This side of Jared was so unexpected, this boy who smiled so effortlessly, as if for the moment his pain had been suspended and he’d been granted a reprieve. I wondered if he noticed the stirring of joy I witnessed in his eyes or if he was so conditioned he could only recognize the bleakness glutting his heart and mind.
I had the overwhelming urge to approach him from behind, and I thought that was surprising, too. I wanted to run my hand up his back and feel his strength as it rippled and bunched beneath the cover of his shirt, to be intimately reminded of what we had shared last night. I was different with him. Better and worse, too confident and incredibly naive. Jared made me desire things I’d never desired before. It confused me, left me both vacant and filled. Almost complete.
Jared frowned at me as if he’d caught the perplexity of my thoughts. Self-conscious, I dropped my gaze and distracted myself by chalking my cue stick. The band struck up, lifting the din in the bar to deafening levels. Christopher returned with the beers and my soda.
“Here you go, man.”
“Thanks.” Jared accepted his, flicked off the cap, and tipped it in Christopher’s direction before he took a long swig. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
“I’ll sit out the first game,” I offered as I leaned up against the wall, sipping my Coke from a straw, “but I play winner.”
Christopher grabbed his cue and grinned. “Well, sounds like you’ll be playing me, then, little sister.”
Taunting laughter fell from Jared’s mouth, his blue eyes gleaming with mirth. “Ah, feeling pretty sure of yourself there, huh, Christopher? I’d say we need to put a little wager on this.” He pulled a twenty out of his wallet and slapped it on the table.
“Oh, you’re on.” Christopher dug out his wallet.
They picked up their play while I hovered near. We laughed and the guys drank. Jared was good, but so was Christopher. The two of them battled in this constant harassment, flippantly slinging low-blow gibes and sordid insults at each other that neither took to heart.
By the end of the game, Christopher was tucking Jared’s twenty in his pocket, all too happy to rub it in. “Jared, will you ever learn? You should know I always end up coming out on top.”
Jared leaned up against the wall with an easy grin as I stepped in for my game. How good would it feel to claim him openly, this beautiful boy, to stroll up to him, lift up on my toes to brush my lips across his? For a fleeting second I wondered how he’d react, how Christopher would react.
I glanced at Christopher, his black hair unruly and his green eyes sharp. Without a doubt, that would be a really bad idea.
I shook off the thoughts and feigned confidence as I sauntered up to my brother. “You’re in so much trouble now,” I said, tipping my chin up in mock challenge. I held back laughter that threatened to work its way free. The only time I’d ever beaten Christopher was the one time he let me.
He quirked an amused eyebrow and his green eyes sparkled. “Really?”
“Really,” I said with a resolute nod.
It took him about five seconds to annihilate me.
Jared dragged a high barstool over and set it up near the wall for me. “Here, hop up here so you can see better while I kick your brother’s ass in this next game.” His smile was loose as he gestured for me to sit. He reached out to help me climb onto the chair. And I assumed it was the few beers he’d already consumed that had lowered his walls, because his touch was gentle and lingered a beat too long. His hand gripped at my side and his thumb caressed along one of my ribs.
That simple display of affection quickened my heart. Because with him, I wanted it all. There was no disguising my yearning as I looked up at him, his eyes so soft as they looked down on me. I watched as he swallowed, the heavy bob of his throat; then reluctantly he turned back to Christopher. “All right, my friend, time for me to show you how it’s really done.”
Another hour passed, and I sat on the stool slowly swinging my legs, watching the two of them. I’d fully bailed out of the good-natured contention three games before, saying I’d been humiliated enough for one night. Christopher won another game while Jared won two. They drank a few more beers, their laugher and jests increasing, their banter so much like it used to be. A hum of satisfaction pulsed into every crevice of my being.
Jared had stayed and I thought maybe he was happy.
Christopher was obviously having a really good time. Probably a little too much of a good time, as his jests started verging on the edge of obnoxious. It only made me laugh. With his bottle lifted high, he polished off what had to have been his seventh beer of the night. He slammed the bottle down on the small table before he leaned in to attempt a ridiculous jump shot. He fumbled and knocked the cue ball into the side pocket.
“Ah, shit,” he yelled through his raucous laughter as he stumbled back. He knocked into a guy trying to take a shot at the table behind him. Christopher jerked around, stretched out a hand to steady the guy he’d run into. A casual apology rolled naturally from his mouth. “Hey, sorry, man.” Christopher’s grin was wide.
But the other guy was furious. His hand fisted on his cue stick, aggressive as he sneered. “What the fuck, you little prick?”
He was shorter than Christopher, but wider, older, rougher. His head was shaved or bald, I couldn’t tell. I could almost read his thoughts in his too dark eyes, the flame of aggression as he made the decision to mess with my brother. The guy liked it. Hostility dripped from his body, and he took one antagonistic step forward.
My heart pounded and my hands clenched around the seat of the stool. I hated fighting, hated when nights meant to spend unwinding turned into bad memories because sick people would rather hurt someone than let them be.
Lifting both palms, Christopher took a step back. Realization had sobered his face. This time his smile was obviously forced as he aimed to temper the situation. “Hey, man, I said I was sorry. No harm intended.”
Christopher usually got along with everyone. He was one of those people everybody wanted to hang out with. He had this charm about him that drew in the masses. He knew it, too, used it to his advantage to lure in his prey or to calm a charged situation. I’d only seen him fight a couple of times, always out of necessity, when there was no other choice. And Christopher could hold his own, no question about it. But against this guy? I wasn’t so sure.
I eased off the stool and found my footing. I slipped up behind Christopher, intent on pulling him away. None of us needed to deal with this tonight, and I just wanted to go home. Where it was safe.
“Christopher,” I said quietly as I slowly approached him, hoping to get his attention so we could get out of there.
Jared’s mouth was suddenly hot at my cheek, his large hand splayed against the opposite side of my face as he firmly held my head, demanding my attention. He uttered a low warning in my ear. “Get back, Aly. I don’t want you anywhere near this asshole.”
Then he nudged me behind him, his arm extended back to keep me at bay. He crept forward to take up Christopher’s side. A clear declaration of alliance. Jared rolled his shoulders, this checked energy vibrating through his being. His hands clenched and curled, aggression coiling through the muscles of his arms that rippled and bunched under the colors marking his skin.
Fear turned my stomach. Fear of the guy staring down my brother, staring down Jared, fear at the violence skimming along the surface of Jared’s skin, itching to be released. I could feel it, this fierce rage that emanated from Jared’s spirit, like something dark had been unleashed and set free.
I turned my concentration from Christopher to Jared, sensing where the real danger lay. I placed an urgent hand on his upper back. “Jared, please, let’s just go,” I begged, so quietly I wasn’t sure either of them could hear, their focus entirely on the guy who cracked a menacing grin.