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“What…?”
“Why…?”
“How…?”
They talked over each other before petering out. Not one of them asking a full question. They didn’t have to. I knew their questions by heart. They were the same questions that they’d texted me, sent in emails, and even left in voicemails until I changed my phone number. And even though I never answered, I’d read or listened to every one of them.
Feeling the weight of the stares from our large audience, I ignored the elephant in the room, and said, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go talk to my friend Grace.”
The wall of muscle made up of broad shoulders, delectable abdominals, and powerful thighs parted, allowing me to walk between them. But the moment I was about to pull clean of Brice and T.J., T.J. wrapped his palm lovingly around my biceps, pulling me to a stop.
“We need to talk. We will talk,” T.J. said into my ear before he pulled back, standing upright as he stared down into my wide eyes. “You owe us that much.”
I chewed on my bottom lip as I nodded. I did owe them that, but if I did talk, it would be on my terms. Not theirs.
“Are you okay? What was that about?” Grace threaded her arm through mine and pulled me over to the patio table. Without giving me a chance to answer, she walked over to one of the outdoor fridges and pulled out a pitcher of lemonade. She poured some into two tall glasses along with some ice before she added a large dollop of vodka. She placed the drink in front of me. “It’s lavender lemonade. And don’t complain about the booze. You look like you need it.”
“Thanks.” I lifted the glass and drank a third of it, giving myself a brain freeze from the ice. Or maybe the headache was from the near confrontation with the three men that owned my heart and didn’t give it back.
I rubbed my temples.
“Want to talk about it?” Grace placed her hand on mine.
Did I? I’d never told anyone what happened, but a glance around me showed me that this wasn’t the time or the place. Not when so many ears, including the three pairs belonging to the guys in question, were in hearing vicinity. “Maybe later.”
But now that she asked, I couldn’t help but think about it as I watched them out of the corner of my eye.
It was through T.J. that I’d met Brice and Aaron. He’d been two years older than me at high school, but as the leading star on the football team and me a cheerleader, we got to know each other. And since I hadn’t been old enough to drive, he’d offered to drive me home after practices. We grew close, becoming friends instead of dating as he’d been given a full-ride scholarship to Ohio State. Neither one of us wanted a long-distance relationship when I still had two more years of high school. But we kept our friendship alive during those years. His parents even received permission from mine to bring me with them when they went to his first college game.
That was when I met Brice and Aaron.
They’d been freshmen on the football team with T.J. All members of the defensive line which meant that they spent a lot of time together, becoming friends as well as teammates. It became natural for me to include little things for them in the care packages that I sent. A natural evolution followed with them emailing and texting me, growing our individual friendships.
And over time, they stole my heart whether they meant to or not.
When I went off to university, staying in Canada, I travelled down to Ohio State whenever I could—usually a couple times a semester. Even spring break was spent with them as we lucked out and had the same one.
While I dated a bit during high school—mainly to please my mom—I didn’t during those first two years at university. When a guy tried to kiss me at the first party I went to, I went back to my room and cried, feeling like I’d cheated on the three of them. It sort of soured me on the whole dating thing.
Not that I ever told them that. They didn’t need to know I was in love with them. Besides, who falls in love with their three best guy friends?
“Becca, are you wanting fish, steak or both?” Jonathon’s voice pulled me from reliving my memories. When I gave him a questioning look, he continued, “I have enough for everyone, but knowing how much all these guys can eat, I wanted to make sure that the women get their choice first.”
“If Kyle’s cooking the fish, then I’ll take both, please. It’s been awhile since I’ve had Kyle’s fish.”
“See.” Kyle smacked Aaron’s well-muscled and still naked chest. Yum! I picked up my glass to finish off the spiked lemonade to hide my flushed cheeks. “I told you that I made the best fish. So are you willing to try some, now? After all, you caught most of them.”
I zoned out again as I covertly stared at the three men who never failed to capture my attention. What in the world was I going to do?
***
Aaron
“Fine. I’ll try some of your fish,” I told the grinning Kyle. Fish wasn’t high on my food list despite how healthy everyone said it was. Despite my blond haired, blue eyed, surfer looks, growing up in backwater Nebraska with parents who were homesteader survivalists, we didn’t eat seafood. And as much as I’d grown out of many of their strictest teachings by broadening my horizons, eating seafood was still an issue.
I kept an eye on Becca, but didn’t get close. Whenever one of us walked near her, she stiffened. As much as I hated it, it proved that she wasn’t as indifferent to us as she tried to portray.
Picking up on the tension and unease between her and us, the others who joined us in this little cookout—if twenty people could be called little—took up positions between us. Something I both hated and was grateful for. The last thing I wanted was for Becca to get scared and run again. At least not until I had a chance to say my piece.
