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I smacked my lips together loudly.
I wanted to annoy the hell out of Riff for some reason.
He looked at me. “You realize…”
“Oh, yeah, I know,” I said. “My brother.”
“It’s not that simple, Fi,” he said. “You know that, right?”
“I know that. Remi hates you. You hate Remi.”
“It’s way more than just hate,” he said with a grin.
“Change the subject, Griffin.”
“We’re going another couple miles,” he said. “Okay? It’ll be fine.”
Riff told the driver of the car where to go.
We were being careful and responsible.
Getting a ride to the bar.
Hiding in the backseat of a car.
But it all made sense.
Last thing I needed right now was Remi up my ass because of Riff. Or because of my life. Wanting to know why I was back in town. All that cliché, overprotective older brother crap. Which was funny in itself since Remi wasn’t even a year older than I was.
Yeah, our mother… she didn’t wait.
The old family story we were told was that our moronic father told our naive mother that you can’t get pregnant while breastfeeding. That some kind of chemical thing happened in a woman’s body where all the focus went to producing milk so a woman didn’t produce eggs at that time.
The result of that?
Me.
We made it to a bar.
The neon lights and the echoing sound of music all called to me.
Somewhere off in the really near distance was the ocean.
I could see the faintness of the white caps of the waves.
I had the urge to grab Riff’s hand but I held off.
We both knew our limits.
We knew what this was between us.
Great sex. Nothing more.
Even though we were going out for drinks.
Drinks to get the night started…
Five minutes later, I sat with my back against a wooden railing and looked out to the beach.
