Page 107 of Banter & Blushes #1

brIELLA

I should’ve known better than to invite Reid Bennett to the hospital gala.

It seems at events like these, all eyes are on him.

Not because he doesn’t fit in—he looks amazing in that navy blazer and crisp white shirt he’s wearing.

Not because he isn’t charming—he had the whole table laughing before the salad arrived.

I should’ve known better because it’s too easy to imagine him as mine when we are all dolled up and surrounded by so many other couples.

Love is in the air at the annual Valentine Gala, and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be loved by my best friend.

I mentally shake it off when I hear the announcer call Reid’s name as a winner of one of the raffle prizes.

Ried jumps up from his chair and whoops before taking the stairs two at a time to get his prize on stage.

The hospital gala organizer puts a lei over his head while the announcer reads off his prize.

My mouth drops open. My best friend just won an all-expense-paid trip to Hawaii.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I say, laughing as he makes his way back to the table grinning like a kid at Christmas. “You never win anything!”

Reid grins, his chocolate brown eyes sparkling. “Maybe my luck’s finally turning around.” He winks and slides into his chair beside me, his leg brushing mine under the table. He doesn’t even flinch. Meanwhile, I’m internally combusting.

My heart does that fluttery thing it always does around him, and I shove it back where it belongs.

Reid is my best friend. The one constant in my life since high school.

Crushing on him was a phase I was supposed to outgrow .

. . about eight years ago. Too bad the feelings are still there, growing bigger by the day, l ike a water balloon stuck on the faucet.

“You’re taking me with you, right?” I tease, even though the idea of spending five tropical days alone with Reid Bennett is equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. I only came tonight because of you. I never would’ve been here if you hadn’t guilt-tripped me into being your plus-one.”

“I did not guilt-trip you. I said you owed me for the time I pretended to be your girlfriend at your cousin’s wedding.

” Especially since I’d wanted to wrap my arms around him and kiss him silly at the end of the night.

Thankfully, I have the self-restraint of .

. . okay, so my self-restraint is questionable, but still.

I kept it together and didn’t actually kiss him silly.

I should have gotten an award of some kind.

“That was a traumatic day,” he deadpans. “You made me slow dance to Ed Sheeran.”

“You’re welcome,” I say sweetly, taking a sip of my sparkling cider. “That song won a Grammy.”

His smile softens, and for a second, something passes between us—something quiet and tender and unspoken. Something that gets my hopes up and makes me want things I shouldn’t.

Then someone taps him on the shoulder to congratulate him, and the moment slips away.

Five days in paradise. Just the two of us.

What could possibly go wrong?

“I have nothing to wear,” I groan, collapsing dramatically onto my bed as I stare at the open suitcase on the floor. “Do I pack the coral sundress or the blue one? Or both? Or neither? What if I’m too hot in jeans but too cold in a dress? Ugh, why is this so hard?”

Reid’s voice comes through the phone, teasing and perfectly calm. “Just pack it all, Bri. You always do this.”

“I’m not always indecisive,” I protest, grabbing a swimsuit and holding it up like it might give me answers.

“You literally texted me three different times today asking which sunscreen brand to bring.”

“That’s important! I burn in, like, seven minutes.”

“Well, in that case,” he says, laughter in his voice, “bring them all. Or just borrow mine. I bought three.”

“You’re packing three bottles of sunscreen?”

“I’m also packing six Hawaiian shirts.”

I laugh. “Six?”

“I couldn’t choose. One has pineapples. One has turtles. One has little surfboards and coconuts . . . It’s a vibe. ”

“Oh no,” I say, grinning. “We’re going to look like total tourists.”

“Correction. You’re going to look cute in your seventeen dresses. I’m going to look like a human beach towel.”

“You’ll still be the most charming guy at the luau.”

There’s a pause on the line. Not a long one. But enough that my stomach does a weird little flip.

He clears his throat. “So. Excited?”

I flop onto my back, staring at the ceiling. “Honestly? Yeah. I know it’s only five days, but I think it’s going to be exactly what I need.”

“Same,” he says softly. “We’ve both been overdue for a break.”

My heart squeezes. The past year’s been exhausting—long shifts at the hospital, barely any time off, and not nearly enough fun. Having something to look forward to feels like breathing again.

“Also,” I say, sitting up, “I meant to ask—did the resort confirm the room situation? I don’t want to get there and find out we’re awkwardly sharing a bed.”

“Oh. Yeah, I asked.” His voice is casual, breezy. “They’re putting us in a room with two queens. Separate beds. No surprises.”

“Perfect,” I say quickly. “I mean . . . yeah. That’s good.”

Because the idea of sleeping next to Reid in a tropical paradise?

Dangerous. Tempting. Confusing.

We go over our plans one more time—poolside the first day, volcano hike, scuba diving, the luau, dolphins, beach time, market browsing, sunset dinners.

It all sounds perfect.

Too perfect.

Which is probably why, after we hang up and I’m back to staring at my suitcase, I feel that same flutter of uncertainty beneath the excitement.

Because if something does happen—if we cross a line we can’t uncross—I don’t know what that means for us.

But if nothing happens?

I’m starting to think that might hurt even more.

And I’m not sure I packed anything to protect me from that kind of burn.