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Brendon takes a swig from his water bottle. His dark eyes fill with that paternal I know best, and it’s not this look of his. “You really want to hand her more of your thoughts?”
“It was Leighton’s idea.”
“You’re an adult. Take responsibility for yourself.”
The water sloshes against the side of the pool as Leighton does a cartwheel.
There are another dozen people in the pool—Dean went all out—but I only see her.
Her purple hair sticking to her forehead.
Her lips parting with a laugh.
Her ass bouncing as she jumps, straining the straps of that so-called swimsuit.
“What did you tell me when I was trying to get over Kay?” He takes another swig.
We’re standing in the shade, under the patio umbrella, the enormous backyard in front of us.
The grill to our right.
Dean’s fixing burgers. Flirting with a mutual friend.
Leighton insists he isn’t Mr. Powers.
But who else could it be?
“Nobody fucking warns you good advice comes back to haunt you,” I say.
“Be less insightful.”
“I’m trying.”
“See somebody. Do something. Anything that’s not about Penny.”
“I am.”
“Pretending to date your best friend—”
“I’m seeing her, aren’t I?”
“You’re fucking her?”
“No.” My voice is incredulous. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Then you aren’t seeing her.”
Maybe not romantically. But I am seeing Leighton. When I close my eyes, she’s there. Pressing her berry lips into a smile. Running her fingers through my hair. Shifting into my lap with a sigh.
“You like her?”
“She’s my best friend.”
“You want to fuck her?”
“Look at her.”
He chuckles. Takes another swig. “Beyond that?”
