Maybe it ends in that bathroom.
The door to the balcony, which I may have been keeping an eye on, opens again. Boston strides back into the venue with Declan at his side. Wyatt and Seth are right behind them. The former’s eyes scan the room, his brow furrowing when he spots Callum’s now vacant seat at my table.
Declan’s eyes find Penny.
Boston’s eyes find me.
And because fate needs to humble both of us, my brother and Arden are heading right for them. They meet them at the edge of the dancefloor and Boston’s face immediately goes slack. His throat bobs as he buries his hands in his pockets, looking like the picture of a guilty man.
He can’t meet my brother’s eyes, so he doesn’t. He looks anywherebuthim.
And me.
Maybe I shouldn’t have crossed that line.
I can’t think about it now. Not about his inability to look at me or the possible ramifications of my impulsivity. I can’t. One meltdown this week was enough. The crime has already been committed. I can’t take it back.
I twirl Penny the way Avery is twirling Ellie, which makes Ellie explode into a fit of childlike giggles.
It’s fine. He was always going to be my hardest battle and greatest triumph. The aftermath of the war is typically worse than the actual fight. The way he looks sick to his stomach doesn’t have to sting if I don’t let it.
I look over my shoulder as I spin Penny around and around, because I’m a sucker for hurting my own feelings, apparently.
Boston’s eyes finally meet mine, and I don’t know what I see there. I can’t tell what he’s feeling. This is one of the rare moments where I wish he was a bit easier to read.
With a little shake of his head, he tears his gaze from me, slaps Declan on the back, and heads right for the bar.
I sip my drink innocently, watching Declan’s eyes linger on Boston’s back.
After four more songs and way too much perspiration, I sit back at my boring table with Arden and some of the girls. Reno is beyond drunk, so he’s currently on the dancefloor, sitting on top of Cole’s shoulders with his tie wrapped around his head. My brother is beside them, having a sloppy, discombobulated dance-off with the bride.
Declan pulls out the chair across from me and falls into it. Boston drops himself into the one beside him.
I drag my eyes to his face, drinking him in. Impeccable. He’s indescribable, really. I wish I could do him justice in words. He’s always transfixed me more than any architecture or blueprint ever has. I study the slope of his straight nose and the swell of those perfect, soft lips. All curated perfectly, as if God designed him personally.
There’s handsome and then there is Boston.
He stares at the dance floor instead of looking my way, jaw pulsing.
“Mr. Sweeten, how has your night been?” Arden jokes, smiling over at Declan.
He’s drunk, happy, and still staring at his wife. I don’t think his eyes have left her all night. “I should be up there with her, shouldn’t I?”
“You can take a couple of songs off,” Boston says. He looks across the table while everyone’s watching the dancefloor, relishing in how happy Penny has been tonight.
Our eyes finally lock again.
I smile, raising both my brows.
His eyes dart to my mouth as I blow a pink bubble, and his whole face darkens.
“Anyone want shots?” Oscar asks, getting to his feet. Everyone agrees a bit too eagerly, Boston the loudest of all.
Oh, I’ve totally fucked with his head.
“Grab enough for everyone!” Declan calls, and Oscar throws a thumbs-up over his shoulder.
Declan hops to his feet, rushing to the dancefloor to collect his bride. I take that moment to greedily look at Boston again, and he slowly drags his eyes back to me like we both can’t help it. We stare at each other, the memory of what happened making my stomach swoop and flutter. I see the recollection all over his face when his gaze darts to my lips for the second time in a minute.
