“ARE WE NEARLY THERE?”
“Sweetheart, we’ve only been driving for an hour.”
An exaggerated groan comes from the passenger seat where Luna sits, pouting. “Seriously? Feels like forever.” Jackson removes a hand from the steering wheel and pats his impatient girlfriend’s thigh, lips twitching as she continues her complaints, “My legs weren’t made for long car rides.”
Nick and I both snort loudly from the backseat where we’re squished in with way too much luggage for a long weekend, most of which belongs to Lu. Although, I can’t really complain; there are worse things than being forced to snuggle with your boyfriend.
Slouched at an angle so he has a little more room to stretch his legs, Nick was quick to guide my head to his lap the moment we clambered into Jackson’s truck. Obviously, I had zero problems with that; with my feet tucked on the seat and his fingers threading through my hair evoking the occasional shiver, I’ve spent most of our road trip wafting in and out of consciousness. I intend on spending the rest of the drive in the same way, taking advantage of the opportunity for open affection before a weekend of scuttling around in hiding. And I do, my peaceful snoozing only occasionally interrupted by Luna and Jackson bickering like an old married couple. Or, more accurately, Luna bickering at Jackson.
Only when the light pouring in the window suddenly changes, catching me at the wrong angle and glaring through my eyelids, am I forced awake. Groaning quietly, I shift onto my back and use a hand to shield my eyes. I squint up at Nick, about to ask if we’re close to our destination, but the sight that greets me quite honestly takes my breath away.
Holy hell, he’s so annoyingly attractive.
He’s dozing too, eyes closed and his head tilted to the side, exposing that mouthwatering bone structure; no mortal man should have cheekbones and a jawline like that. The golden light he’s bathed in bounces off his head like a freaking halo; I swear the light always hits him right, no matter where we are. He and the sun are best freaking friends.
Unable to help myself, I reach up and trace that perfect jawline, savoring the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. I find myself wondering what he’ll look like in a decade or two—softer around the edges, maybe with a couple of grey hairs. Probably still as perfect, if his mom is anything to go by.
When my thumb brushes across a soft upper lip, teeth nip at the pad. Lazily, he cracks an eye open. “You’re staring.”
I shrug, captivated by his eyes glittering in the light. So pretty. “I’m allowed to.”
Nick shifts to kiss my palm, humming his agreement against my skin.
“You guys might want to tone it down a bit,” Jackson calls over his shoulder, the creak of the handbrake sounding as the truck rolls to a stop. “We’re here.”
A groan of contentment escapes all of us as we clamber outside, the loudest of which comes from Nick when he gets to stretch his poor, cramped legs. I’m readying to crack an old-man joke when I notice him staring straight ahead, brows raised and mouth slightly agape. Following his gaze, my expression immediately mimics his.
I’m not sure what I expected of our abode for the next few days. I’ve heard through the grapevine that Jackson’s grandparents are wealthy, and a spot right next to Big Bear Lake was inevitably going to be something special.
Special is an understatement. Abode is an understatement. Hell, house is an understatement. The building looming before us is a freaking castle. An enormous wooden structure dusted in snow, surrounded by trees, and looking like something you’d find within the pages of Architectural Digest. It doesn’t strike me as somewhere a bunch of twenty-year-olds should be allowed to stay unsupervised; I think us simply standing outside peering at it in awe is decreasing the value.
“Jesus Christ,” Nick mutters.
“My thoughts exactly,” I agree.
Shaking my head to clear the stupor, I sling my bag over my shoulder and warily approach the intimidating-as-hell mansion. I wave at the rest of our group gathered on the front porch that’s bigger than my entire apartment, faltering slightly when I notice the stragglers joining them. Crap. I almost forgot the baseball guys were joining us. They’re not staying in the house, thank God. They could definitely fit but I think they have slightly more nefarious intentions for this weekend so they rented a place down the street.
Each of them greets me with way too much enthusiasm considering the extent of our relationship involves me serving them beer and burgers—a pretty good foundation for any relationship but I have a hunch their friendliness is fueled by the beer on their breath.
When one sidles up to me, I internally cringe as recognition hits. “Good to see you again, Tiny,”
My face contorts slightly at the casual use of my nickname as if we’re best friends but I’m quick to smooth out my features. “Hey, Jay.”
Immediately, I wish I’d pretended to forget his name; he looks all too pleased by my remembering, and he really shouldn’t be. I suspect his satisfaction would fade all too quickly if he knew Luna comparing him to a vampire is the only reason his name stuck.
“Here,” Jay reaches out a hand, “let me take your bags.”
Before I can reply with a ‘no, thank you,’ a tattooed hand sneaks in my line of sight and snatches my bag away. “She’s good.”
Nick doesn’t spare me a glance; he’s firmly focused on staring down Jay in a silent challenge that only a fool wouldn’t recognize. God, we really are shit at being subtle.
Jay’s amiability slips for a millisecond before he catches it, slotting a smile in place before nodding and flitting off elsewhere.
Luckily, no one else noticed the interaction but I still throw an elbow at Nick. “Smooth.”
My sarcasm appears only to embolden him; one lid dipping in a lazy wink, he smacks my ass in a blatant display of possessiveness. “Wasn’t tryna be smooth.”
Oh, we are so not making it through this weekend unscathed.
“Was Cass dropped on his head as a child or something?” Luna hisses as she drags me inside, away from the men droning on about the party they’re throwing next door. One look at my girls proved we all felt the same about that; hard pass. “How the hell has he not copped on yet?”
On my other side, Kate snickers. “One too many baseballs to the skull, I think.”
“Maybe he should see an optician,” even Sydney chimes in. “Nick just groped you in plain sight and he didn’t see a thing.”
They’re joking and while Cass’ slightly worrying unobservance may be kind of funny, guilt still claws at my insides. “He trusts us,” is the real reason. He doesn’t think us capable of what’s such a betrayal in his eyes. Of lying to him and roping everyone else into lying too.
“I can’t believe you still haven’t told him,” Ben muses as he twirls around the unsurprisingly massive living room that bears resemblance to the kind of open-plane, sleek homes you see on MTV Cribs.
I’m so entranced by the luxurious interior, I don’t process my young friend’s words. It’s not until the girls’ shocked chortling seeps into my consciousness do I realize what the hell he just said. When I do, my jaw hits the exquisite hardwood floor. “Wait, you know?”
Ben’s laughter echoes around the high ceilings. “Oh, please. Being in the same room as you two is like watching porn. Of course, I know.”
Great. Terrific. Fan-freaking-tastic. Another person lying to Cass on my behalf.
Sensing my strife, Ben nudges Lu out of the way so he can wrap an arm around my shoulders. “Do you have a plan for telling him or…”
“Not really.” Every time I make one, the universe pulls a freaking Uno reverse card on me. I really, really wanted to tell him before this weekend. Despite everything that’s been going on, despite my relationship being the one perfect thing I have, I would’ve risked losing my little bubble of safety.
It was Nick’s decision to hide it a little longer. A decision born out of pity, I fear, but I was loathe to argue. He’s been different lately. Laidback and relaxed. Content. I catch him staring at me more than usual—which was already a lot—and often, he’ll start to say something and abruptly trail off, like he loses his nerve or something.
It’s odd but I’m not going to question it when I’m pretty sure after everything, he wants some peace. An absence of drama, for once. If that’s what he craves—and I’m not going to lie and say I don’t crave it too—then that’s what I’ll give him.
Ben’s hip knocking against mine drags me out of my thoughts. “You’re happy, Tiny. That’s all he’ll care about.”
A girl can only hope.
When the guys filter inside the house, I swiftly change the subject. “So, what’s the room situation?”
“Five bedrooms,” Jackson replies, and there’s a round of impressed whistles. “Take your pick.”
Predictably, Luna hurtles toward the grand staircase yelling dibs on the biggest room, hauling Jackson behind her. Kate and Sydney take off too—they’re rooming together, obviously. The arm around my shoulder shakes me vigorously, and my brewing stress about sleeping arrangements ebbs. “Guess we’re roomies,” Ben sings loudly, lowering his decibel as he mutters in my ear, “Although, we both know you won’t be sleeping in my bed.”
Cass is too busy clapping in delight to notice me thumping his teammate. “So Nick and I get a room each to ourselves.” My brother wriggles his brows. “Lucky us, hey?” When Nick fails to react with anything other than a sluggishly lifted shoulder, Cass slaps him on the chest, clearly mistaking his lack of enthusiasm for something akin to disappointment. “Don’t worry, man. I’m sure you can find someone to warm your bed.”
Mouth quirking into a smirk, golden eyes flicker to me for a split second. “I’m sure I can.”
“Pink or purple?” Luna muses aloud, holding up two bottles of nail polish to compare against her boyfriend’s tawny skin. It’s a rhetorical question; the latter is chosen before Jackson has a chance to answer. Setting her empty wine glass on the floor by her feet, she yanks his hand onto her lap, and I stifle a giggle as the man sits dutifully, wincing so often when Luna’s haphazard painting edges too close to the white sofas for comfort.
A wistful sigh flutters past my lips. While the rest of the boys headed next door for a drinking session, Jackson had a pretty, blonde excuse to stay, much to his girlfriend’s delight. I wasn’t so lucky; Nick was Cass’ prime target to whisk away and ‘nah, I wanna snuggle my girlfriend instead’ wasn’t a viable option for him. It’s fine though. Fifth wheeling for the night is totally fine. So fine that I’ve been eating my feelings, powering through the hefty Tupperware laden with brigadeiro Nick plopped on my lap with a wink before he left.
I chuck another fudgy, chocolatey ball of goodness in my mouth as Sydney scampers over from the floor-to-ceiling window she’s been gazing out of, watching the light snowfall as it sticks to the ground. “It’s so pretty here,” she sighs, joining Kate lounging on the sofa opposite me.
“Fucking freezing, though,” is Luna’s grumbled addition.
She’s not wrong but the picturesque scenery most definitely counteracts the cold. We went on a dinner procurement mission earlier, taking a stroll by the lake into town, and with the setting sun making the icy water shimmer and glinting off snow-dusted trees, it felt like we were in a snow globe. I feel like I did at Monterey, and not only because I was bundled up in so many layers, breathing was an issue. I felt calm and refreshed and peaceful and happy.
And with a full belly and a fire crackling in the ornate fireplace keeping me toasty, there is very little that could improve my evening. One thing, to be precise. One thing that makes a loud, clumsy appearance halfway through our second movie of night just when my eyes are beginning to drift shut.
Briefly, I can’t breathe. My sleep-addled brain, for some reason, is convinced I’m being smothered by a pillow. Blinking awake, it’s not until my eyes adjust to the dimly lit room that I realize there’s a big ass body crushing me. “What the hell?”
Nick pauses nuzzling my chest to flash me a goofy, lopsided grin that, breathing incapabilities aside, makes me freaking melt. “I missed you.”
I crane my neck to read the ridiculously lavish standing clock in the corner. “It’s only been a couple of hours.”
“Too long,” he huffs right in my face, and the reek of alcohol assaults my nostrils. Crinkling my nose, I inspect him carefully. Skin flushed, pupils ridiculously dilated, that wonky smile. Oh, yeah; he’s hammered. It’s a given, in my mind, but still I ask, unable to keep the teasing note from my tone, “Are you drunk?”
“It’s not my fault,” the man slurs with a whine. “Those guys are so fucking boring. Being dry as fuck must be a prerequisite to become a baseball player.”
Dual indignant yells echo around the room and remind me we’re not alone. Jackson brandishes a purple-tipped middle finger in our direction while Ben chucks a pillow at Nick, and consequently my, head. I don’t have time to be concerned about the whereabouts of the third player possibly in their midst; Nick murmurs in my ear, “He won’t be coming home tonight.”
Innuendo heard loud and clear, I’m caught between being relieved by his absence and disgusted at the cause.
An ice-cold nose nudges my cheek as equally freezing hands slip under my hoodie to graze my ribs, my squeal going entirely ignored as an insistent voice demands, “Beijos por favor, meu amor.”
Wriggling futilely beneath his icy grip, I play the clueless, monolingual card. “I don’t speak Portuguese.”
A noise between a growl and a whine rumbles in Nick’s chest, his—surprise surprise—cold forehead pressing hard against mine. “Me beije. Agora.”
Running my hands through his hair, I crook a brow. “If I kiss you, will you go to sleep?” My gut tells me it’s going to be a bribe-to-sleep kind of night.
“You sleeping in my bed?” At my nod, Nick beams. “Sim.”
A chaste brush of lips is what I offer but it’s not good enough for Nick. He dives in for more, swallowing my half-hearted protest, gripping the back of my neck to hold me in place as he peppers sloppy, drunk kisses all over my face until I’m squealing and giggling like a silly, besotted girl.
“Jesus Christ.” Someone, or possibly everyone, cackles. “And they’re surprised everyone knows.”
