A/N: Please don't behave this way in real life, thank you. 

The flight was chaotic, but it helps that Valencia is sunny and amazing. We arrived in the morning, but it was the middle of the night for us. We should have slept on the jet, but instead, the group decided we would stay up all night at the hotel bar, have a little siesta, and get our proper sleep on the boat. Not a great idea, but no one listens to me when I'm outnumbered twenty to one.

Everyone is suppressing their jet lag with wine, leaving the bridesmaids subjected to a temporarily single Ritchie and seemingly irresistible Heath. Two of them have been trying to paw at him since the jet.

Part of me wishes he would just sleep with one of them to remind me of how big of a douche he can be, but all he has done is be nice to me. I know why, but it's difficult to get out of your feelings when the person who put you in your feelings is being very feelable.

Luckily, I've been busy. With day one out of the way, we're in the final push. Only two days until the wedding, and I'm about to be without cell service.

I bump into Brett, nearly knocking my phone out of my hands. "There she is," he says with a beaming smile. I look up and see a yacht the size of a house. The sun glares off the white sides. "Isn't she beautiful?" he says dreamily. Yikes.

Felicity hugs his arm tighter with a smile as big as his. She loves a shiny new toy just as much as he does. They kiss and I suppress a gag.

"That thing is fucking huge, Brett," I say with a lack of enthusiasm. "A sentence you've never heard before."

He bats at me. I laugh when Felicity's expression doesn't disagree. Back to my distraction.

I tag along, going through the motions of climbing on and handing over my bags while I put together the last of the day-of schedule. I lean against the railing beneath the shade and sigh. With the hairdresser showing up later and now needing to style the mother-in-law, I have to shift the start time and photo window for the guys to avoid—

"Teags."

I look up and see Heath staring at me. He looks in his element. Bronze skin popping, dark hair in perfect sea salt waves, his tattoo peeking out from beneath his short sleeve. You can take the boy off the island, but . . . "Hi. What?"

"I grabbed you this." He holds out a little paper takeaway box. "It's an egg souffle. Balanced macros. Perfect fuel for whatever marathon your thumbs are running right now," he adds with a smirk.

He hands it to me without further explanation and I realize I forgot to have breakfast. It's comforting the way he doesn't ask me whether I've eaten, or grill me with other questions. He separates it from my stress and anxiety and makes it easy.

He's doing that nice boy thing again and I wish he would stop. "Thank you. I won't have cell service in a hot five, so I'll be better, I swear."

"The wedding is still going to happen whether things are in fifteen-minute increments or not," he teases me. "You're on a yacht in the Mediterranean. Can you let yourself enjoy it a little?"

I'd enjoy taking his clothes off and licking him right now, but that's illegal. "I'm trying to."

His gray eyes give me a once-over before I return to my phone.

He's right though. My schedule is clean enough to review with Mary, which she won't be able to do until she's sober. The only thing left on my list is to check in with Mama. That's our new deal. No pills, no purges. We can lie to ourselves but not to each other, so we check in once a week at least.

I look over. Heath leans back against the railing. "You're hovering," I tell him.

"We're on a boat. Where else am I supposed to go?"

"It's the size of a mansion. I'm sure you can find somewhere."

He laughs. "Stop working and come chill."

"I'm not working. I'm texting your mom."

He stares at me, the proudest little smirk teasing at the corner of his lips before he looks away. "Have I said thank you today?"

"Just once. Twice if you count just now."

"How was it? Your therapy session." He looks hesitant. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"You know we've been four times, right?"

"No, I didn't."

I look back at my phone with a deep breath. "It's good so far. Hard but good. I think having someone to do it with helps. Like a gym buddy, but for crying."

He chuckles. I smile at the sound until his hand grazes my arm. The light touch makes my skin prickle. "Can I talk to you about something?"

The worry in his eyes gives me concern. "Yeah. What's up?"

He looks hesitant before Ritchie flies into view like a capuchin, nearly tackling Heath to the floor by his neck. Heath doesn't look amused, but Ritchie is too drunk to notice. He pulls him away by the arm, Heath rolling his eyes.

I sit down and open the little box, finding the little treat, a tiny fork, and two strawberries tucked in the corner. A lump builds in my throat, but I push it away. I set it on my lap, and as we push off from the dock, I type the last words of my text message. Love you too.

. . .

Stopped somewhere out in the water, we enjoy the sunset with paella and even more drinks. All I want to do is sleep, but I don't want to throw off my sleep schedule even more.

I feel like I blink and ten minutes pass. The guys and wives are scattered around, probably causing havoc. I can't help them this time because I'm stuck with the pretty strangers. Five women—most of them bridesmaids—sit at the table with me.

Mary's friends are okay. They are her sorority sisters or her cousins and have a homogeneity that feels intimidating. While Zara pours our glasses of rosé, I pretend to keep up with the conversation, hoping Mary will ease me in soon.

While taking a sip, she catches my gaze and her eyes widen. "Oh my god. I forgot to introduce some of you! This is Teagan. Ryan's best friend and our Best Ma'am."

The table of dark-haired, tawny-skinned beauties greets me with the same smile and the same wave. I'm scared. "Hi," I say to them.

"Teagan is used to hanging out with Ryan and their tipos locos, so be gentle with her. She's not used to civility." I love her.

Zara looks at me. "You're always with them?" she asks.

"Pretty much, yeah. If I'm not with them, I'm with my family."

"You don't have other friends?"

"Uh . . ." I hesitate before another speaks up.

"One of your friends—the really attractive one. What is his name? Henry?" She is one of his two admirers.

I sigh. "Heath."

"Yes! He's muy guapo. What is his situation?" she asks.

Me. "He's seeing someone."

"Oh. Is it serious?"

I let out an awkward chuckle. "Couldn't tell you."

"Green light!" the other encourages her.

My heart drops when she stands to approach him. I force myself to look away, which is so stupid. No matter how intertwined we are, it changes nothing. He's with Shelley, and that's a good thing. I don't miss him, I just miss the sex.

"I can tell her to back off," Mary whispers to me.

"What?"

"If you don't want her flirting with Heath."

I blink, wondering how much she knows. I open my mouth to speak, but someone else voice comes out instead. "Tea-gan!" Brett bellows, adding extra emphasis to the last syllable. He's drunk as hell. "It's OG friend time in the hot tub!"

"Huh?"

"Come on," he grumbles, as if I have any idea what he is talking about. He stumbles over and pulls out my chair.

"Brett, what—" He scoops me into his arms, grunting when he lifts me. Flattering. "Welp," I grab my glass on the way up, knowing I will need it to get through whatever mess he's about to pull me into. The girls giggle to themselves as Brett carries me away.

He walks me over—somehow maintaining his footing—and over to the hot tub embedded in the deck nearest the indoor bar. Ryan and Ritchie are in it already, the water glowing with lights that fade from blue to green to purple. Brett walks into it, flopping as he lets me go. I manage to keep my glass above the water.

"Guys, come on! We have shots!" he calls to the rest.

I set my glass on the side and remove my drenched swim cover, then secure my braids into a plop on the top of my head. I didn't spend eight hours in a chair just to soak them in unshowered ass and ball juice.

Jeremy climbs in next to me. He gives me a brief look, then pulls me to his side. I hug him and nuzzle against his hairy chest, a quiet I forgive you for the next two days.

Ritchie lifts the tray of twelve shot glasses into the middle. Oof. I take one and sniff it, smelling the floral scent of expensive vodka. This is going to go downhill quickly.

Brett raises his glass. "To Ryan on his special weekend! Welcome to the married club, friend!"

We clink then drink. The clear liquid slides down like water but makes my next breath come out like fire. As I fight for less flammable air, I succumb to the peer pressure and take the next glass.

"And to Jer! The next douche in line to join the married club!"

Clink. Drink. It wants to come back up, but I don't let it. We sit down, and I attempt to chase the taste away with my rosé.

"Where's Chet?" Brett asks. "Chet!"

"You said this was OGs only," Jeremy says.

"Eh, he's a dude, too. He can join us guys."

I wave to Brett. "Um, hi?"

Chet comes over and slips into the tub as well. "Hey, guys," he says in his sweet tone. He settles next to Jeremy and they kiss. No one can be upset when Chet is the special exception. That's like getting pissed off that a puppy showed up in a playpen of kittens.

The conversation devolves into wedding and engagement stories. With a yawn, I settle back, letting a jet massage my lower back, and stare up at the sky. The last bit of orange slips away, dragging darkness in behind it. The waning crescent adds little moonlight to the equation, but it's gorgeous. It would be frightening to be floating in the middle of an open body of water if I wasn't in a glowing hot tub with the warmth of liquor settling in.

Ryan leaves my side to go after Ritchie, splashing water over the edge. They laugh about something, but I have been out of the conversation for too long. I turn my head and find Heath moving out of the way of the aggressive bromance.

He settles beside me. "Feeling good?" he asks.

The warmth is becoming fuzzy. "Yeah. What about you?"

He shrugs, then settles deeper into the water. His fingertips trace the top of my thigh. The little bit of touch he gives me teases in my core. I would think he was flirting, but he looks at me too hard, like he has bad news hidden away.

"What did you want to talk about earlier?" I ask him.

He stares for a moment and then shakes his head. His hand tightens on my thigh. "We can talk about it later."

A staff member comes by and offers to fill my glass. I shouldn't let him, but I do. "Thank you," I say, then take a sip of the ice cold wine. I offer it to Heath. He takes it, snarling after a taste. Laughing, I pull it away from him, meaning to tease him when Jeremy huffs beside me.

When I look at him, he looks pissed. Chet's arm is around his shoulder the way he does when he tries to keep him calm.

"You're getting married in Philadelphia? The fuck is up with that?" Brett's drunk ass teases, but I know Jeremy is going to pop off before he says a thing. "You barely hang out and now you're moving away. You don't like us anymore or something?" He laughs.

"You all are oblivious to everything, aren't you?" Jeremy asks Brett. Chet sighs.

"What?"

"Why are we friends, Brett? You're an awful person, you say shit all the time, not caring how it affects us, then you turn around and say we're besties. We've been friends for a long time. That doesn't mean we need to continue." Jeremy didn't come to play.

"Honey . . ."

Brett looks shocked. "What? When have I ever said something to hurt you?"

"Brett, you say homophobic and racist shit all the time. 'No homo-ing' with Ritchie, talking about Teagan like she's not even a person." Not sure why I was volunteered for this position, but here we are.

Brett rolls his eyes. "Teags knows I love her."

"I know you think you do," I say.

He gives me that face. "Oh, come on. We have different politics, but that doesn't change anything."

"It's not 'just politics' when it affects someone's humanity, Brett," Jeremy pipes up again. "You voted for a guy who promised to take my rights away and said people like me are groomers."

"That doesn't mean I think that."

"But it means you align yourself with people who do," Jeremy corrects him. "You have always said shit, laughing off my feelings about it, and now that you've had someone at the top tell you your shitty opinions are valid, you've made me feel subhuman."

"Why is everyone blaming me for everything?!"

"We're not blaming you, we're telling you," Jeremy says. "You can love someone and hate everything about them. I'm not asking you to love me, I'm asking you to respect me."

"But I do love you, Jer. I respect the hell out of you."

"Good to know."

"Why are you causing drama when we're supposed to be celebrating?" Ritchie butts in.

"Ritchie, don't act like you're any better. You make a mess everywhere you go."

He looks confused. "No I don't!"

"Oh my god, yes you do," I disagree. "You're always stirring up shit and causing drama, then we all have to spend time cleaning up the damage you leave behind."

"Well, you're not perfect either. You can be a real bitch sometimes and we all just take it on the chin because 'that's Teagan.'"

Does he feel like trying me? I get up, but Heath keeps me in my seat with an arm around my waist. "Rich, shut up. You're literally starting shit right now," Heath tries to stop him.

"He's right though," Brett agrees. Cute.

"Do you expect me to apologize?" I ask him.

"No, we definitely don't," Brett says with a roll of his eyes.

Ryan tries to pacify, "Guys, let's just calm—"

"Then how about you shut the fuck up for once, Brett?" I clap back. "Stop calling me out of my fucking name!"

"I'll stop saying you're a fucking bitch when you stop acting like one!"

My blood turns to ice. In my anger, I fling my wine into his face.

His jaw drops with shock, then he lunges at me. Heath pushes him down, making him go underwater, but the second he surfaces, he tries again. Ryan pulls him back while Heath and Jeremy half shield and half cage me behind them.

"Brett, stop!"

"Shut up, Heath! You act like she's not the biggest bitch to you all the time!"

"As if there's any other way I could hold my own in a group like this?!" I yell again. "A bunch of fucking cishet white dudes thinking that my life is just like yours, that nothing I go through on the daily is real. I don't tell you half the shit I have to put up with because you wouldn't listen or believe me even if I did!" I'm so mad I'm shaking. "I'm a bitch to protect myself! You're a willfully ignorant bigot for fun!"

"Stop it!" The girls finally run over with Mary leading the way, their faces blanched by our bullshit. "What is happening?!"

"We aren't friends," Jeremy says loudly. "We're just a bunch of people who have been in the same place at the same time. We've tolerated each other because we'd rather be miserable with company than be uncomfortable alone. It's about time we admit it."

A painfully awkward silence settles between us. It's the silence that falls when a debate is over, when the perfect point is made and there's no counterargument to be had. For what feels like a minute, the only sounds are the bubbling jets and my heart pounding in my ears.

Felicity runs over and pulls Brett from the water. Mary is by her side, doing the same with Ryan, both of them on the verge of tears. Brett turns back. "This is your fucking fault, Jer!"

"Fuck you too, Brett."

_____

A/N: Dramaaaaa. But whose side are you on? 

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