“Lucky bastard,” he said, shaking his head.
I couldn’t help but smirk as I gripped my beer and glanced into the crowd to find you again before making my way over to where my brothers and the other guys converged.
I hung out with the small group for a while. Tyler and Greg, friends of Billy’s made me laugh and reminded me a lot of Jameson. I was glad he had made some good friends that seemed more level headed than him.
“I think that girl’s stalking you,” Greg said, inclining his head.
I glanced over and saw a girl in a silver dress, it was the dark haired girl that had hit on me at the bar. “She’s all yours,” I said, turning so my back faced her.
“So you and your girl are pretty serious, huh?”
I looked at Greg and raised my eyebrows, as I took a drink to gauge where his question derived from: interest in you, pure curiosity, or interest in the brunette possibly?
“Yeah, I don’t plan on fucking things up. Especially not with another chick.”
“Hey, boys, you see my woman around?” I looked over to see Trent nearing us and felt my jaw tense. Do you remember Trent, Kiefer’s older brother? They’re both douchebags, so I hope you don’t.
“I haven’t seen them in a while, but I’m sure they’re out there shaking their asses,” Billy said, coming up behind Trent with Hank flanking him.
“Come on, Millers, let’s go see what kind of trouble they’re causing.” Hank wrapped an arm around mine and Billy’s shoulders and we headed to the dance floor.
My eyes scanned the crowded bar. It was dark and the purple lights bouncing off every surface provided little illumination the further we get from the bar.
“What the fuck?”
I turned and watched Billy push his way through the crowd, making my eyes scan over the crowds in the direction he was headed. I saw Molly dancing with a couple of men and one of her bridesmaids. The back of her dress had slid up so high I wouldn’t doubt that the guy was seeing some cheekage, or more like feeling it, since his hands were the reason that it was up so high.
Hank shook his head as we watched Billy push the guy away. “Hell on wheels,” he repeated. “What about you? Any wedding bells in your future?” I could tell by the grin on his face that he was trying to be a dick, but this was probably the hundredth time that someone mentioned marriage to me and the word had been creeping into my thoughts far more than I’d ever care to admit.
He started moving forward, further proof that he was just giving me a hard time, and I tried to shove the thoughts away as we approached you and Sarah, dancing together with a couple of my cousins’ wives and a bridesmaid.
The wedding was simple, walking a fine line between being casual and trashy. Most of my family looked out of place and overdressed in suits and dresses, while Molly’s side wore mostly Wranglers with thick circle patterns worn into their back pockets and massive amounts of plaid shirts. Grandma Miller was ready to raise hell and start tossing people out of the church when she saw a large group of men sitting together, all wearing their cowboy hats. I could see her and knew the tangent she was silently cursing them with, educating them on how you’re supposed to dress nice when you go to someone’s house, let alone God’s house. My brothers and I had been on the receiving end of that speech one too many times. My mom and Uncle Lenny sensed it too because they each reached out and held her hands tightly in their own. She didn’t argue but looked contemptuous each time she braved a glance across the aisle.
As the day progressed, so did my stress. Every time I turned around, someone was there to ask me about when I was going to propose? How? Had I picked a ring? Would it be in California? How many children did we want? Thank God most of them had at least enough sense to not ask me while you were around, because the times that occurred only made the situation that much more awkward. By the time the night was over, I felt tense and agitated with questions that I didn’t have answers to, swirling through my brain.
We ended up back at the hotel room where I took a shower, hoping the time to myself and hot water would calm me down.
You were in bed when I opened the bathroom door, your dress was still on, but your hair was wavy from being up all day. I should have kept my mouth shut. I don’t know why I didn’t just kiss you and tell you I was exhausted and go to bed. There are a lot of should haves these days, and like the rest, this one is answered with, I didn’t.
“What are you reading?” Seeking the comfort you bestowed upon me so easily, I stretched my body against yours. For the first time, it didn’t dull all of the restlessness I was fighting with.
I hadn’t foreseen receiving all of those questions when I asked you to come, and I was contemplating if I was regretting asking you. I had no idea how to handle any of them, because as much as we talked and as much as I knew you cared about me, I had concerns about the large topics we never brought up. Like why I allowed all of the rumors about my “overactive sex life” from high school, or the fact that you dated nearly half of the student body yet never slept with any of them. Those questions suddenly made the air seem heavy.
“I’m reading a book about two crazy people having a very carnal, sexual relationship.” You lifted the book to show me a nearly naked couple on the cover. “Your aunt Louise heard I like to read, and would really like to discuss it with me.” Your lips folded in as you pressed them together.
When I didn’t give a reaction your eyes grew. “Discussing this book with her is going to require some kind of therapy! Read this!” You swung the book toward me and stabbed the page. I looked up to see your eyes focused on mine, waiting for me to actually read it.
My eyes quickly scanned over the words and then I looked back to you, feeling the first traces of humor of the night. “You can’t talk to my aunt about this!”
“I know, right?”
“I mean this book is practically written about us! Hot sexy guy with rippling muscles taking the young, very beautiful girl to his bed and fucking her brains out. This is so us!”
You closed the book and hit me with it, making me laugh. “I’m serious! I’m going to be mortified!”
“I’m serious too,” I insisted.
You dropped the book and quietly sighed before you looked over to me. Your face was full of inquisition, and I felt my smile fade and my muscles tighten. I could tell you were about to ask me a question and I prayed it wasn’t along the same line of questions my mind had been thinking of. The last thing I wanted to discuss was our pasts with how I was already feeling.
“Do you think someone can fall in love with another person in a three-day period when they’ve only been around said person for like five hours?”
That route of conversation didn’t offer relief. The L-word hadn’t been used up to that point in our relationship, and averting the question seemed dangerous. I’d come within nano-seconds of saying it to you numerous times, and somehow the word seemed to stumble and trip as it attempted to roll off my tongue. I wasn’t sure if I should just casually drop it into conversation, or say it before going to bed, or if I was supposed to say it following a big romantic gesture? I was in new territory with all of those feelings, and confirming them aloud made it even more real.
My attention had drifted to the wall with my thoughts, and when I returned it to you, you were staring back at me, your brown eyes wide with patience and thought. I wondered how many other guys had professed their love for you, and the thought made my muscles convulse again.
“I don’t know, maybe?” I clipped.
“I don’t think you can. I mean you might be in love with the idea of loving that person, or possibly even feel the beginning of love because you’re really attracted and click well, but full-on love? I don’t know, maybe it’s just that this book makes sex sound like something we’re doing because we’re animals, rather than choosing who we have sex with, and doing it because you care deeply for that person.”