Survival skills engaged.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m leaning on the bar, burning up every last bit of energy trying to look like the picture of nonchalance while Nick makes it his mission to set me on fire with his piercing glare.
It’s all about who can hold out under the cloud of silent judgement the longest. Something we both excel at considering our families, but his loud as fuck silence is ruining our Pappy’s tradition.
"For fuck's sake, stop looking at me like that." I down half my drink in one go, savoring the burn. "Your face might stick that way and when my sister kick’s your ass to the curb, then what will you do?"
"Nice deflection." Nick's eyes narrow. "You want to explain that photo you sent me this morning?"
"Which one? The eggplant emoji parade or?—"
"You know damn well which one." He sets his drink down with more force than necessary. "The one of my sister looking thoroughly debauched in your shirt."
My mind flashes to Holly in my flannel, all soft curves and sleepy eyes.
Yup, not helping the boner status one fucking bit.
"Debauched?" I snort. "Next thing you’re going to accuse me of knowing the color of her knickers."
I happen to know, but let’s not split hairs.
"Deflecting. Again."
Goddamn right I am.
I’m hoping to hold out to the second Pappy’s. Drown my bone in a little 90 proof because it’s impolite to point. Especially when it’s at your best friend—mid interrogation.
Just call me Mr. Goddamn Manners.
He jams a hand through his hair, and I remember doing the same a few hundred times when he and Charlie played out through text while I was half a world away.
"Just tell me you didn't sleep with her."
The weight of her secrets sits heavy in my chest.
Holly tracing my features in the dark.
Holly whispering her fears to my supposedly sleeping form.
The trust in those moments means more than any physical contact could.
No, Nick… I didn’t fuck your sister. But with her every lingering touch in the dark when she thought I was sleeping… she fucked me. Really fucked me.
Didn’t sleep with her.
“You saw the picture, the room only had one bed.” Okay, low blow, but I’m not ready to have this conversation. Not after spending half the night keeping myself awake so I could hold her hand longer.
“Answer the fucking question, McAllister.”
Every cell goes still at his tone. Thirty years of friendship with Nick sitting like lead in my gut.
"Do you see stretch marks around her lips?”
I take way too much pleasure in the way his mouth goes slack.
“Is she walking funny?”
And now hangs open.
