was too blue to believe, and its constant, gentle roar soothed her, even as she tensed at the idea of relying on fantasizing about guys who could only ever be theoretical. She was trying to get away from that reality. Instead, she might very well be doomed to spend four days getting a crash course in exactly why it was such a bad idea, if Alan found a vacation hookup and she didn’t.
“It matters. He’s a different person if he’s with somebody. And what if you fantasize now, then have to watch him mack on some other girl every night at dinner? Or some guy, or whatever. That shit gets painful. Better to be forewarned. But hey, why should he only be theoretical to you? You’re adorable. If he’s single you should go for it.” After all, there had to be plenty of other likely prospects. It was a huge resort.
She knew this kind of encouragement went right past her five-foot-two pixie-haired friend, but kept saying it in the hopes it would stick one day. Instead, Amanda had seemed even more down on herself since breaking off her engagement the previous year. Julie never understood why Amanda couldn’t see any of her own appeal. Petite, delicate, girly and nothing like her gangly, awkward best friend.
Julie had grown into her tallish athletic figure and added some curves as an adult, but she still felt like that same dorky kid inside. Her hair was thick, brown, curly and unruly, and she had decided at a certain point in high school that she refused to consider it the bane of her existence. That would be letting the hair win, and she couldn’t let that happen. But now she rarely considered it at all, just shoving it into a ponytail or bun and forgetting about it for the rest of the day. No amount of product or appliance could turn it into soft, springy waves as seen on TV, not that she’d really devoted much effort to trying. Her attention was on work, and on completing the ambitious ten-year plan she’d begun back in college. Her only fashion obsession was big earrings, of which she owned far too many.
Amanda, on the other hand, got her hair cut once a month, and always seemed to know which products to use to bend it to her will. She professed to actually enjoy shopping for clothes, and she didn’t still own the same makeup that she’d used in college just because it hadn’t run out yet.
Julie often wondered if they would have ever become best friends if it weren’t for the alphabet. Growing up, they sat together so often in school—Julie Perfetto, Amanda Perry—that it was like the universe was pushing them together. Neither girl had ever regretted it, but they were definitely an odd couple.
Amanda peered after the guy, shaking her head. “I’m a stocky elf. You’re gorgeous, and you’ve seen all the James Bond movies. You’re like Adventure Girl. You should go after him yourself.”
“Are you bailing out on the frisky vacation-hookup high jinks?” They’d planned to be each other’s moral support in this wild scheme.
“No, I’m still one hundred percent on board with that. I need to get laid like whoa,” Amanda clarified. “I’m going insane.”
“It hasn’t been that long.”
She shot her friend a look. “It has been ten months, ten days, and I lost track of the hours at daylight savings time, but it’s a lot of hours. It has been a long time. I have run through way too many batteries. Jeremy may have been an asshole, but he’s a tough act to follow.”
Julie flashed back to Amanda’s ex-fiancé. The perfect man, really...except for the part where he’d apparently expected Amanda to give up her own very solid career in San Jose to move with him to Seattle for his start-up. Their breakup had been unexpected, abrupt, and more than a little acrimonious.
Resorting to battery toys alone for that long seemed a little silly, though. With dismay, she realized her own dry spell was actually longer than Amanda’s. Over a year. She hadn’t even dated anybody since The Incident at the Christmas party.
“Definitely time for some vacation naughtiness, then,” she said, when she became aware that Amanda was still waiting for a response.
“I agree. And while the idea of a stranger still freaks me out a little, I’ve come up with a plan. Probably a really bad one, if history tells me anything, but at least it’s something.”
Julie only knew one guy her friend could have already made a plan about that involved history. She started to flat out ask if Amanda was talking about Alan, but something stopped her. Possibly the cold knot of something icky that had begun to form in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t put a name to the ick, which bothered her. It was more a general feeling of wait, now...wait. No. Which was stupid. She had no claim on Alan, and objectively speaking he was a great guy. Why wouldn’t she want Amanda to investigate further? Hell, she’d already tried to fix them up once before. Three years ago. When she hardly knew Alan.
“I have more immediate concerns. They’re about getting my bikini on and finding a fancy umbrella drink before dinner. You in?”
“Julie, honey, I’ve never been so in.”
Chapter Three
For Julie, the whole point of the vacation was to get away from home. She wanted exotic. Debonair strangers, dangerous beach joggers. Instead, she got Alan, not even shirtless, appearing on the lanai right as she and Amanda were heading out. He had exchanged his shorts for swim trunks, but otherwise wore what he had on the flight. And what he usually wore to work, for that matter. An XKCD T-shirt that only geeks would understand, and sports sandals. He’d been ready to go since they left San Jose.
“Oh my God?” he led off.
“Oh my God,” Julie confirmed. “Oh my fucking God, this place!”
“Are we going for drinks?”
She nodded. “Of course we are.”
“You’re, um...” His eyes shifted, flicking down for a second at her bikini-clad form. If she’d blinked, she would have missed it. “You’re going like that?”
That bad? “Yeah, that was the plan. Drinks, maybe a swim, then dinner. Look, Amanda’s in a bikini, too.”
The look he gave Amanda was more open and, if Julie didn’t mistake his expression, more appreciative. Why that struck her with a sudden pang, she wasn’t sure. She knew she shouldn’t care. She spent a great deal of time reminding herself she didn’t think of Alan that way, after all. If Amanda was ready to try Alan on for size again, Julie should be happy to see that the interest was reciprocated. Because they were her friends.
“So she is. I feel overdressed.”
“We’ll put pareos on,” Amanda volunteered. “I feel too exposed to relax and enjoy a drink like this. My butt’s hanging out.”
Her butt was too tiny to hang anywhere—if Amanda was stocky, Julie thought, she was the Easter Bunny—but she wasn’t going to argue if Alan’s dismissive glance at her own bikini body was any indication of the reception she’d receive out in the world.
Amanda had to show her how to tie the pareo around her hips, while Alan tapped his foot and sighed extravagantly. “You’re wearing next to nothing and it still takes you forever to get ready.”
“I’ll remind you that I am typically ready before you.” It was true, because unlike Julie, Alan did wear hair care products, and sometimes he even ironed his clothes.
“An aspect of our friendship that I genuinely appreciate.”
“There. You’re a beach goddess now.” Amanda stood back to admire her handiwork, and Julie had to admit she liked the way the soft fabric of the pareo clung to her hips and created the impression of a smaller waist.
Then she caught it—the peek. Amanda’s momentary sideways gaze at Alan, right before she blushed. Julie’s stomach lurched again.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck! Why should that be full of fuck, though? She wasn’t supposed to care about Alan that way. Was. Not. Supposed. To.
“So, Alan,” Amanda ventured, while Julie tried to quell her growing distress, “I think you’re still