“You can start by complimenting my outfit and my mighty fine ass.”
I chuckle and when she grins at me, I know we’ll be okay. “I love that outfit. The attention to detail on that sequined chicken is incredible. It brings out the color of your eyes,” I say, pointing to the garishly bright sweater she’s wearing.
“I picked it for you. I wanted to dress up for you.”
“Well, I’m flattered. But I must say... Your ass is mighty fine in those black sweats.”
“I’ve been working out.” She flexes her arm muscles.
“It shows. You don’t look a day over seventy.”
Her eyes flash and she beams at me. “You think so?”
“Ethel, I’d never lie to you.”
“Oh, Colton... You know how to make a girl swoon. Sometimes. When your head isn’t so far up your ass you can’t see the forest for the trees. Now, what are you going to do about dear Emerson?”
I shrug and drop into the seat beside my second favorite woman. “I don’t know. She still won’t talk to me. Avoids me at all costs.”
“Do you want her back?”
“In any way I can. Friends. Bang buddies. Whatever she’ll give me, I’ll be happy. I hate the way things are now.”
“Then, my dear boy, you need a grand gesture.” She lifts her arms in a wide circle, smacking me on the face with her flowers.
“Flowers?”
“That might have worked on an old duck like me. But Emerson needs something more. Something that shows you care about her and you’re sorry. Make it grand. Make it from the heart.”
“How did you get so wise?”
“Oprah.”
I throw my head back and laugh.
His fingers dance across her bare skin, the small sliver peeking out below her tank top, rubbing circles on her hip. My favorite part of her body. I love the way she gets goosebumps when I drag my teeth over that spot.
And now he’s touching her there.
Fucker.
My fingers tighten around the neck of the beer I’m still holding. It’s warm and tastes like shit, but I need something in my hands so I don’t punch Austin in the face. I kind of need him on his game next week. Coach has organized a pre-season, warm-up game and we’re up against the one team we couldn’t beat last season. If they weren’t knocked out in the first round of finals because their star shooter suffered an injury, I know they would have won the championship. They’re that good.
And I need Austin on his game, because I’m sure as fuck not. I’m lucky if I make it through an entire coaching session. It’s hard to focus on basketball when a part of me is missing.
Em barely speaks. She’s never home. And the other night I woke to her crying beside me. I wanted to reach out and comfort her, tell her everything is okay, but I didn’t.
I’m chicken shit.
Chicken shit doesn’t cover it. Clyde and Jordan have more balls than I do.
Em’s sitting on Austin’s lap; her fingers are in his hair. She’s talking to him and a couple of other people I couldn’t care less to meet. Another party. Another crowd.
Her fingers should be in my hair.
She should laugh at what I’m saying.
Not him.
Austin tilts his head and whispers something in her ear, and she nods and smiles.
My leg is bouncing and I’m rocking back and forth. It’s taking all my effort not to get up and go over there.
“Urgh. So gross,” a quiet voice says from beside me. The weird girl is sitting to my left. The one who screwed everything up. Where the fuck did she come from?
“You talking to me?”
She doesn’t fit in here. That much is obvious. Her long straight blonde hair with a ribbon tied in a bow on top of her head, her collared white shirt under a black dress. I take her in, from the childish hairstyle to the frilly socks on her feet and the book clutched in her hands; she looks like Alice in fucking Wonderland. And who the hell brings a book to a college party?
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” Her shoulders slump, and she wraps her arms around her waist. “Do you want to talk to me?”
Uhh.
No. Not really. Not after her last piece of advice.
“I see you listened to what I said over the summer,” she says.
“Yeah. Thanks for that.” I grit my teeth.
“You’re welcome.” She sighs. “They’re happy, aren’t they?”
I grunt out a response. My eyes still trained on Emerson and Austin.
Who cares if they’re happy? I’m fucking miserable.
He glances around Em and catches my eye before sliding his gaze to the weird girl beside me. His eyes flash with something and they narrow on me again. He leans in close and whispers in Em’s ear.
“Get a room,” the weird girl mumbles, drawing my attention back to her.
“Why are you here? You don’t seem the party type.”
“Neither do you, and a friend invited me.”
I make a show of looking around, over my shoulder, beside me, beside her. I stand and lift the cushion from the sofa. “Don’t see any friends here, do you?”
She giggles. It’s soft and sweet, and almost childlike in its innocence. I thought Em was innocent, naïve. But this girl takes the cake for sure. I didn’t pay that much attention to her when we went camping. I was thinking with my dick.
“He’s over there.” She drags her eyes over to Austin and Em.
Well, that perks me up.
“I figured. How long have you been friends?”
“Since kindergarten.”
“Funny you should say that. Em, the one that’s...” Straddling him? What the hell does she think she’s doing? “Sitting on his legs,” I grind out, refusing to say the word straddle out loud because that implies parts that have no business touching each other, are in fact touching, rubbing, feeling...
“I know who Em is.”
“Yeah. Em. She’s my best friend.” I lift a shoulder in a half shrug. “From childhood, too.”
“I know. Austin’s told me all about her.” She smiles. “She’s umm...” Alice—I’m going with Alice because I haven’t asked her name and don’t really care—avoids eye contact and fiddles with the cover of her book. “Lovely. She is. He can’t shut up about her.”
That’s news to me. Em doesn’t talk about him. But Em hardly speaks to me now, so I can’t go off that. I know they hang out, but she never tells me much. Until this point, I thought they were friends. Hell, I’m sure of it. But what if me ending things the way I did pushed Em into his arms?
“He likes her.” Alice sighs. “I can’t compete with that.”
I whip my head around to her. “Compete?”
She shrugs and gives me a sad smile.
“You’re in love with him?”
“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t see me as any more than his little sister.”
“Have you got gum?” I ask. I don’t mean to sound insensitive. That’s a lie. I don’t care how I sound. But I’m still trying that whole fake feelings thing. She’s in love with Austin, and I have an idea.
Alice frowns. “What?”