“Why? You have a disease I should be worried about?”
“No,” she shoots back.
“Then we’re good.”
“But how do I know when you last washed your thumb? You could have just wiped germs all over my lip.”
“You know,” I say, pretending to give my answer great thought, “I was dipping my thumb into random people’s pants before I came here. Maybe you should be worried.”
“Why are you like this?” She smiles.
“Why am I like this? Why are you like this?” I counter lamely.
“You can do better than that, Castle.”
“I’m distracted by the celery salt,” I say, and take another bite of my hot dog just as I hear someone call out Indie’s name from a distance. We both look to the right to see Deacon—of all people—jogging toward us.
Just fucking great.
When he spots me, he does a double take and then laughs, as if to say, “What are the chances?”
High, the chances are apparently very high.
“Oh shit, I had no idea that was you, Linc.” We do a quick bro shake and then he sits down next to Indie. “What are you guys up to?”
Now if this was any other guy, I’d be fucking pissed, especially if Indie was my girl—which she isn’t—but if she was, Deacon would be perceived as a total cock block.
A giant, two-hundred-pound chastity belt.
Sir Cockus-the-Blockus of Clueless-ville.
A certified jimmy jacker. You get the point.
It’s obvious that Indie and I are enjoying a meal together—hello, we’re sharing goddamn fries—and he came and welcomed himself to our table.
But that’s not how Deacon is. He’s genuinely a happy, outgoing guy who likes to hang out with people. He isn’t malicious, nor does he plan things to grate on people’s nerves.
Nope.
This is him—eating one of our fries without asking—and hanging out.
“Went for a walk on the boardwalk and did some stretches,” Indie answers, and then elbows his arm. “What about you?”
I watch from across the table, the ease they already have with each other, the glances, the way Indie’s body almost leans in toward Deacon. It’s not comforting; it’s really fucking annoying, and I can feel the heat of irritation start to bleed up my neck to the base of my skull.
That’s going to be a tension headache. Yup, I can already feel the thrumming starting . . .
“Rusty, Hartley, and I decided to toss the ball around on the beach. Just grabbed some hoagies and we’re headed back to the house.” Deacon addresses me. “We tried to text you, man, to see if you wanted anything.”
“Oh shit, sorry.” I reach for my phone in my pocket, taking in all the missed texts.
“Nah, it’s cool. I get it. Hartley wants to watch All-American on Netflix when we get home. Want us to wait for you?”
“Go ahead. I can catch up.”
“Cool, I’ll leave you guys to it.” Deacon grabs another fry, and then winks at Indie. “I’ll see you later. Have fun, you guys.”
With a quick salute, he takes off toward the parking lot where I spot Hartley’s black SUV. It’s hard not to spot given it’s a TESLA and fucking sick. Hartley’s dad had an electric plug installed in our house for Hartley’s SUV.
As Deacon jogs away, I catch Indie’s lingering gaze before she returns to her hot dog, and just like that, the bubble I was living in bursts. I’m left feeling annoyed because of a really nice guy who just bombed my second non-date with Indie. I just wish I knew why the fuck it annoyed me so much.
I pull up to Indie’s house.
We didn’t talk much the rest of the evening. I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say and it seemed neither could Indie. It was as if Deacon came along with his fucking friendly and jolly Santa-like attitude and threw a bucket of cold water over our impromptu dinner.
Dousing any flames that may have been sparking.
Not that I’m looking for sparks, but our connection is hard to deny, especially our easy witty banter.
Either way, after Deacon left, our night ended abruptly.
Once we finished our dogs, Indie said she should probably get back to her house to get ready for the school week, and I didn’t argue with her.
Now that we’re in front of her house and she’s unbuckling her seatbelt, I feel desperate to say something, anything that would keep her in my company for a few more minutes.
Anything that would make up for my inability to hold a conversation after getting my dick stepped on and flattened by Deacon.
“Thanks for going on a walk with me,” I say. “And thanks for dinner. I think those were the best wieners I’ve ever put in my mouth.” Not great, but it’s something.
She chuckles. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”
“The whole ride home.”
“What impeccable restraint.”
She opens the door and before she can get out, I tug on her hand and say, “Hold on a second.” I reach behind her seat and pull out a bag with a bath bomb in it. “Here.”
Surprised, she examines the bath bomb and then looks back at me. “Is this a bath bomb?”
“It is. My mom sends a bunch to me every month. They’re infused with homeopathic oils that help soothe my sore muscles. Fill up your tub when you get inside and try to hang out in the water for at least fifteen minutes. You’ll thank me later. Oh, and just so you know, I’ve never handed them out to other people, so consider yourself lucky.”
“You’re giving me a bath bomb,” she says, still shocked.
“Yeah, is that a problem?”
“No, it’s just . . .” Her lips tip up. “It’s really sweet. Thanks, Castle.”
“You’re welcome.” I shrug, trying to pass it off as nothing.
Unexpectedly, she leans over the console and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me into a hug. Only able to maneuver so one hand is free, I squeeze her tight, letting myself revel in the feel of her pressed against my body for a second before she pulls away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lincoln.”
She hops out and shuts the door. “See you tomorrow, Mayhem.” She gives me a cute wave and then disappears up her stairs and into her house.
Letting out a long sigh, I rest my head against my seat and start my engine. Time to head home.
Knock. Knock.
“Come in,” I call out.
“Are your pants up? Hand anywhere near your penis?” I hear Deacon’s voice call through the door.
“No, I’m not jacking off like your brother.”
The door slowly opens, and Deacon peeks his head through, but his eyes are closed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Jesus.” I laugh.
When he opens his eyes, he sighs in relief. “Can’t ever be too sure. When Rusty was saying yes, it was because he was ready to come, not telling me I could come in. Trust me, that’s an image you don’t get out of your head for a while.”
“I believe it.” I nod toward my bed for him to sit. “What’s up?”
Deacon takes a seat and clasps his hands together in front of him. “Can I ask you something? And I don’t want you to get mad at me, but I really need to know the answer to the question.”