“Oh yeah,” Josh chokes out between snorts.
“I didn’t…fuck.”
My brother is tickling balls.
“As you can see,” Hendrix says, completely unfazed, “we’ve moved to 3D modelling in all the simulations. Men can…”
I spin on my heel, frantically scanning for the exit. There are only a few moments in my life I’ve wanted to permanently erase from my memory: the day my grandmother died, my entire relationship with Brad, and now, the night my brother tickled fake balls on a screen in front of me.
You know, the usual kind of traumas.
I make a beeline for the bar, catching sight of my other brothers heading in the same direction.
Joe lifts his chin in greeting as I approach.
“Dear God,” Thom mutters, slumping heavily against the makeshift bar and flagging down the bartender. “That was…”
“Horrifying?” I offer, leaning on the counter.
“I think we can all agree that Satan won today,” Joe agrees, pulling out his wallet.
George, or Joe as we all call him, is the younger of the twins by three minutes. He carries himself with a calm, serious demeanour that makes him seem older than he actually is. His square jaw and sharp, clean-shaven features mimic those of all my brother’s and my dad, but on him they offer an air of quiet authority, even when he isn’t trying. Always impeccably dressed, Joe has the kind of presence that draws people in without effort, his piercing blue eyes sharp and calculating.
Ordinarily, he’s the dependable one, the one who keeps calm when the world is falling apart, which is why he’s often mistaken for the more mature of the twins. But catch him in a moment of dry humor—usually at someone else’s expense—and you’ll see the wicked glint in his eyes that reminds you just how sharp his wit can be.
Which is why it’s amusing—and slightly terrifying—to seem him so discombobulated.
Thomas, Thom, on the other hand, is chaos wrapped in charm. His hair is always slightly tousled, as though he just rolled out of bed, and his perpetual five o’clock shadow gives him a roguish edge. Where Joe is polished, Thom is relaxed, often dressed like he’s heading to a backyard barbecue rather than a formal event. His blue eyes, identical to Joe’s, are full of mischief, and his crooked grin has a knack for getting him out of trouble—or into it, depending on the day. Thom’s the one who can turn any room into a party, the life of the gathering who always has a joke or a story ready to go.
He also happens to be the more dramatic of my brothers.
“Anyone know a hypnotist?” he asks, scrubbing at his eyes. “I need the last hour purged from my brain.”
Joe orders us hard liquor, as Josh chuckles. We ignore him, united in our sibling outrage.
The bartender slides three neat whiskeys in front of us.
“Here’s to gouging our eyes out later tonight,” Thom says, raising his glass.
I wrinkle my nose at the choice of alcohol, but desperate times call for desperate measures. We clink glasses and drink deep, the burn of the whiskey doing absolutely nothing to erase the mental image of Hendrix’s demonstration.
Josh leans casually against the bar, grinning at our collective misery. “You know this is going to make it into a movie, right?”
“No, it won’t,” I say firmly. “Sam will have our back.”
“You sure about that?” Josh chuckles, his tone dripping with amusement. “He’s going to freak when I tell him about this.”
I shoot him a side-eye glare. “What do we need to do to make this go away?”
Josh shifts closer, his grin fading into something much more deliberate. His gaze drops to my red heels, and then slowly—so slowly—I feel his eyes travel up my legs, lingering, then moving over my dress.
I changed in the work toilets after my last class into an old, but still functional and stylish crimson dress I bought years ago. It’s nothing new or special. But the way his eyes trail up my body makes me feel beautiful. No—more than that.
Sexy.
My breath hitches as Josh crosses his arms, propping one hand on the other, his thumb lazily grazing his bottom lip. His gaze lingers on my mouth, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips before his eyes finally meet mine.
Heat pools in my belly, and my nipples prickle under the intensity of his stare. Josh hasneverlooked at me like this before—like I’m a snack he’s been starving for. But with that one hungry, deliberate look, I suddenly understand the devastation he must leave behind with his exes.
