Page 4 of Trial and Error

From what I can see in this poorly lit venue, he has dark hair that is styled back neatly and a beard that looks well-groomed. His large hand holds a champagne flute in front of him, and as I let my eyes wander down his frame I’m not disappointed by the sight. Broad shoulders fill out his black suit deliciously and the white shirt he wears underneath contrasts nicely against his warm skin.

As my eyes travel back up his body, I feel a warmth creep up the back of my neck as I lift my gaze to his face and find his eyes already locked on me.

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Fucking nightclubs.

The bane of my existence.

My brother’s lucky I love him, otherwise I would not be seated in some small-ass booth with my two cousins pressed up against me on either side. I vowed to myself that when I hit twenty-five I would stop going to nightclubs because I have no place there…and yet here I am, thirty years young, and surrounded by people a decade younger than me.

Oscar sits at the head of the table and takes a drink of champagne as his dazed eyes look around the table at all of us. My cousin Zac and I share an amused look as my little brother stands from where he’s sat on unsteady legs.

“I just want to thank you all for coming to celebrate my engagement,” Oscar slurs as he holds his glass up. “It only took me seven years, but I finally locked her down.”

Avery, the youngest of us all, rolls her eyes and tugs on the sleeve of his jacket to pull him down. “Sit down, goofball,” she grumbles, but I see the small tilt of her lips as she leans over and places a kiss on his cheek. “Congratulations, Ozzy.”

The three of us listen as Oscar drones on about how beautiful his bride-to-be and mother of his child is, and how he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her. It’s nice, really, seeing him all love struck like this. Oscar and Isobel met when they were nineteen, and he has been smitten ever since—and he always makes sure every fucker knows it, too.

I remember the day he met her.

It was two in the morning, I was picking him up from some college party, and he got into my car with a starry-eyed gaze and a grin stretched from ear-to-ear. They had been introduced to one another through one of his classmates—and have been joined at the hip ever since, the two of them became even closer when Isobel gave birth to their daughter, Olivia.

Zac lifts his glass from the table and hums approvingly at the leggy blonde who walks past with an overexaggerated swish of her hips. She knows what she’s doing as she looks over her shoulder and bats her thick and clumpy lashes over her blue eyes. Zac, the idiot he is, laps up the attention as she winks at him, and he wastes no time downing his drink before rubbing his hands over his jean-clad thighs.

“I’ll be right back,” he says as he stands, his eyes not once leaving his pray as she walks down the hallway toward the bathrooms.

Avery sneers slightly at her brother’s endeavors. “Don’t rush back, pig.”

He looks at her with a cocky grin and reaches around me to pinch her cheeks. “Don’t worry, sis, I’ll be taking my time with that one.” With a parting wink, he takes off in the same direction as the blonde.

Avery takes a look around the bar and lets out a loud and irritated sigh. “Couldn’t we go somewhere a little…” She trails off, her eyes flicking toward her brother who is now ducking behind a partially open door. “Classier?”

Oscar rolls his eyes at our cousin as he refills her flute with the bubbly drink.

“This place is fine, Ave,” I mumble, digging my elbow into her side. “Stop complaining and drink your drink.”

She wraps a dainty hand around the glass and brings it to her ruby-painted lips. Even though there’s an eight-year age gap between Avery and me, we are the closest out of all the cousins. Growing up, Oscar and Zac were always the boisterous ones, whereas I was usually happy hanging on the sidelines. Avery grew up with her brother’s fiery attitude and zest for life, but amidst the madness, she often enjoyed quieter moments. On family vacations, while the boys were splashing around in the pools, Avery and I usually sat together on a sun lounger or at a table playing card games together.

“I’m going to get something else to drink,” Avery says, and I watch as she slides out of the booth and heads past the dance floor toward the bar.

My eyes hone in on the woman standing in the middle of the dance floor. I watch as she wraps her arms around her slender friend and pulls her into her body. The two of them are laughing at something, but I can’t keep my eyes off her.

Her body looks fine-as-fuck in the dark dress that hugs her curves fiercely, the material clinging so tightly it looks like a second skin. I allow my eyes to wander down until they land on her ass, and the sight alone has my mouth drier than the Sahara Desert. Thick, plump, and perfectly round, her ass leaves little to the imagination, and the thought of palming both cheeks in my hands has me clearing my throat.

It takes an ungodly amount of effort to steer my face away from the lower half of her body, but when I do, my eyes drift over her petite waist and wide hips. Her tits are being restrained by the high neckline but I can tell from here they’re the perfect size. Not too big, but still a handful.

And that face.

Absolutely breathtaking.

Large light eyes that shine under the light bouncing off the disco ball above her head. Her nose is slightly upturned but lifts higher when she smiles, and good god, if that isn’t a sight that would send a grown man straight to his knees.

Her light, most likely blonde, hair falls in soft waves around her face and over her slender shoulders and lands halfway down her back. It looks as soft as silk, and I can almost feel it’s satiny texture slipping through my fingers or wound tightly around my fist. I clench my jaw at the thought of the latter.

As her eyes meet my own, Avery steps in front of me, and I let out a groan that has my brother chuckling under his breath.

“Stop being creepy,” she chastises as she sits down. “She’s way out of your league.”