I crave her.
Every part of her.
“The way she looks at you, it’s not one-sided. I think she’s crazy about you, Pretty Boy.”
“I hope so, because I’m so gone for her,” I admit.
“What have you got planned for your date tonight?” Brax asks.
“With the away series coming up, I want her all to myself, so we’re staying in. Erin doesn’t want to get dressed up and go to a fancy dinner at a restaurant you have to book three months in advance to get a table at. She’s the kind of girl who wants to go to a kid’s birthday party, eat tacos, change into loungewear when she gets home, and feast on an endless supply of nachos and dips throughout the night. She wants a fire burning in the background andTeenage Mutant Ninja Turtleson the screen—because it reminds me of my childhood. And I just want her, and I can’t think of a better way to spend my night.”
Brax claps me on the back before heading over to his son, who’s calling him over. Erin hugs Brax, and my eyes shine at how open she’s become around my people and just how much they love her.
Ten minutes later, Erin is consoling a pouty Rudy after his epic sack race disaster. He ripped straight through the bottom and tripped up mid-race, disqualifying himself. The kids are howling with laughter, and Erin presses her lips together to fight her own from bubbling out of her.
When Rudy sticks his tongue out, it finishes her off and she doubles over. Rudy glares at her and then takes off running. She bolts after her brother, launching at his back while trying to apologize through her fits of giggles.
Rudy grins, flips her over his shoulder, and makes a beeline straight for the bounce house. I stand there watching them, two people who had to grow up faster than they should have, laugh and jump for joy as if they didn’t get to do this when they were younger.
I can’t look away. Erin’s hair is flying around her delicate face as she jumps, and Rudy is laughing so hard he almost falls. For a moment, it’s like they’ve both forgotten every shitty thing life threw at them.
Oliver, Austin, and a moody Hayes pile into the bounce house seeking protection when an army of kids chase them with waterguns. A couple minutes later it collapses under the weight of four fully grown men. The kids boo them, but Erin grins from ear to ear as she crawls out and I don’t think she’s ever looked more beautiful.
As the party winds down, most of the kids head inside to watch cartoons. Roman tugs on Erin’s jacket as she cleans up the loose colored strings that came out of the piñata.
She bends to his level, and he whispers something in her ear before giving her a tight hug and kissing her cheek. He runs off, giving me a quick fist bump as he passes.
Erin is covered in glitter glue from the arts and crafts earlier today. She’s a mess, but still so beautiful. A rush of thoughtsfloods my mind—about peeling off her clothes and helping her get cleaned up—before I catch myself and approach her.
Down, boy.
“What did he say?” I ask her.
“I’m sworn to secrecy,” she says, holding her hands up in surrender, and I know I’m going to need to drop a ton of cash on candy to get Roman to tell me.
“They’re gonna cut the cake in about ten minutes,” I tell her. “And then we’ll get going.”
“O-okay,” she says, her voice trembling ever so slightly.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask her.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes shifting to her feet.
“Part of me wants to stay here,” she admits. “Because the second we leave, it’s real. We officially cross into new territory together.” She stops and bites her lip, as if deciding whether she should stop or carry on giving me her thoughts. “I’m a little terrified, and I really don’t want that to mess things up.”
“Is there something that you’re particularly nervous about? How can I help you feel better?” I ask, closing some of the space between us, a smirk playing on my lips.
“Maybe all of it.”
I brush my thumb along her cheek bone, so enticingly slow.
“How about we take it one second, one minute, one hour at a time? I’ll check in with you to make sure you’re okay and are comfortable with the way things are moving. And, if at any point you’re nervous about anything, just let me know and we can talk about it. Okay?”
“Yeah. I think I can work with that,” she says and heads inside to wash off some of the glitter glue.
My phone buzzes—once, twice, then nonstop. I snort so loudly, it hurts my brain. Rudy’s threats come in rapid-fire texts, each one more dramatic than the last.
WE’RE THE TORNADOES, BITCHES!
