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8
I’m in trouble. And not, like, just a little trouble. I can’t fight my way out of this trouble, or run. I’m tangled in it, a mess of my own goddamn making. And I have no idea what to do.
I crept into Tommy’s room like a dog caught in the rain. No, in a mudslide, fur matted, belly hungry, paws raw, and eyes weary. One taste of Ha
Sleep is not an option. It hasn’t been for the last four hours. The sun is up now, and Ha
All that aside, it would probably do to repent right about now. Maybe wash my soul out a bit and examine my priorities in life. I can’t be doing this.
I slap my hand on my face and splay my fingers wide, muffling my groan. I rub life back into my skin and then run my hand through my hair a few times before sitting up from the rollout mat on the floor. Tommy hasn’t stopped snoring since I dropped him in his bed hours ago. He smells of tequila. That’s where it all went wrong. You don’t mix beer and tequila if you can help it. But Tommy was sticking it to me. Who’s suffering now?
The slight creak in the hallway catches my attention and I study the space under Tommy’s door while I hold my breath. Ha
I don’t move until the shadow of her feet disappears and the water turns on in the bathroom a few feet away. Where she’s undressing. And getting into the shower. And my God, do I want to join her.
Clearing my throat, I rock myself to a stand and roll the mat with my feet before nudging it under Tommy’s bedframe. He still hasn’t moved. Part of me wants him to wake up and accuse me of hitting on his sister so I can get this over with. The other part of me? He’s already gliding stealthily down the hallway in an attempt to get out of here without being noticed.
My efforts fail the second the bathroom door flies open and Ha
She startles and clutches at the place where her towel is knotted above her breasts. I shove my fists in my pockets and will my cock to remain chill.
“Sorry. I was just . . .” I take one hand out and grab at the back of my neck, laughing lightly as I avert my eyes and stare at the floor.
“You want to go with me to help at the spring fest?” she asks.
I glance up and am shocked at her nonchalant expression. Her head leans to the side, and her hip is jutted out enough that her thigh peeks through the edges of the towel.
“Sure,” I croak out, my voice cracking like a thirteen-year-old boy. She calls me on it with a tight smile and laugh. She steps forward and touches her fingertip on my nose. I literally cross my eyes to stare at it as she taps a few times.
“I’ll be right out,” she says. And so I’m not tempted to follow her or watch that towel fall before the door closes completely, I excuse myself downstairs where I take the world’s fastest, coldest shower.
Ha
“You’re such a dude,” I tease. She turns and wipes the milk mustache from her upper lip with the back of her hand before putting the lid back on the container.
“It was always hard keeping up with you and Tommy. It was either fit in and join the ranks or fall behind.” She laughs lightly then turns to put the milk away.
Me and Tommy. Me, Ha Before she turns to face me and disarm me with her ice-blue eyes, I let all the thoughts battling it out in my head come ru “About last night. I was . . . Tommy was . . .” Clearly, I don’t get far. Thankfully, Ha “It was a mistake. We were both tired. The race was intense, and you don’t want to hurt our friendship and the friendship you have with my brother.” She pulls her lips into a tight smile that pinches the sides of her mouth as she blinks at me slowly. “Basically, uh, yeah.” I swallow because her tone doesn’t sound as though she’s on the same page. Hell, I’m not even on the same page with myself. She holds my stare for a few seconds then laughs before rolling her eyes in the direction of her purse that’s tucked in the corner of the kitchen counter. “Fine, whatever,” she says, moving straight to the door without glancing my way again. “Ha “So, are you still coming with me or not?” She pauses at the door, back still to me, T-shirt still wet from her twists of hair. “Yeah,” I say, because she’s like a drug. I don’t know if I can make it through withdrawals. I don’t think I’ve ever been a passenger in Ha “You always have to drive, don’t you?” I glance up to catch her eyes, and I can tell she’s still ticked. One brow is higher than the other and her mouth is a straight line. “I might be a bit of a control freak about being behind the wheel, yeah. It’s your dad’s fault.” I pull the chest strap out and hold it with a stiff arm, elbow in my gut. It feels like it’s choking me. “My dad didn’t make you a control freak. He showed you how to work a manual and time the clutch. Your control issues are of your own making.” She slaps my arm aside and sends the safety belt back to its original snug position across my chest and neck. Why does it cut in there? I give her a polite laugh as I twist and inspect the harness buckle along the door frame. It doesn’t adjust. Great. I cough out a cat-like noise and turn back to face the front as Ha