That Summer Feeling: SUMMER 4EVER [H.S.]

21. Stayin Alive

ACT I

I eyeball the cherry lime margarita as it pours over fresh ice cubes, not stopping until it reaches the top of the container. I close the silver disco ball cup with the lid it came with and take a long drag of the metal straw, needing the refreshment down my throat to both cool me down and accompany on what's about to be a long night.

"There you are, Darling." I face Harry's cheeky grin when he enters the kitchen. "You ready?"

"That's not my name." My eyes fight to stay on his face and not the flawless upturn of his lips. The red of his sweater almost matches the color of them perfectly.

"Isn't it?" He moves forward and sets his disco ball cup down beside me.

"It's Darlene." My teeth clench tight watching his hands as they unscrew the lid and pour ice and the cocktail I used into it.

"I said that."

I sigh, "Harry—"

"Who's Harry?" His brow quirks up.

I sigh again while he brings the straw up to the same cheeky smile. "Jack—"

"Yes?"

I sigh again and grip the sweaty drink in my hand, my feet take a step past him. "Forget it."

"Wait," he quickly calls out, turning around to face me before I can leave. "Not so fast. We need to talk strategy."

"Fine," I exhale softly, my other hand bringing my paper up. "What does yours say?"

"Not here." His eyes widen at me, quickly moving my paper towards me. He leans closer to keep his voice hushed so only I could hear. "Someone's going to listen and try to pin it on us. We'd be giving them ammo. Let's go find a spot, Mrs Sugarheart."

He lifts his palm, offering his hand to me. I only look at it then back into his eyes with an arch to my eyebrows.

"Darling, are you trying to make us lose?"

"It's Darlene," I correct him even though I was unsure if I heard the right name from his mouth. The two words do sound annoyingly similar with his thick accent.

"I said that. Now c'mon, we've got homework to do." His eyes shift to my hand gripping the disco ball cup. "Where's your wedding ring?"

"Oh, right," I mumble and ignore the huge jump my heart did as I walk back to the counter where I left the silver band. The giant fake diamond sparkled as I picked it up and slid it over my ring finger on my left hand. It barely fits, the plastic squeezes my bone.

"After you, Darlene." He extends his arm towards the living room with the same smile he had when he first walked in. My eyes are immediately drawn to the gold ring prop on his left hand. The sight brings butterflies to my stomach.

It's just a game, I have to repeat to myself for the tenth time tonight. It's merely a game yet it's still so fucking trippy.

I find a free spot on a corner of the couch. Everyone else had picked their secluded area to review the character sheets Beau handed out for the murder mystery game he brought.

For the first segment of the game, we were supposed to study the people we're playing and wear any props included then mingle with one another while we serve ourselves the food Beau ordered for his birthday dinner. Technically the day-before-his-birthday dinner.

I wipe a hand over my thigh, dragging the condensation from my cup on my denim jumpsuit once I take a seat. The attire Beau requested this evening was "'70s Cunt." This was the most on-theme I could find in my wardrobe paired with a seafoam green glittery shadow across my eyes, though I don't think I'm doing the theme much justice. Not as much as Beau's full floral suit and black platforms.