Carter sits down on the opposite side of the couch.
“Isn’t that what you ordered me to do last night?”
Carter sighs, running a hand over his eyes. “I’m not saying that you’re on house arrest.”
“Well, your point was clear,” I mutter, sipping my martini. “I’m not allowed to have fun while I’m under your roof.”
“I just need to know where you are, Ari.” He drops his hand, exhausted from dealing with me. His blue eyes are earnest when they meet mine. “I’ve been taking care of you since I was five years old. You think that stops because you’re grown?”
My defenses weaken at the look on his face. He is my big brother, but he has always been my father figure, too. We have great parents. They love us. They care. But they were prettyabsent while we were growing up. It was always just Carter and me. My dad was never in the stands of my volleyball games, but you know who was? Carter, his hair still wet from the hockey practice he raced from.
“I’m sorry.”
He studies my face, and when he’s satisfied that I mean it, he reaches over to smack his hand onto my shoulder. “You don’t need to date a bunch of idiots to regain control of your life. Adding men into the mix usually makes things worse, not better.”
I smirk over the rim of my glass. We’ve never outright had the conversation about why I do what I do. Why I date who I date. But he knows me well enough to have come to that conclusion over a decade of watching the horror show.
“I’m just trying to figure things out.”
“I know,” he says, “and I want to let you do that, but only if you’re being safe. Alright?”
It’s annoying how much I love him. “Alright.”
He nods. Our argument is over. We’re both compromising, even if it kills me a little bit. I lean over and hold out my hand, and without hesitation, he smacks my palm twice before we do every single step of our eight-step handshake that we created when we were kids.
It’s like the handshake solidifies the end of all our arguments, this one included. He’s immediately lighter, happier, brighter in the eyes, and I don’t want to cry as much as I did ten minutes ago.
“I’m having some of the boys over tonight. Arden is working nights, but you can hang out with us if you really do want to stay in?”
I don’t react. I force myself not to ask which boys. Carter mightactuallyorder me to go on a date if I show him any sign of interest. I’m hoping for one big, bearded friend with piercinggreen eyes to be included in that company. The one who is fun to flirt with. The one who will never crack, so it’s fun to try. The one who looks at me like I’m the most intriguing human being on the planet, but never says a single word about it.
Boston Black is mysterious. He’s a riddle I can’t solve. I knew it from the first moment I laid eyes on him. He’s different. I want to break down that icy barrier around him. Get to the root of him. Figure out what makes him tick. I feel no shame in how obvious I make that.
“I’ll hang out for a bit.” I pop another olive in my mouth. “If you aren’t playing video games.”
“No video games,” he confirms. “We’re going to watch some baseball highlights and have some drinks. That’s it.”
I cringe. Top two worst sports of all time. Boring.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s all we’ve got, Ari. The other option is golf.”
Ew. Top worst sport. I’ll suffer through baseball.
He laughs harder, his smile back. His eyes sparkle when he looks at me again. I’ve made him happy, which is my very favourite thing to do. I’m working on making him proud of me again, but that one might take a bit more time. Arden has my location. I’m going to try to stop dating the entire city just to feel something, and I’m going to spend some quality time with my brother.
I’ll get there.
As if fate has a sense of humour, Boston Black is the first to knock on the door. Carter’s in the bathroom, and we all know he’ll be in there for another twenty minutes, so I am the lucky one who opens the door to greet him.
Boston’s eyes flash with surprise when he sees me instead of my brother. I’m in a pair of small biker shorts and an oversized Pittsburgh sweater, but I made sure my makeup and hair were done. I have to look like I’m not putting in effort just for him, but still remind him how cute I am.
I smile charmingly, leaning against the door to prevent him from entering. I glance at the pizza box in his hand and the six-pack of beer in the other.
“I’ve seen dirty movies that start this way,” I say, my eyes flickering up to his face. He shoots me a look of warning, which only makes me smile wider. “But the delivery boys have never beenthishandsome.”
I wonder if he has to physically force himself not to roll his eyes when I lay it on this thick. He’s unbreakable. It’s unnatural.
Give me more.
