Page 36

This is usually how these nights go—noise, bodies, everyone having a better time than they probably should.

"Pong, huh?" I ask, stepping into the dining room where a dozen cups are set up, filled halfway with beer on either side of the table. "I guess there's no age limit on this thing?" I pluck the ball out of his hand and roll it between my fingers.

JJ and a rookie outfielder look at each other and wiggle their brows as the girls tucked against them giggle to each other. "We're keepin' you young, man," he calls over the music that suddenly shot up a few notches. "You're welcome!"

I roll my eyes and toss the ball over his head. It disappears inside the furthest red plastic as I clap JJ on the shoulder. "Maybe next time."

He groans, throwing his head back. "Dude, it's your house," he reminds me. "At least pretend you're having fun."

"I am having fun," I say, cracking open the pounder in my hand.

He shoots me a look, unconvinced. I take a long pull just to prove a point, then turn and head back toward the living room.

It's not a lie—I wouldn't pack this many people into my high-rise if some part of me didn't enjoy it. I just don't need to crush keg stands or head into my bedroom with a girl on either arm to prove it.

That's never been me—the flashy showman, the party animal. And now that I'm older, now that the things I've worked for are finally lining up, most of me is content just to stand in the middle of it and let that be enough.

I plop down in my oversized recliner, nodding to the boys as they acknowledge me before giving their attention back to the game. A blonde I recognize from another party I had a few weekends ago pulls away from the dancing happening in front of us as soon as she spots me.

And of course she moves my way.

Someone always does.

"Hey," she says, sitting down on the arm of the chair.

I take an unwanted sip of my beer and rest it on my knee before looking up at her. "What's up?"

"You wanna dance with us?" she asks, her voice softer than I'd expect considering the noise.

"Nah," I chuckle. "I'm good. Thanks though."

She slips her arm around my neck and gently rubs the pad of her thumb over the sensitive spot behind my ear. "You sure?"

I focus on that contact like her skin on mine is the key to stopping everything else going on around us.

It's an easy kind of touch. Casual really. And I don't lean into her.

But for a second, I don't pull away either.

I entertain the idea—not of dancing, God no. But of having her stay. Letting her slip onto my lap and just… be here.

Close. Warm. Rubbing her thumb exactly where it is now.

My eyes barely close before it hits me. Different hands. Different lips. Different hair—dark now.

Not even a full picture.

More of a… feeling. Familiar. Comfortable. So certain I'd swear I can feel her breath.

It sneaks up on me the way it always does, and I flinch hard, hating myself for how fast it happens.

Now, suddenly the music seems louder, this chair way too small.

"I actually… I got a—" I toss my thumb over my shoulder. "A thing."

Her face falls in disappointment, and I offer her an apologetic smile as I push to standing. "But you go have fun."

I blow out a heavy breath as I move to the window, and throw it open, letting the cool September air rush in like it might clear my head.