jeff. You don’t know what you’re missing…

“Hux!”

“Dolly,” I greet her in return, smiling like I won the lottery as she sashays toward me.

I expect her to sit back down in the chair she was in earlier, exhausted from all her dancing, but she doesn’t. She walks right past it, over to me.

Climbing into my lap, she lifts one leg over, straddling me. The move is so quick, even as clumsy as it is in her drunken state, it takes a minute for it to register. Shifting, she drags her center along the front of my shorts, my dick reacting instantly.

Holy fuck…

So much for that semi. I’m fully hard in the blink of an eye. And I have no fucking right to be. This is Dolly. My best friend. No. Just no.

“Hux…” she whispers, wrapping her arms around my neck, pressing her forehead to mine.

“Doll…” I groan. I mean for it to be a warning, but it doesn’t come out that way.

Because this can’t happen. I can’t kiss my best friend. Not in this state. Not ever.

But especially not drunk. Not right after she’s been left at the altar.

“Whatcha doin’, Doll?” I ask, trying to control the situation. I grab ahold of her hips, telling myself that it’s so I can keep her steady, stop her from grinding anymore in my lap and finding out exactly what my body is doing in response to her being in this position.