Not that I’m fully lying. My brother is great. But I want her for myself.
She takes a deep breath and holds it, then releases it. “Right,” she says, nodding. “Okay. Good to know.”
It might be wishful thinking on my part, but I swear I see a flicker of hurt or disappointment in her eyes. Or maybe she was just being friendly all this time because she liked my brother and was trying to get closer to him.
“Yeah,” I choke out, forcing a smile. “If he asks you out and you say yes, he’s a lucky guy.”
Before she can respond, Ace walks in, his face lighting up the second he sees us.
“Oh, hey. There you are,” he says, walking toward Eva and placing a hand on her shoulder. “The guys are setting out a new round of beer pong outside. You coming?”
“Sure,” she says softly. Her smile is aimed at Ace, but shegives me one last unreadable look. “I’ll be out there in a second. Let me grab my friends.” Then she turns and walks away.
“I’ll be here,” Ace calls after her, grinning. He grabs my arm, eyes wide and excited, and leans into me. “Did she say anything about me?”
I force myself to smile. “Why? What’d you do?”
“I asked her out.”
And there’s the confirmation that I did the right thing by not saying anything to her.
“I swear, brother, I think she might be my soulmate. There’s just something about her, you know?”
I do know. And I feel like I can barely breathe.
“Soulmate, huh?” I let out a rough laugh, slapping his shoulder hard. “You turning into a sap like Archie, Ace?” I tease, comparing him to our older brother, who’s head over heels for his wife, Emma.
“Fuck yes,” he says, punching my arm before turning to walk out the door to the backyard. “She could be my Emma,” he says over his shoulder.
I stand there for a minute and watch him walk away. My stomach is in knots. But I can’t sit here and sulk all night. So, I walk out of the kitchen and blend back into the crowd. The noise washes over me, but inside my head … nothing.
Three months of hesitation. Three months of waiting for the right time.
And just like that, I’ve missed my chance.
EVANGELINE
Walker football parties are legendary. And a party at the Griffith twins’ house, even more so because every girl I know wants a shot at one or both of the brothers. I can’t deny that I wouldn’t mind a shot with Aston.
I came to the party tonight with that goal in mind. Aston Griffith. And tonight, I want to see if he’ll actually ask me out. I’ve been watching him, and I know he’s watching me too.
I’ve been hanging out with my broadcasting crew, who have all become really good friends over the last two years. We talk and laugh and go over the highlights from the game in an unofficial capacity, giving our own opinions instead of what we should be saying on camera.
But my attention keeps drifting over to Aston through the crowd. I look at him with his broad shoulders, and he’s wearing his Walker football hat … backward. All he needs are gray sweatpants, and I think every girl in this room would bow at his feet.
I think it’s been a solid three months that we’ve been flirting. Specifically since he started lingering by my camera during warm-ups, tossing out goofy, confident one-liners that made my stomach do inappropriate backflips for someone on the clock. I’ve given him every green light in the book. I’ve laughed at his corny jokes and stayed longer than I needed to. I even changed into this crop top before I came here to maybe grab his attention from all the other half-dressed girls here tonight, looking for a fun night with a Griffith brother or any football player wanting to have a good time.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him set his drink down. When I turn my head and look at him, our gazes lock, and he starts walking toward me. My heart is hammering against my ribs.
Finally. He’s actually coming over to me.
But before he covers half the distance, someone else steps into my space.
“What’s up, friends? Y’all looked great on the sidelines tonight, but I think you missed my best play in the second quarter,” he says with a tilt to his lips.
Ace Griffith.
The resemblance is staggering. Aston and Ace have the same jawline, the same dirty-blond hair, the same bluish-green eyes, but their energy is completely different. Where Aston is more of a slow burn—a guy who lets his eyes do most of the talking until he drops a quiet, devastating smile—Ace is a freight train of swagger and confidence.
