“Oh, really?” Max’s voice cuts through my thoughts. My gaze shifts to him, but quickly he shifts his gaze to Alexa, who appears nonchalant while studying her nails. “So classy, so typically you.”
I brush off his jab easily, like a snake shedding its skin. I could give two fucks what he thought of me.
“Gotta live your life, Maxy boy,” I reply coolly. Alexa wraps her arms around me from behind as if on cue and leans into my back—like Max here, she’s staking her claim.
“Why don’t we head inside?” Max suggests, still keeping his watchful gaze on me as he guides Ronnie towards the entrance of the bar. We follow suit and enter, the tension between us still palpable. Inside, the heavy scent of alcohol, cigarettes, and cheap perfume fills the air. Max wraps his arm around Ronnie’s shoulder. My eyes follow each sway of her hips as Max leads her to the booth in the far corner. He stops at a black booth, a bucket of Bud Lights on ice placed in the middle of the table.
Alexa snorts in disgust as we take a seat at the opposite end of the booth, giving us a clear view of the bustling room. I lean back against the soft leather booth, casually draping an arm around Blondie’s shoulders while keeping my eyes locked on their huddled conversation.I wonder what he’s saying?
Alexa doesn’t miss my intense focus on her. I swear this woman seriously has a sixth sense or some shit. Or maybe I’m that painfully obvious. “Seriously, Iz? Can you try to hide it a little?” she snaps as she slips onto my lap..
“Be careful, love,” I retort with a smirk, loosely wrapping my free hand around her neck. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.” A glare is her only response to me before she turns her attention to Ronnie. Bryce Savage’s song “Curiosity” plays from the speakers above.
“Come on, Ronnie, let’s dance! I love this song,” Alexa exclaims as she reaches for her best friend's hand. “And I could use a drink that’s stronger than a beer,” she adds with a grimace.
“Fine,” Ronnie replies. Alexa rises from my lap, fixing her pink dress when she stands. Hand in hand, both girls slide out of the booth. I roll the tension from my neck as I watch them head towards the small dance floor. Before shifting my attention over to the bucket of beers sitting on our table, trying to distract myself by keeping my eyes busy.
Reaching over, I grab a Bud Light bottle, screw the top off, and take a sip.Fuck this is nasty. I’m not a beer kind of guy. I just need something to take the edge off. Trying to calm the thirst, but it’s no use; my gaze keeps wandering. Her black hair is straight today and parted down the middle, the bottom red streaks falling past her breasts. Her blue jeans cling to her curves while strategically placed rips show off bits of her golden skin. Her black shirt leaves little to the imagination, making my mouth water as I imagine kissing and teasing her bare breasts. My cock thickens, and I know I should focus on something else before Max notices that I’m hard.
I lean back, stretching my legs out as I watch the two of them stop at the bar. Ronnie leans against the counter, her plump ass on full display, and I can’t help but drink in the sight. How perfect her body is, how much I desire to bury my tongue in her wet pussy. How desperately needy and hungry I am for someone I can’t have.
My jaw muscles go taut as her ass moves from side to side, dancing to the rhythm of the music. I open and close my hands, keeping them busy and away from my aching dick. Max must have noticed my reaction, too, because his glare melts into the side of my face, but I don’t care. He doesn’t matter to me. Shamelessly, I continue to look at them as they get their drinks, stopping to dance. Their hips sway to the music, and Ronnie’s left arm goes above her head, her head moving from side to side. Blondie does the same, and they vibe while I watch. The women continue to dance while Max tries to make small talk, but my mind is elsewhere, lost in her.
Then he drops a bombshell that snaps me out of my trance. “I’m proposing to her.”
My heart pounds in my chest as I freeze mid-reach for a beer bottle, clenching my fist instead. His words don't take me by surprise. My dad already filled me in about him asking for her hand in marriage. He has another thing coming if he thinks he will. Like hell he is. He’s not marrying her. No way.
“What?” I ask feigning that I didn’t hear him.
“I’m proposing to Vero,” Max repeats, smugness evident in his expression as he pulls out a small velvet box from his pocket. “Well, technically, I already did. I just haven’t given her the ring yet.”
A cold numbness spreads, hearing him talk about his engagement, like he’s planning on making me one of the groomsmen. My heart aches at the thought of our last names not being the same. Veronica was always destined to be a Vargas. I mean, she technically is, thanks to my father, but fuck. I never saw her as a fucking Donavan.
“You asked her?” I ask, pretending I wasn’t aware of anything. “What did she say?”
“She didn’t say no,” Max shrugs, avoiding my gaze. “But she didn’t exactly say yes either.” He opens the velvet box to reveal a beautiful silver band adorned with a sparkling blue diamond. It is exactly like her. Beautiful and unattainable. I force myself to play the role she has forced me to take on—that of a brother. “Congratulations,” I manage to choke out, because what else am I supposed to say? You can’t marry her because she’s mine, and I’ll kill you before you take her away from me.
So, I pretend.
“Thank you. I’ve talked to everyone except you, but I figured you should know,” Max says with a triumphant smirk before pocketing the ring again, a glimmer of possessive satisfaction dancing in his eyes.
I turn away, unable to look at him. She has made her choice, and it isn’t me. So, I pretend, for her sake and mine. And it kills me inside. Max gives a signal to the bottle girl and then turns to me. “We should get another round,” he suggests. I chug the rest of my beer, trying to numb the fire that’s burning inside me.
“Sure,” I reply half-heartedly, unable to take my eyes off Ronnie as she moves gracefully under the colorful lights, her skin glistening from the thin coat of sweat that now layers her skin. I ache to lick it… to use my tongue and taste the saltiness of her skin. To feel the heat radiating off her as she sways to the music, completely oblivious to my turmoil.
When the song finishes, they head back towards us, Alexa taking another sip of her go-to drink, a thin mint martini, while Ronnie sips on her usual Jack and Coke.
They slide back into the booth, a blithe laugh escaping Ronnie’s painted lips as she recounts a joke to Alexa. The sight brings joy to my heart, it’s been awhile that I’ve seen them truly enjoying each other’s company without any underlying resentment. Max is quick to pull Ronnie to his side, shooting me a smirk that makes me want to punch him in the face.
I keep my feelings in check because if not, I’m afraid I’ll kill him.
“Another drink, ladies?” Max asks, motioning to the waitress to come to our table. Ronnie playfully rolls her eyes at him, before her attention shifts to me. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but nothing comes out. Alexa wraps her arms around my neck.
“I can’t wait to fuck you tonight,” she purrs against my ear, but fucking is the last thing I want to do. At least not with her. I shrug her arms off my neck.
“Not in the mood,” I say, trying to mask my irritation, faking a smile, and asking, “Do you want another martini?”
“Yes, please,” Alexa grits out as her arms fall to her side. She flops onto the space next to me, letting out a giggle, her cheeks flushed from the dance and alcohol. I roll my neck, annoyed with her, with him, and, fuck, even with Ronnie. Alexa leans into me slightly, but my attention is elsewhere. Anger flashes across her face when she notices my eyes on Ronnie, who is cooling herself with a cocktail napkin, her eyes closed as if she is imagining herself somewhere else.
