HARPER

We rest with our backs against the edge of the pool, the lenses of our cheap sunglasses splashed with drops of drying water. Our ridiculous hats are keeping the sun off our faces for the most part, but I can feel my shoulders getting hot where the shade doesn't cover. I dip them beneath the surface.

"Where ya going?" Asher jokes.

"I don't think I have enough of this community pee water on my skin. Thought I'd slip in a little more," I answer.

"Thanks for that," he responds with a surprised disgust. "I hadn't really thought about it."

"You're welcome," I saw with a smile. I drag my hand across the surface and splash him in the face. It's not a violent tsunami, but the tepid water drips off his nose and he quickly pulls in his lips as if it would save them from contamination.

"It's like flushing a toilet on your face," he says, wiping the drops off his nose. "You should try it."

Before I can react, his hand skims the water and send a wave of community pool fluid into my face. "Oh, my God. I think a little got in my mouth."

The pool is full of teens now and the music is so loud no one can hear a word anyone is saying. But I don't miss the curve of his lips when he finally releases them. We make each other smile so frequently my cheeks are starting to hurt.

"That's what she said," he says mockingly.

We both watch as two couples play chicken in the middle of the shallow end. This trip is pretty much teens gone wild and it hasn't even been a full day of drinking yet. I quickly scan the patio area and can't find any adults more adult-ier than us. That's a scary thought, but also a fun one.

"This meeting tonight is going to be lame," Asher informs me.

"I know. No one is going to listen to the rules."

"Right. No one is going to listen for two hours to the rules. I mean did no one think to point out that most teens will probably be drunk by the time it starts?"

I chuckle. "Maybe that's their plan. They can feed us the rules and claim we were drunk if we don't follow them."

"Could be," he says, eying the bar at the edge of the pool.

There has been a line since we first came down. It's never-ending. As soon as a few people are helped, they seem to find their way back to the end of the line again. Some kids are going to drink their trip money all in the first few hours.

"Maybe we should get in line?" I ask half-joking. I'm not a big drinker, but the meeting is going to be super boring if we have to sit through it sober.

"I was just thinking that. What do you like to drink?" He pushes water up over his shoulders to cool them off. I watch as rivulets run down his tanned chest.

"Um," I try to focus, "anything."

"Alright. I'll be back."

"I'll go with you." I trust him, but I still want to watch my drink at all times.

We swim up to the bar and wait at the end of the line.

"What are you going to get?" I shout over the music.

"Something big and hard," he answers, motioning to the row of hard alcohol behind the bar.

"That's what she said," I reply.

"Good one," he compliments. "I sort of walked right into that one."

"I'll get whatever you do."

We watch as two girls turn from the bar with large, blended margaritas. Both of us cringe at the sight of the ice.

"On second thought," he says, "let's stick to beer."

"Right," I answer with a nod. Better safe than sorry.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asks. His brow is covered in sweat and he looks like he's had a headache for twenty years.

"Two beers please," Asher answers and then gives him our wet room key from his pocket. He slides it through the register and hands us our cold beers.

"Is this your first time here?" the bartender asks as he reaches across the bar to press two limes to the rims of our cups.

"Yes," we answer together.

He glances around the pool of drunk and belligerent teens and shakes his head. "You guys need to catch up," he tells us. With another quick glance to make sure no one was watching, he places two shot glasses on the bar and pours tequila into them.

"Thanks," Asher says, but when he turns to me his eyes go wide as if to warn me it won't go down easy.

"No problem." The man sets two more limes on a small plate in front of us and then grabs a shaker of salt from beneath the bar.

"Do you know how to do this?" Asher asks when the man moves down the bar to help other customers.

"I've seen it in movies," I tell him. I take in a brave, deep breath. I can do this.

Asher laughs. "Maybe you shouldn't if that's the extent of your experience."

I scowl at him and reach for the shot. His strong hand covers mine, stopping the motion. I hope he doesn't see the way my skin prickles with small bumps starting and my wrist where he's touching me, all the way up my arm and across my chest. He eyes pierce into mine.

"First you lick," he says and I watch his lips moving as if the whole thing is playing out in slow motion. His tongue darts across the skin above his thumb on the back of his hand. My body moves closer from the current of the water or whatever magic force his tongue just stirred up.

"Then," he says, shaking some salt on the licked skin, "you salt."

I take the shaker of salt from him, my eyes never leaving his. I let my tongue slip out from between my lips and slide along the delicate skin of the back of my hand. Tipping the shaker, I scatter the salt along the wet surface. This time he moves closer to me but I can't be sure if it's on purpose or from the force of all the bodies moving around us.

"Lick, swallow, suck."

"I'm sorry," I say breathlessly. Is he serious?

"That's what you do," he mouths. "Lick. Swallow. Suck."