The six friends had parted ways after college with a last night of drinks, dancing and sex. Cleo Sonterra remembered the night full well, for it was the night she and David had made love after months of flirting, taunting and teasing. He’d made love to her in his dorm room, in a small rumpled bed, with the lights turned off. Cleo had expected him to be thorough and tender, but in reality he’d been shaky, clumsy and too drunk to think coherently. Her lack of enthusiasm hadn’t helped matters much, and that was only because she’d been thinking of someone else entirely—someone she shouldn’t have been thinking of at that moment. It was the first time Cleo and David had sex—and the last. It had been a night such as this, friends gathered out on the beach with a bonfire that blazed high and mighty toward the dark skies. Tonight there was no massive fire except for the flames blazing in the six pairs of eyes present, and that was merely a reflection of the flickering orange lights from the dozens of steel lanterns scattered over the sand.
