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They both huffed out a laugh at my words but ignored my protests completely.
"Watch me," Tate repeated under his breath as he grabbed his own laptop to join the search. I watched as he scrolled through shelter dogs, looking for a match.
"Guys," I tried again. "This is nuts. You don't even know her."
"Oh, she's mine," Brock said. "I called her a good girl earlier, and let me tell you, she'll be on her knees for me one day and I'll treat her like a fucking queen."
"You don't date," I pointed out.
"Didn't," he corrected. "And she's not going to be ready to date for a while. I can be patient."
"Agreed," Tate said under his breath. The fact he—of all men—was considering this was wild. Tate didn't let people in, hell it took us years to get under his skin enough to become friends. Now he's going to claim this girl, just like that?
Something about their quick obsession with the pink-haired beauty had me growing more reluctant. Even if I thought she was hot and teased my friends about her, I knew the truth.
She wasn't going to date us all and I wasn't about to lose my friends over a girl.
They were my family now. As sexy as she was and how much fun I had flirting, they were more important.
“Here, I pulled up a picture of them from Coach’s Facebook,” Tate announced, showing Brock the image of Coach holding the pug, though it was younger then.
"This might be him!" Brock yelled, punching the air in triumph. "He's two hours away in a shelter. Fluffy Friends has a note that he's shy, scared of kids and other dogs, and was abandoned. He has the same mark on his cheek like a beauty mark."
"Brock, no," I argued.
He made eye contact with me as he typed something out, only glancing down for a moment before meeting my gaze and tapping the enter key harder than necessary.
"Oops," he deadpanned.
My stomach churned and I stormed off. Brock and Tate were the only two people in my life who made me feel like I mattered.
My parents gave me plenty of money and a whole lot of issues. Every time I saw them, I left feeling insignificant. They knew exactly how to get under my skin.
The only reason Dad didn't care that I bought the gym was because it was successful. We had a solid following and were featured in a few magazines for our inclusivity and classes. Though he thought sharing it with my friends was stupid.
I trusted them more than my own parents any day.
My frustration simmered until my skin was crawling with unease. My chest tightened and I felt like I would scream if I didn't get it out.
Without a word, I put on my running shoes and grabbed my headphones. The guys didn't even notice me leaving, so I slammed the door behind me for emphasis. My phone was back in my room, so I took off in a sprint the moment I hit the pavement, knowing they couldn't follow if I hurried.
As my feet pounded on the sidewalk my thoughts started to slow then ebb away. My mind was blissfully quiet, the burn of my overworked muscles the only thing able to get through. Running, for me, was therapy and had always been my default.
When I couldn't take anymore I slowed to a walk outside of the park, letting the fresh air and breeze cool me down and ground me.
Until my brain was back into action.
This wasn't about a pug.
It was about them.
Flirting with her and teasing the guys was one thing but I had never seen them agree on a type, or claim someone so intensely. I didn't know if it was some ‘white knight’ bullshit or something but she didn't need saving. She was out and working on getting back on her feet.
The girl who danced around the rink and the one we'd saved from that house were two very different people. Yes, I wanted to fuck her but that would be it.
Even as I had the thought, I knew it was wrong. She wasn't a one night stand. I also doubted she was cool with dating all three of us.
I was lying to them and myself.
