“No fair!” I struggle to shove free from my cushion-filled cocoon, but he doesn’t make it easy for me.
Deacon holds himself in check, keeping his hits playful while I swing at him with everything I’ve got. I’m a little competitive and he has an obvious advantage—his size, weight, and the fact that he hastwopillows to my one.
Completely unfair.
“Last chance,” he shouts over my shrieks. “Surrender now!”
We’re both laughing so hard now that only one in five strikes connects. We look like a pair of toddlers without aim as we swing at one other between fits of laughter and, oh my god, I’m wheezing now.
“Ne—Nev—Never!” My voice breaks off in a squeal. I can hardly breathe. My chest heaves as I gasp between laughing and cursing, but I’m still going back for more.
Deciding on a Hail Mary, I throw my pillow one last time, missing him by a mile but using the distraction to lunge to the floor where I collapse, flat on my back, and admit defeat.
Deacon drops to the ground beside me, leaning against the side of my bed as he sits on the floor, elbows propped on his knees. “You’re all fire, aren’t you?” Sweat dots his brow, and he sucks in a lungful of air, as out of breath as I am.
“And a little brimstone,” I say. “Or so I’ve been told.”
He grins and I can’t help but respond with a smile of my own. This is nice. Better than getting out of the house. Even better than Golden Tee.
“Today was—exactly what I needed. Thank you.”
“You need to stop thanking me or it’ll just go to my head.,” he warns.
Rolling to my stomach, I tuck my hands beneath my chin and peer up at him. “You mean that giant ego of yours can get even bigger?”
“You’re lucky I can’t reach any of the pillows.” He leans forward and ruffles my already messy hair. “But, I can do this.”
“Hey!” I smack his hands away before pushing myself into a sitting position. “Rude,” I snap, but with no actual heat in my voice.
He shrugs and leans back, giving me a peculiar look.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I don’t know what prompts me to voice the question out loud. Even to my own ears, it sounds stupid. But I have this nagging feeling, warning me this is too good to be true. That Deacon’s friendship can’t be this simple. Nothing ever is.
Besides, guys and girls are never really friends. Not in the strictly platonic—but we still hang-out, one-on-one—sense. Sure, I’m friends with Emilio and Roman, but through their girlfriends. Not because we have this close connection. I know they have my back, but even that is largely driven by their relationship with Aaron and has nothing to do with me directly. We all get along, but I couldn’t see myself just kicking it with either of them the way I am with Deacon right now.
It’d be weird.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I rush to say. “I appreciate it. But I’m trying to wrap my head around why you’d even want to be friends with me after everything Dom’s put you through.Especiallyafter everything Dom’s put you through.”
His expression sobers, and he rubs the back of his neck, making the uncertain feeling I was just having bloom into something more. He searches for his words, which is both telling and incredibly frustrating. Like he has something to hide.
He shouldn’t be trying to tell me what he thinks I want to hear. All I want is the truth. Too much in my life has gone to crap recently. And I don’t want to rely on his friendship only to realize later on that it was all one-sided.
“I think …” He hesitates before rolling his head on his shoulders and meeting my gaze. “We just vibe. Don’t you think?”
He offers what is meant to be an easy smile, but the tick in his jaw gives way to the fact that it’s forced.
“Yeah. We vibe. But there’s more to it than that.” I know I’m missing something here. Come on, Deacon. Don’t prove me right.Please.
A multitude of emotions flicker across his face before he lets out a heavy sigh full of resignation. “Can I ask you one question first?”
“And then you’ll answer mine?”
He nods. “Yes. I just… “ Mashing his lips together, his nostrils flare before he forces out the question. “What do you see in Price?”
Brows drawn together, I close my eyes for a beat, letting his question settle over me. So, this is because of Dominique? Is he using me to get to him? Was that the goal this entire time?
Opening my eyes again, I try to shove down my disappointment, hanging on to one final shred of hope as I ask, “That’s your question? Before you can tell me whether or not you have some ulterior motive for befriending me, you want to know what I see in Dominique Price?”
