When the uneasy yet confident side of her personality shone bright.
I thought she was so fucking beautiful.
So funny.
So charming.
So real.
And then I found out how smart she was, how she had all the same likes and interests as I did. Throughout that night as we played Scrabble, I kept thinking I was going to ask her out when all was said and done, but then . . . she asked to be friends. Sheneededto find a friend. Instead of acting on my initial reaction, I pushed it away, only for it to perform a full-frontal attack on me when I was least expecting it.
Right now.
In this fucking moment.
She turns back toward the mirror, and I catch her gaze finding mine in the reflection. “Should I show her?” she asks, her voice laced with insecurity. “I don’t want her to hate it.”
“I don’t care what she says. We’re getting that dress,” I say, my voice coming out more breathless than I want it to.
“But it’s the first one. Isn’t that a bad sign? Shouldn’t I try on more?”
I shake my head. “No, sometimes, you just know.” I wet my lips. “And this dress, Lia, this one is for you.”
She shyly smiles and then turns around again and walks up to me. I watch her every step, my body stiffening with every inch she nears. And as she presses her hand to my chest, my stomach bottoms out, and my legs tremble beneath me. “Thank you for being here, Breaker. I don’t think you will ever know how much this means to me.”
“No, uh, problem,” I say, swallowing again.
She stands on her toes and presses the lightest of kisses to my cheek. Even though it means nothing other than friendship to Lia, to me, it feels like she just branded me and marked me as hers for eternity.
And then, without another word, she opens the door and shows The Beave her dress, leaving me in a state of upheaval.
What the fuck just happened?
* * *
Breaker:Hey, do you think you could meet me for a cup of coffee in like ten minutes or sooner or whenever? I just need to talk, and I don’t want to talk to my brothers because they’re going to give me shit. I need someone neutral.
Banner:Color me intrigued. Want to come over to my place? Just in case you need privacy?
Breaker:That would be perfect. I’m driving over now.
Hands on the steering wheel, I keep my eyes on the road as I work my way across town to Banner’s apartment, which is just ten minutes away from where I live.
I met Banner through Ryot Bisley, his brother. Ryot and Banner both came up with this great idea called The Jock Report—a social media conglomerate for everything sports where the athletes get to talk to their fans one-on-one. When Ryot told JP and Huxley about the idea, they immediately wanted to invest because they knew it was going to be huge. And it has been. Ryot and Banner, who were living in Chicago at the time—Ryot is a retired third baseman from the Chicago Bobbies—moved out here to California, where they opened an office and have quickly taken the sports world by storm.
I got to know Banner on a more personal level and realized we’re pretty similar. Although he is a bit of a player, whereas I, apparently, haven’t needed to play around. But we do both like computers and have built our own. We also determined that our brothers like to gang up on us whenever they get the chance, so we’ve formed a younger-brother alliance. Talking to him about what’s on my mind will be perfect because he knows what the wrath of an older brother can do to you.
I turn right onto his street and then see an open parking spot right in front of his apartment building. Must be my lucky day—if that’s what you want to call it.
Once parked, I hop out of my car, lock up, and head straight to his apartment. I hate showing up empty-handed, but when it’s last minute, there’s not much I can do about that.
When I reach his apartment, I give it a knock, and I hear him call out, “It’s open.”
Pushing through his front door, I spot him in the kitchen with two bottles of beer in hand. “Sounded like a beer kind of moment, am I right?”
“Really fucking right,” I reply.
He nods toward his balcony. “Let’s sit outside.”
