Chapter 13

Joey

“Why are we hiding in here when all of the fun is out there?” Andi points through the wall toward the living room.

“He kissed me!” I hiss.

“I know. I was two feet away when it happened.” She grins. “That hand in the hair was a nice touch.”

My scalp burns at the memory.

“It was just a stupid kiss. He did it to prove a point and get me to stop the taunting.”

“It was more than that,” she insists.

I shake my head. “It wasn’t.”

“He was hard,” she persists.

Hell, I was hard.

“I missed that,” I mutter.

I didn’t.

“I don’t know how. I think he’ll give Cooper a run for his money.” She goes silent for a few seconds. “This makes naked wrestling even more important.”

I huff a quick laugh. “Can we talk about something else?”

All I can focus on are the memories of his lips, his tongue, the delighted shock in his golden eyes when he pulled away.

“Like picking out names for your future children? Count me in.”

Rolling my eyes, I grab my pillow and clutch it to my chest.

I hate that he kissed me. Don’t get me wrong, the kiss was beyond amazing, but the refresher of how his lips felt on mine is worse than the fading memory.

“I hope they have his tan,” she continues. “So they don’t burn in the sun like you do.”

“Stop.”

Is she nuts? Forgetting we’re both guys. Children don’t have the traits of their adopted parents.

I just stare as she pulls out her phone. “Would you consider his eyes brown or hazel?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m trying to see what color eyes your babies will have.” She stares down at her phone. “Looks like a fifty percent chance they’ll have your blue eyes, but brown eyes are pretty dominant.”

“Quit it. We’d have to adopt children you fool.”

Her beaming smile tells me that I’ve been busted. She forced me to think about it. This deceptive heifer. “They’ll be gorgeous no matter what, obviously, but I think dark hair and light eyes is the best combination.”

Shaking my head, I bury my face in the pillow.

“Looks like Jon and I will have dark-haired, light-eyed babies. I can’t wait.”

And that right there is her whole point ladies and gentlemen. Witnessing that single kiss has opened up the possibility of her and my brother. At least in her eyes anyway.

“They’re leaving,” she pouts when the living room grows quieter with the TV turned off. “Let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

“Everyone is going to the Tavern.” She’s more than a little disappointed when I look up at her but don’t move.

“I’m not.”

“We have to.”

“I’m not going. Feel free to join them if you want.”

“Seriously?” She frowns. “I’m your friend. I’m not going unless you go.”

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“If we don’t go, Jon is going to pick up some chick.” I hate the pain in her eyes.

“Even if we do go, Jon is going to pick up some chick.”

Flinching, she turns her eyes to the closed bedroom door as the front door of the house closes with a snap.

Disappointment drags her shoulders down, but it’s been like this for years. Her one-sided obsession with my brother has brought her more heartache than any one person should suffer, but she just won’t move on from it. She’s tried casual dating, but it never works out for her. She can’t give anyone a hundred percent of herself because of this delusion that she has. She’s the only one who doesn’t realize that the coupling will never happen.

“Don’t you want to go make sure Anthony doesn’t pick up some other chick?”

Pain, hot and heavy, fills my chest, but I’m not worried he’ll pick up a chick. Knowing that he may go just to replace my lips with those of another man hurts more than I want to admit.

“Anthony isn’t mine to worry about.”

“He kissed you,” she argues. “That means something.”

“It means he wanted me to shut up,” I murmur.

“He ravaged your mouth, Jo. It wasn’t some little peck on the lips. I got hot just from watching it.”

I’m still hot from experiencing it.

“I’ve already forgotten about it.”

“Lying has never been one of your strengths,” she grumbles, but sits back further against my headboard, resigned to staying in for the night.

“I’m not breaking the rule,” I say after a long pause. “He shouldn’t have broken the rule tonight, either.”

“Regardless. It’s been broken. I don’t see the point in that stupid fucking rule anyway.”

“You know why we have it,” I argue.

“I’m not going to hook up with your brother and walk away from you.”

I know she wouldn’t, but that’s not the point. She’d be miserable because Jon won’t change. She’s imagined hooking up with him and them riding off into the sunset, but my brother is notorious for sleeping with girls and walking away the next day. He has no intentions of ever settling down, which she’s well aware of since he speaks of it loud and often. It doesn’t stop her from fantasizing about how one night with her will change him forever. She’s only setting herself up for major disappointment, but being upset over it never happening is better than the aftermath if it does.

“I know you wouldn’t walk away. You’d stick around and be miserable every time he meets up with another chick or brings someone new home for the night.”

Silence fills the room. We’ve had this conversation more times than I can count.

“You deserve better than what Jon can offer you.”

“I love him,” she confesses.

“You want my honest opinion?”

“Always.”

“Like my seriously honest opinion?” She nods. “I think you’re in love with the idea of him. I think you love him, but I don’t think you can be in love with someone you’ve never had anything more than a friendship with.”

She contemplates my words for a long while before speaking again. “We’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

“I can handle that.” I reach over and give her hand a squeeze. “Are you staying over tonight?”

“If that’s all right?”

“You’re welcome anytime; you know that. It’s just you know what will more than likely happen.”

She nods but still stands from the bed, heading to my dresser for a t-shirt and a pair of shorts to sleep in. She tosses a set of clothes to me before stripping out of her dress and changing.

We both know that there’s a major chance that Jon will bring someone home tonight. We know that we will be woken in the middle of the night to pants, giggling, and his voice promising her a good time before they close themselves into his room for a few hours.

Andi will lie awake in the bed, ears peeled waiting for that other girl to leave. She’ll cry herself to sleep after and pretend like nothing is wrong, like her heart hasn’t been broken yet again over coffee in the morning.

“Maybe we should grab a couple of bottles of wine and snuggle up for a Say Yes to the Dress marathon?”

Grinning at my suggestion, she tugs the t-shirt over her head. In her mind, the offer means that she may still be awake when Jon comes stumbling through the door, and that increases her chances of thwarting his mattress plans. My goal is that she’s drunk and passed out long before that happens.

“In here though,” I counter. “My bed is much more comfortable than the couch. I woke up with that sharp pain in my back last time I fell asleep in there.”

“You get the wine, and I’ll pull up the DVR.” She’s disappointed yet again. I can see it in her eyes, but as much as she may want to ruin his plans, I know it kills her that Jon always chooses others over her.

Leaving the room, I do my best not to look at the chair I was sitting in earlier when Anthony took my mouth like it belonged to him. I blame the shiver racing up my spine and settling in my cock on the chilly air conditioner running on full blast to compete with the summer heat outside.

The tremble in my fingers that almost makes me drop the wine glasses has nothing to do with picturing Anthony doing exactly the same thing to some other girl at the Tavern.

“That stupid kiss,” I mutter to myself. “I should’ve slapped him for even thinking it was okay.”

I should junk-punch him for doing it in front of everyone.

Clearing my throat, I tuck a bottle of wine under each arm and head back to my bedroom. The beginning credits are already rolling on my TV when I make it back and hand Andi the glasses and bottles before shrugging out of my clothes and pulling on a pair of loose shorts.

After climbing in beside her, we watch the show. My eyes are on the TV, but I’m watching with disinterest. Andi is all but taking notes as she comments on which things would be perfect for her fairytale wedding.

Nodding and smiling when it’s relevant, I think about Anthony’s lips on mine, his hand fisting my hair, and the way I regret ever making that damn rule in high school.

And fuck Rebecca Buchannan for still ruining my life all of these years later.