“A pact?”
He nodded. “If neither of us are married by the time we’re thirty, we marry each other.”
“Oh my God,” I scoffed, leaning up to mirror his new posture. “That is so stupid, Jamie. It’s also the plot line for every cheesy Rom Com ever.”
He shrugged, wiping the sand from his hands and gazing back out at the water. “Sounds like someone is scared.”
“I’m not scared. It’s dumb.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I’m going to be married by thirty, Jamie. And you’re definitely going to be locked down by then.”
“So then you have nothing to worry about.” He challenged me for the second time that night, eyes sparking to life as they met mine. He extended his hand. “If we’re not married in twelve years, you become Mrs. Shaw.”
I swallowed hard at his words. Mrs Shaw. “That’s not fair. You turn thirty before me.”
Jamie shrugged again. “My pact, my terms. Do we have a deal?” He thrust his hand out farther, and I stared at it, brows bent as I chewed my cheek. Finally, I rolled my eyes and gripped his hand with my own, shaking it three times. “Fine. But this is dumb, and pointless.”
Jamie just grinned.
“You’re so weird,” I said, getting in the last word on my feelings about the stupid pact.
“Yeah, but you love me anyway.” He winked, stealing the Vitamin Water from the space between us and draining the last of it before leaning back on his hands again.
I didn’t think too long about the fact that he’d said I loved him, or the possibility that he might be right. I didn’t think about the pact or what would happen in twelve years, because Jamie was leaving, and I was staying.
Mom grounded me for the first month of that summer and I had to pay to replace the carpets, but I didn’t even care. It was worth it to have that first shot of Whiskey, to eat breakfast burritos on the beach and make stupid promises we wouldn’t keep.
That was supposed to be the last night I saw Jamie Shaw.
I let him go, just like I was supposed to, and I did my best to never think about him again. Not that summer when I saw him around town, not that fall when he left for California and I stayed behind, not even when I applied to Alder University knowing it was in the same city as the University of California San Diego. I avoided looking at his social media, too. Eventually, as senior year kicked into gear and my focus became my own graduation, I really did start to let him go.
But as fate would have it, that wasn’t my last night with Jamie Shaw.
Not even close.
Chapter 4
Barrel Aged
The thing about whiskey is that the longer it sits in the barrel, the more it changes — and it never stops. Whiskey aged for two years is different from whiskey aged for ten, and no matter what year you decide to throw the towel in and pour up a glass, you can’t go wrong. Whiskey at a ripe age, young and full of character, is buzz-worthy. But whiskey aged, even just a little bit? Pure bliss.
And don’t let the fact that some of the alcohol evaporates over time fool you, because when you taste that aged whiskey, it’ll burn just as deliciously as it did when it was young.
I was strolling the rows of tables lining the student union walkway at Alder University in San Diego, taking fliers from a few of them, passing by others, when the barrel cracked open.
“Hi!” the blonde seated behind the Campus Housing table said excitedly. “Are you picking up your housing information?”
I did my best impression of Ryan Atwood from The OC, channeling the lip tuck and eyebrow raise of indifference. I was in California, after all. “Indeed I am.”
“Great!” she answered too quickly, clapping her hands together. “Last name?”
“Kennedy.”
She went to work searching through the various envelopes lined up on her table and I bounced on my heels, enjoying the warmth of the sun mixed with the cool breeze. It was the last week of August, a normally hellish time in South Florida, but the weather was still mild in San Diego. Sun bright, a few white clouds floating by, breeze rolling in off the coast. It couldn’t be more than eighty degrees and I smiled at the feel of the light air, the humidity so much less stifling than that of Florida. I was officially in my new home for the next four years, and I knew immediately that I’d made the right choice choosing Alder.
Alder University was a small, private campus, but a prestigious one. Tucked between the heart of San Diego and Imperial Beach and stocked with a plethora of options for undecided undergrads, it was the perfect college for me. I smiled again, hiking the same Jansport I’d used all through high school up higher on my back just as the perky blonde snapped her fingers.
“Ah! Found it!” She plucked the folder out, checking its contents before looking back up to me. “Brecks, right?”
My smile immediately fell with her question, along with my mood. I somehow forced a tight smile, but before I could even nod, another voice boomed my answer from behind me.
“It’s B,” he said. His voice was smooth, oak infused and deeper than I remembered. I turned, words stuck in my throat, eyes wide as I drank him in. Every single inch of him, from his worn sneakers and basketball shorts to the soaked Alder t-shirt he wore, sticking to the defined ridges of his abdomen. My eyes trailed up over the faint stubble on his neck and jaw before they found honey whiskey pools. He slid up beside me then, crooked smile in place as he held my stare. “Just B.”
Time stopped in that moment, and I couldn’t keep my eyes from tracing his features — his new, shorter hair, his biceps that had filled out considerably since the last time I’d seen them propping him up on the beach in Florida, the few inches he’d grown. His aura was different, cockier, more sure. I wish I could tell you I’d been smoother than the first time I’d met him on that running trail, but the truth was I couldn’t have been more obvious in my eye-assault, and he noticed, because when my eyes found his face again, he just cocked one brow and widened his grin.
“You cut your hair,” I finally breathed, my body rejoining the world in a whoosh. It was like all the sounds of students and the birds in the California trees found me all at once, attacking my senses along with the brightness of the sun through my cheap sunglasses.
Jamie chuckled, lifting his hand to just barely touch my face. “And you got a nose ring.”
I smiled, still staring at him, still not listening to the blonde behind the table who was trying to give me important information about my new dorm room. Luckily, Jamie was listening, and he reached over to take the envelope and keys from her. He winked, at her, not at me, and that’s when I finally looked at her again.
“Good to see you, Jamie. How have you been?” she asked, too eagerly, and I eyed her up and down slowly. Big blonde hair, 80’s-style curls, with bright blue eyes and skin tan enough to make me think it might be fake. She wasn’t as pretty as Jenna, but she had similar features, which made me turn to Jamie to study his reaction with her.
“Oh you know, same old same. I think I got this,” he said, holding up the envelope in his hands. “Take care, Melanie.”
Melanie all but swooned as we walked away from the table, and I fought hard not to roll my eyes. “I take it you two know each other?” I asked, nodding back to where she was still staring at him.