“Also, you had your beer brain on so, she could have been awful but in the moment, felt great,” Jerry points out.
“Only one way to find out.” Shane winks and then peels off a piece of his cinnamon bun and puts it on my plate. He knows me so well. “Jerry had a good night himself. Threw up on the fire escape.”
“Oh Jerry, no, you didn’t.”
He casually raises his hand and says, “Guilty.”
“Seriously, you guys. Do you lose all sense of being normal humans when I’m not around? Hand jobs in closets and spilling your guts on fire escapes?”
“Shall we talk about the frat party—?”
“I was a freshman,” I hiss. “And you two have done plenty of stupid shit since then, including last night.”
“I don’t think my thing was stupid,” Shane states. “It was smart. I saw an empty room and I took advantage of it.”
“You saw a closet, not a room. Please just tell me you didn’t get anything on anyone’s jackets.”
“Please, I’m not a barbarian.”
Changing the subject, Jerry steps in and says, “How was your night all alone? Carson asked if you were at the party last night.” My stomach flutters. “Looked like he really wanted you there.”
“Yeah, he seemed actually . . . oh shit.” Shane’s eyes widen. “Stone’s headed right toward us. Everyone act cool. Milly, don’t waste my cinnamon bun by shoving it in his mouth.”
Before I can turn around to see Carson, I feel his hand touch my back, and then he’s leaning over my shoulder and taking my jaw in his hand. He lifts my lips to his and presses a sweet kiss across them, the taste of mint fresh on his tongue.
When he pulls away—and I stop swooning—my eyes divert to my two best friends, whose jaws are touching the table. Their eyes are as wide as their cinnamon buns.
Best. Reaction. Ever.
Carson pulls up a chair next to me, keeps his arm around my shoulders, and says, “Morning, Mills. How was your night?”
“It was amazing.” I smile at him and because I can, I lean over and press a quick kiss to his jaw. The grin I get in return is just perfect.
After staring at me for a couple seconds, Carson picks up one of my pieces of bacon and addresses Jerry and Shane. “Hey boys, how’s it going? Have a good time at the party last night?” He bites into the piece of bacon and looks between two boys who are stunned speechless.
I place my arm on Carson’s leg and say, “I haven’t actually let them know what happened at the ballpark.”
“Ah, that explains the looks on their faces. I thought they were just in awe of my muscles like you were last night.” Like the cheesehead he is, he holds his arm out in front of me and flexes his wrist so his forearm muscles fire up.
“Keep it up, Stone. Last time I tell you anything.” He chuckles and plants a kiss on the side of my head.
“Uhh”—Shane blinks a few times—“what the hell is going on here?”
“Are you two . . . dating?” Jerry asks, swallowing hard.
“Is that why you were wearing mascara the other day? You were planning on making a move?” Shane continues.
“The mascara should have been a dead giveaway.” Jerry snaps his fingers. “We’re losing our touch.”
“The mascara has nothing to do with this. I just like wearing it sometimes,” I say, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks.
Carson leans over and says, “You’re pretty with or without it.”
Shane clutches his chest. “Ah, look at that, dude. He fucking likes our little Millipede.”
“This isn’t because she’s Cory Potter’s sister, is it?” Wow. Jerry holds nothing back.
Carson stiffens next to me as my stomach momentarily drops. He does know I’m Cory’s sister now, but that doesn’t matter, right?
Dread starts to fill me, and I attempt to recount the timeline of when Carson found out to when he started showing signs of liking me. Muddled and confused, my brain attempts to account every instance. Carson sits up straight and keeps his arm tight around my shoulders.
“Valid question, and if I didn’t know that you were protective of Milly, I’d be ready to punch your cock off over that assumption, but I get it. No, this has nothing to do with her brother and everything to do with Milly. I like her. I’ve liked her for a long time now.”
“So the fact that her brother is one of the highest paid baseball players in the sport doesn’t factor into your decision?” Shane asks.
Gee, thanks, boys. This isn’t insulting or embarrassing at all.
“Not even in the slightest. I didn’t find out until recently. I started crushing on this girl the minute she put me in my place after one of our games. And then when she schooled me in the cages, I was a goner.”
“Mm-hmm.” Jerry rubs his chin. “And what are your intentions with our Millipede?” Why are they just starting with that nickname? I really think they live to humiliate me.
“My intentions are to date her, exclusively,” Carson answers with ease, taking on this spur-of-the moment questioning with ease.
“Exclusively.” Shane steeples his fingers and rests his chin on them. “What does that word mean to you?”
Jesus.
“It means we are exclusive. She’s mine and I’m hers, no one else is involved.”
“I see. I see.” Jerry taps the table and then leans forward and says, “She’s had two sexual partners her entire life, so what are your intentions sexually?”
“Annnd we’re done.” I stand abruptly from the table. “This was fun, but I need to get to class.”
“That’s fine.” Shane waves me away. “You don’t need to be here for this inquisition.”
Taking Carson by the hand, I pull him—
“Gasp.” Jerry points at my joined hand with Carson like an idiot. “Look, they’re holding hands. Aw, Milly.”
Shane and Jerry lean in together, holding their hearts and each other at the same time.
“Our little girl is getting everything she’s ever dreamed of,” Shane says on a fake sniff.
Yup, I should have waited to tell them. I love these two idiots and their protectiveness, but along with their shield comes relentless teasing. It’s something I’m used to—something I realize is an automatic consequence when hanging around guys—and I’m accustomed to absorbing each jab with little to no care.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to vacate a situation before it gets out of control. And we are about one question away from total humiliation.
I point to my two obnoxious friends and say, “When you two get your shit together, maybe we can have another conversation.”
“Or a dinner date,” Shane says, releasing Jerry and going back to his plate.
“A dinner date sounds like a winning idea,” Jerry says, feeding off Shane.
Rolling my eyes, I pull on Carson’s arm, who says over his shoulder, “More than a winning idea, fellas, a dinner date must be penciled in to your schedules.”
“Anything for you, beefcake,” Shane calls out and pretends to dab at his eyes. “I’m just so happy right now.”