Her statement was a moment of sincere vulnerability.
She said she was comfortable with us.
Trusted us.
And we’ve nuked it.
A groan dies inside his throat, and he places a closed fist on the shelf next to him. Eyes still on Sulli. “There’s no good way to answer it without ruining…what we have.”
I smack his chest. “Which is?”
“We’re friends.” He licks his lips, pushing back his black hair. “But it’s not like you and me. The two of us are closer in age. We’re both men. I’ve been friends with you longer. She’s older now…but it’s…” He sighs, confused, then shakes his head. “Her statement was hypothetical anyway. She’s going to have a boyfriend who’ll take her virginity. Let’s just thank whoever it’s not the fucking Rooster.”
Yeah. Her ex-boyfriend, Will Rochester, is a cock.
I almost smile, remembering our exchange with Sulli when she found out her boyfriend’s code name on comms.
“He’s not a cock!” She slugged Akara’s shoulder.
I laughed, then she slugged mine.
“His cock is probably ten times bigger than both of yours,” she said in defiance.
“No way in hell,” I told her.
She stared at our crotches. Unabashed, brazen as fuck.
This was almost a year ago. Akara reassured her she wasn’t the butt of a joke, but I get the feeling she’s thinking she’s one now. Left out. And we can’t help that sometimes. Akara and I are older, like he said. We have a friendship that’s different than when she joins us.
Not better or worse, just different.
In REI, Akara tells me quietly, “She doesn’t need me or you to do it.” To take her virginity.
“Then tell her that,” I say. “Tell her something.”
He shakes his head. “She wants me to say yes.”
“Then say yes.”
He goes quiet.
“Mary Mother of God,” I groan. “Then I’ll say yes.”
He shoots me a look like no you will not. And we’ve returned to square one.
Back in the funhouse, I was so close to replying to Sulli, if that’s what you want, I’d be of service. But against better judgment, I turned to Akara. He gave me one of his classic shut the fuck up, Banks looks. So I shut down.
It wasn’t until Sulli ran out of the funhouse that Akara told me hand-to-heart not to reply to her. Ever. To let her statement languish until it doesn’t exist.
I’m not a coward. Neither is he.
But this is fucking cowardly. He’s just so afraid of changing his dynamic with Sulli. He’s gripping onto the past and trying to piece back the remnants, but it’s already gone.
Probably for the better. She’s not the teenager he used to protect anymore.
Sulli stands up and pockets her cell.
We grow quiet as she approaches.
“My parents called,” she explains. “They’ll be here in ten minutes.” She nods a lot to herself, maybe nervously.
We’re not scared of her parents. Akara and I were bodyguards to minors before, so we’ve had to deal with their parents throughout the years. He just has more experience with the Meadows than me.
Sulli pulls her cart closer. “We should finish shopping.” She glances at my helmet, her lips inching in a smile. “I don’t think that one’s your color.”
I snap the buckles, then eye Akara. “She’s insulting your shopping skills.”
“Hers aren’t any better.” He places a bright pink helmet on Sulli’s head. “Gotta protect this one.” He knocks the helmet with a light fist.
“Careful,” I tell Akara, as we walk to the center of the store. “You break it, you bought it.”
Sulli pushes the cart, staying quiet. She even removes the pink helmet and places it on a rack of lanterns. Red patches roast her cheeks.
My pulse nosedives. I should’ve just flirted back with her instead of making a joke to Akara. God fucking dammit. She looks more aware like it’s the two of us versus her, and not just the three of us joking around.
Her neck is flushed, and she actually tries to outpace us. The wheels screech on the cart, and we let her go ahead.
“Shit,” Akara mutters and fits a baseball hat on backwards.
We roll to a stop.
Sulli has halted in front of a display of tents. Two fingers rest to her lips in her iconic concentration face. An expression that has graced sports magazine covers.
Brown hair falling over her shoulder, she turns to Akara and me. “How fucking big should the tent be? Do I need two—?”
“Protocol is one,” Akara reminds her. “But if you’d be more comfortable with—”
“One is fine,” she cuts him off, her voice tight. “Just fucking fine.” She tries to whisper but she’s terrible at it.
I hang my head, smiling.
Akara meets my gaze, smiling too. Even in her frustration, she’s really cute.
“Hey, string bean,” Akara calls to Sulli. “Maybe up it to a four-person tent for this one.” He squeezes my shoulder.
I smile again, biting on the toothpick.
She sizes me up, starting from my feet. No, really—she lingers on my feet, on my hands, then my dick. “Yeah, Jane said your brother has a big shoe size.” It tenses the air. “I mean, I’m just guessing your size is the fucking same.”
“Shoe size, yeah, but we’re not the same.”
“Oh hey, I know.”
I nod more. Christ, I feel like a jackass for assuming she might see me like a carbon copy of Thatcher. I hate being treated like we’re the same person.
We’re two separate human beings with individual thoughts and desires, and I forget we even look alike half the time.
I motion to a teal four-person tent. “That one looks good.”
“This one?” she points and looks for confirmation.
I nod.
She reads the tag for details.
Comms crackle in my earpiece, and I hear the Alpha lead. “Price to Akara and Banks, we’re heading inside the store.”
Akara clicks his mic. “See you.”
My focused gaze diverts to the entrance. Two bodyguards are escorting a scruffy-jawed fifty-year-old Ryke Meadows and his forty-three-year-old bubbly wife. She’s not bouncing on her toes like usual. Daisy Calloway searches left and right for her daughter. Concern etched in her eyes.
“Ca-caw!” Daisy calls out.
Sulli cups her hands over her mouth. “Ca-caw!”
Daisy spins around in the wrong direction.
Being six-seven, I’m the only one who can see over the shelves. I wave a hand until Sulli’s mom spots me. Her face lights up, she speaks to Ryke, and they both sprint over to the tents.
When I was Xander’s bodyguard, I dealt with Ryke’s half-brother: Loren Hale. Xander is a particular client, and mostly Lo was grateful for me and Thatcher.
Ryke is different. He’s told me, “Don’t get too fucking close” when I was already standing four hockey sticks away from Sulli.
He has more guards up around me than around Akara.
Because A.) two bodyguards have fucked clients. One of them is my brother. And B.) Ryke hasn’t known me like he knows Akara.
So again, I’m coming in at a disadvantage.