Looking to Lose (completed)

*23*

I hate my lock screen. The recent picture of Mila and I, her tan body flush against my pale one, clinging to each other as a wave pounds against us, water spraying up behind our grinning faces, the small droplets catching the afternoon sunshine, is one of my favorite pictures. But the fact that I can see the full photo in its entirety, unblocked by any notifications, is driving me out of my mind.

Why hasn't he responded? I texted him that photo eight hours ago. Radio silence.

Why do I care so much? Didn't I just determine that staying friends is by far the smartest option? When is the last time I freaked out about a friend taking a while to text me back?

Involuntarily, my hand twitches back to my phone, tapping the home button only to light up a notification-less screen for the tenth time in the past five minutes.

"Are you expecting a phone call or something?" Raph questions next to me. We're sitting on one of the sprawling white couches in Mila's living room, waiting for her and Elian to return with our drinks.

Another night, another party, though this time we've upgraded from the beach to a boat. A wealthy pair of twins Mila has known ever since her parents bought a home here own a vacation yacht docked in the next bay over and are throwing a huge party. Seeing as though I'm oblivious to yacht dress codes, Mila served as my stylist for the evening, curling my hair in long waves and pinning up the strands around my face. She decked me out in an iridescent ocean blue taffeta mini dress, saying it matches my eyes, but I drew the line at the stilettos she handed to me. With my balance issues, there is no way I will survive walking on a rocking ship on what is essentially two chopsticks. Instead, some strappy sandals are kindly comforting my feet at the moment.

Raph is leaned back casually on the couch, looking perfectly at home in the fancy room, dressed in deep blue slacks and a white button-down tee – formal but still him. He put gel in the curls on the top of his head, making each ringlet more defined. Long story short, he put my boy sense on high alert the minute he walked into the house.

Then why are you still waiting for Aaron to text you back? my brain nags.

Really brain, now you decide to pop up?

"No, it's not important," I respond just as Mila and Elian walk into the room with a tray of alcohol. Mila hands me a sweet-smelling piña colada and I slurp half of it down in one gulp.

"Woa tiger, tonight's a marathon not a sprint," Raph reprimands, but he's grinning as he takes two shots in succession off of the tray.

We all clink our drinks together and finish them off. I can already feel a rosy glow spreading through me, and the way Raph is looking at me doesn't help.

"Are we ready to get this party started?" Mila says, stringing out the last word like a Spanish MC yelling GOOOAAAAALLLLL!

In response, Elian hoists her up over his shoulder, flashing us with her lacy underwear to which Raph pretends to gag. Laughing, I slap her butt and follow them out the door.

Pausing over the threshold, I take one more glance at my phone, hope swelling in my chest before being crushed again at the empty screen.

"You coming sunshine?" Raph asks, glancing over his should and extending his hand to me for the second time today.

"Hell yeah," I say, shutting my phone off and dropping it in my purse before grabbing his hand and running after Elian and Mila.

The party is in full swing when we arrive. Stretched at an impressive fifty feet, and every inch strung with small paper lanterns, the yacht is filled with what seems like a hundred people.