Free Breaking Even by C.M. Owens Page A

cringing.
    “Damn, girl,” Tag says, just as Dane sees her and chokes on his shot, laughing as soon as he coughs his drink down.
    She jerks her head toward the windows of the house, and a shrill scream of horror escapes her before she starts spitting the red out—well, trying to spit it out. Damn, this shit is awesome.
    She’s almost crying, so to relieve her panic, I manage to form words. “Relax,” I say through my laughter. “It’s just food dye.”
    Her eyes widen as she looks up, a long, red spit string still clinging to her lips. That’s gross.
    “You did this?” she almost yells.
    Yes. A little fun is about to begin.
    I just nod, proud of my little prank. Her face turns a furious red that rivals the stains in her mouth, and she twirls around angrily to stomp out.
    That’s no fun.
    “Way to lose a date,” Dane chuckles, acknowledging me without any hint of distaste.
    At least he’s warming up.
    Hmmm. Ingrid’s reaction was not the result I expected. In fact, that’s the opposite of what I wanted. I think I’ve laughed more in the past few days than I ever have in my life. I really should have started doing this sooner.
    “I wish Brin hadn’t made me call a temporary truce,” I grumble, now feeling bored as Wren and she slowly make their way back toward us.
    “You can hold off on torturing her for one more day,” Tag snickers.
    It’s Saturday. I had a lot of shit planned for our war.
    “They won’t work,” I say mildly, tossing back a shot of my own before gesturing toward the beach.
    “Why?” Tag asks, sipping his beer now.
    “Wren and Brin? How dorky is it to have rhyming names?” I ask incredulously.
    I thought that would be obvious.
    Dane growls for some weird reason, and Tag turns his head to snicker. Oh. Shit. Rain and Dane. Oops.
    “My bad,” I mutter as Dane walks off.
    And we were just starting to make progress. Oh well.
    Brin and Wren walk up the steps together, and I notice her beer is low. It’s just low enough for this little bottle of red to do some damage.
    I glance down, weighing my options, and shrug. Fuck it.
    ***
    BRIN
    Wren is sweet, but he seems so distracted. I feel like I’m boring him to death, and every time I think he’s telling a joke, I try to laugh. But I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. I haven’t tried dating since high school.
    This was so stupid.
    “You need a shot,” Rye says from behind me, grinning while giving me a wink.
    He’s embarrassing the hell out of me right now. Knowing he’s told everyone here about our war—mostly Wren—is mortifying. Wren probably thinks I’m a two-year-old.
    Though liquor is the enemy, a shot would be perfect right now.
    “Thanks,” I murmur with a tight smile, growing more nervous by the second.
    Wren is texting someone. Again. That’s what he’s done for most of the time we’ve been out here. The walk on the beach consisted of him texting, or cursing under his breath, or apologizing for ignoring me.
    I’ve never felt so uncomfortable.
    Rye takes my beer as I absently grab a lime wedge and stare at the shot, trying to gather courage. Then I chug it down, suck on the lime, and reach for my beer. He hands it to me promptly while grinning. I’m sure my face is screwed up in disgust. That was nowhere nearly as good as the shots at Silk.
    “Thanks,” I say, sucking in a breath as I finish drinking the rest of my beer, and Rye covers his mouth with his hand as he shakes with suppressed laughter.
    Surely my face wasn’t that distorted.
    When I turn back to Wren, he’s putting his phone away and apologizing for the hundredth time tonight.
    “It’s fine,” I say with my same, fake smile, but his eyes widen in horror as he stares at my mouth.
    “What the hell?” he asks through a strangled cough.
    I frown, and then wipe my mouth. When red appears on my fingertips, I gasp, worried about where the hell I might be bleeding from. But when I hear the roaring laughter coming from my asshole neighbor, I