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“Oh please,” Logan rebuts. “That’s not what I meant. I meant like… she wishes we were going down. Not.” He stops his rambling and groans. “You all have dirty fucking minds.”
“Do we?” Thomas’ eyes narrow at him.
“I didn’t take it the way you are saying it was meant to be taken,” Marc adds.
“This is gold.” Oliver laughs to break the tension.
His laugh causes Kali and I to break out into laughter.
“Let’s just fucking play,” Logan huffs as he continues to the cornhole.
The corn hole set up is off to the side of the fire pit. The sun has set, so it’s not perfectly lit. The only thing that lights up the game is the glow of the deck lights and the fire illuminating the yard.
Since it’s girls against guys, Logan insisted on being on the same side as Emiline, which doesn’t help his case of his previous rebuttal. That leaves Marc and I standing on the same side.
The tension that radiates from everyone is almost too much to bear.
I glance over at the fire pit and notice Oliver typing away on his phone with a very serious look on his face. My eyes scan the rest of the group and I see Peyton sitting on Thomas’ lap, deep in discussion. I have no clue what they are talking about, but the way Thomas looks at her is a look of pure adoration.
If I were a girl who believed in love, or craved even a slice of it, I would want it to be the way Thomas is with Peyton. There isn’t a question of doubt when you look at the two of them. I’m so happy Peyton found her happily ever after.
“Ready?” Marc cuts my thoughts as he takes a step to stand next to me.
“Are you ready to lose?” I tease.
“In your dreams, Princess.” He nudges me with his shoulder and then shoots me his devilish wink.
Logan and Emiline go first. I can feel some weird sexual tension coming from them, even across the game. She swears up and down that nothing is going on. Truthfully, the two of them fight like an old married couple would. They have such an odd dynamic, so it wouldn’t surprise me if there was something they weren’t telling us.
“You go first.” He smiles in my direction.
“Such a gentleman.” I smile back but watch as Marc’s face turns to anguish at thegentlemancomment.
I ignore it as I toss the bag across the lawn. I miss the hole by a long shot. It doesn’t even hit the table.
“Oof,” he chuckles. “That’s a rough start.”
“Let’s see you try to do it better, boss man.”
As if he is a part of some professional cornhole tournament in his spare time, Marc tosses the bag and it does an air shot right into the hole. It doesn’t even touch the board.
God dammit.
“You should already know by now…” He brings his mouth down close to my ear as if he’s telling me a secret that only I need to hear. “I always do it better.”
“Oh please.” I playfully push him away.
“You and I both know that’s the truth, Ave.”
“I know one thing you’re not good at.” I tip my chin in confidence.
“What’s that?”
“Tacos.”
“Excuse me?” He barks out a laugh as if that’s not what I expected.
“You don’t do tacos right,” I say confidently.
