“You sure know how to stroke a guy’s ego.”
She laughs. “Is this where I make a comment about knowing how to stroke a lot of things?”
“Damn. You said it. Not me.” I lift my beer and take a long drink. “I missed your sass.”
“Well, Aston, there’s a lot more where that came from.”
We cheers and clink our glasses.
Hours pass, and drinks keep coming.
Then more drinks.
Eva and I are with my friends and teammates, huddled together in a group, separate from the other guests. Our stories get exaggerated, and embarrassing memories resurface.
The lights dim, and an acoustic guitar, playing a familiar tune, blasts loudly through the sound system.
A collective roar goes up from our Walker University crew. It’s like a biological trigger.
“Fuck yes!” Liam shouts from across the table, grabs Alie’s hand, and pulls her onto the dance floor. He waves to the rest of us. “Get out here!”
“Garth!” Archie yells, dragging Emma toward the center of the dance floor so fast she nearly loses a shoe.
Within five seconds, our entire group has formed a wild, dancing circle, no doubt shocking all the blue bloods in attendance.
Eva, Aiden, Charlie, Beck, Casey, Noelle,Casey’s wife, Bo, Chelsea, Brooke, Silas’s wife, Silas, my teammate Brody Vaughn, my other teammate Wyatt St. Clair, and Presley St. Clair, Wyatt’s wife and the bride’s sister and our team doctor —all of us hold our drinks in the air, creating a ceiling of glass and flying booze.
As the chorus hits, we erupt, screaming the lyrics at the top ofour lungs, jumping up and down like we’re back in college at Logan’s on a Saturday night after a win.
I pull Eva into my arms and spin her. Her green dress flares out, and her laughter is loud and unrestricted. Silas bumps into me from behind, and for a heated second, she’s pressed against me. Her hands come up to my chest to steady her balance.
We’re both breathless, singing right into each other’s face, completely lost in the sweaty, euphoric nostalgia of our college days.
She leans in, her lips brushing against my ear as the song comes to a finish with a massive cheer from the entire crowd. Even the blue bloods.
“I think Archie got all the dance moves in the family.”
“What are you even saying? I’m an elite dancer, Eva,” I say, my hands staying firmly on her hips as the music changes to a slower tempo.
Around us, the circle of friends is dissipating, and people stumble toward the bar. And I see Charlie talking to the DJ, likely putting in another request for our group. Somehow, a football appears, and some of the guys start tossing the ball around just off the dance floor.
But Eva and I stay right where we are. The rest of the world feels like it’s moving in slow motion. Her eyes are dark now as the playful banter melts into something heavy and undeniable. The tension we had buried beneath the boundaries of friendship is suddenly roaring to life.
“I’m not sure we should be doing this,” she says, even though she doesn’t pull away. Her hands gripping my shirt.
“Doing what? Dancing?” I ask, my voice rough.
“Looking at each other like this in front of all these people. My dad is here somewhere, probably watching me.” She smirks.
The mention of other people highlights the warning Aiden issued, but the alcohol and the sheer intoxicating reality of having her in my arms burn right through it.
“Other people? All I see is you.”
She leans in and whispers in my ear, “You wanna get out of here?”
Every smart answer, every reasonable thought, and every warning bell disappears.
“Fuck. Yes.”
