Jury opened the door and poked his head inside. “Wanna do chicken wings and beer? Dad and Papa still aren’t home.” He blinked at me. “Movie?”
It wasn’t late enough to consider getting ready to go out, so I glanced at Flynn, who nodded. “Yeah, why not?”
We had a guys’ night with my brother—chilled, watched a couple of bad movies, and ate too much greasy food. It was all good, and around nine o’clock, Flynn and I went upstairs to change, while Jury pouted at us for not starting in on another bad eighties action movie. The dickhead needed to get his own man—or woman, or whoever—so he could stop trying to make me feel guilty.
Flynn stared at his bags on the floor in my room, and I felt bad.
“We can make space for your stuff in my closet and dresser tomorrow,” I promised, wrapping my arms around him.
He nodded absently. “Okay, but what should I wear?”
“Those tight gray sweatpants you used to tease me at the gym and a white T-shirt. No underwear.”
His eyebrows flew high at my fast answer and he glanced over his shoulder at me. “Are you sure? That’s it? Nothing...a little nicer? Or more risqué?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Flynn chuckled, and I nuzzled against the nape of his neck, pressing a kiss to the top of his spine. “Okay.”
I had tugged on a new pair of jeans and slipped a special tin in my back pocket when someone knocked on my bedroom door, and since my parents were out it could only be one person. Flynn was brushing his teeth, so I went over to the door and opened it.
“Yeah?”
Jury gave me his best smile, flashing every tooth he owned. “Iton, Hill, and Gibson are going downtown. Wanna come?”
“No, we have plans,” I said as Flynn came out into the bedroom. He looked good and I wanted to rip his clothes off his body.
“What kind?” Jury asked in a tone damned close to a whine. “Maybe I would rather come with you.”
Flynn coughed until I patted his back, and when I did, he grinned at me. “I don’t think you shouldcomewith us,” he said, low enough that Jury had to lean closer to hear, and then it was me who was laughing.
“Where are you going? Tell me.” Jury widened his green eyes at Flynn, and Flynn shook his head, although I could see him struggling to do it.
I smacked Jury. “Don’t, it isn’t your business.”
“It’s okay, I’m not embarrassed.”
I tickled my fingers over the back of Flynn’s neck. “Fine.” I winked at Flynn. “Triple X, I have a membership.”
“How?” Flynn asked sharply.
“Cash and persistence.”
Flynn rolled his eyes. “Of course.”
I gave his neck a light squeeze. “That tone will get you in all sorts of trouble.”
Jury’s eyes widened—I’d never told him about the times I’d been to Triple X in the past because we didn’t share every single detail of our lives. “Can I go with you? I’ve heard about it.” His cheeks exploded into a shade of pink I hoped to never see in the mirror.
“Not tonight.”
“But—”
“Not tonight,” I growled out at him.
“Fine. Fucker.” Jury shoved me, so of course I shoved him back, and we scuffled for a minute, and somehow our screwing around spilled out into the hallway until we thumped into a wall with a laugh.
“Boys!” Papa’s voice traveled up the stairs, and we jumped apart. “I thought you would grow out of this someday!”
