Had we fallen into some weird fifth dimension where she could hear my thoughts?
She wasn’t serious—of course, she wasn’t. Under normal circumstances, she’d regret those words, but we were two bottles of wine in, and our brains lacked basic reasoning.
Over the last bottle, before dinner was delivered, she’d dissected the last date, and now, it was difficult to argue when her hand had snuck underneath my shirt. A deep sigh and a low snort followed her sentiment as I tried to lighten the mood.
Now was not the time—as if there would ever be one.
“Please, babe. Who says I’d accept your proposal?”
Her head lifted from my shoulder, and I smiled, watching as she arched an eyebrow, looking unimpressed with my answer. I cracked first, holding my hands up in surrender and laughing. She followed a second later, giggling and removing her hand from my stomach to grab her wineglass from the coffee table.
Even suggesting us together was hypothetical and a direct result of the high alcohol content of the sweet rosé she had chilled in the fridge, right?
She’d eventually find someone to settle down with, and I’d become the cool uncle of all the kids my brothers would have. Perhaps I should get a motorcycle and leather jacket—you know, to really drive the point home.
My friendship with Emma filled the holes that Mark and Magnum left behind after finding the people they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with. She always pushed me—and my buttons—at every opportunity. And even though we’d beenfriends for more than a decade, we’d never crossed the unspoken lines drawn between us.
I swirled the blush wine, watching as it fell down the inside of the glass, remembering one such altercation that moved our relationship right out of the friend zone and straight into the friends who sometimes fuck zone.
“How dare you deny my perfectly reasonable request? I am distraught. The core aspects of my personality have been called into question and, as my best friend, you should always be supportive.”
Best friend. Right.Remember that, dumbass. Don’t fuck up a good thing.
“Please. You could do so much better than me, and you know it. Quit having a crisis because some twat doesn’t see you for the fantastic person you are. In fact, you should feel confident because he immediately wanted to bone you.”
“Don’t say bone,” she huffed, grabbing my wine and finishing the last sip. I rolled my eyes, pinching her side as she set my empty glass next to hers.
“Fuck. He wanted to fuck you.”
“Eww.”
“Yes. Agreed, but far be it for me to not be supportive, like you said.”
“Blah. Blah. Blah. I have to stop drinking so much. Any more bad dates, and I’ll turn into a lush.”
“Is that something I need to be supportive of as well?” I joked, hissing out a breath as she slugged me in the stomach.
“Shut it. It just occurred to me that maybe we should, I don’t know, go for a jog or something. As much as I love your company, maybe we need to expand our horizons from the couch.”
“Didn’t you drag me to a movie last week? Some cheesy romantic comedy starring a guy who wore skinny jeans,” I said,leaning forward and stretching my neck. Her nimble fingers caressed the aching area, and I groaned, tilting my body toward her as she worked.
“Yes, but that was only because you took me to that drag race the week before, where your brother scowled the entire time and refused to take a hayride.”
“I’d forgotten about that,” I said, hissing as her fingers dug into a tendon that was particularly tight. “You can’t blame Maverick for being salty. Mom is so thrilled Mark and Magnum are in happy relationships, she’s got the bug to set up me and Maverick.”
“Oh, my. That makes sense.”
“Oh, my is right. Wait? What now?” I asked, sitting back on the couch and tugging her bare feet into my lap. She wiggled her toes as I ran my knuckles along the arch, watching her lay her head back and moan.
One arm covered her eyes, and she sighed. This breathy, sexy noise that went straight to my cock. I covertly shifted on the plush cushions, attempting to relieve the ache as I massaged her feet.
“Still waiting,” I prompted, not stopping my ministrations as she moved her arm and cracked one eye open.
“Just something your mom said. At her party.”
“Ah.”
Just from her tone, I knew what Mom had mentioned. If my brothers had a message thread about me and Emma, one guess who orchestrated the entire conversation.
