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If I could stop the hairs on my arm from standing straight up and the chills from running up my spine, I would. It’s no use though because a literal shiver works its way through my entire body and he chuckles.Chuckles.
“Are you okay?” Warren asks me from his seat next to us.
“Yep!” I reply a little too high-pitched.
He nods and smiles at me, then turns the music up. He and Keanna seem to be having a great time in their own little bubble on their side of the truck, just jamming out and screaming the words to whatever headache-inducing song he’s playing.
I look down at my wrist, feeling something wrapped around it. It’s Gage’s hand lifting it toward the moonlight shining in through the window.
We stare at it for a moment and then I turn my face toward his. His brow quirks in curiosity.
“Burn scar,” I explain.
The white patch of skin is about the width of a ruler and runs half the length of my forearm. It’s decades old and I’m so used to it that I hardly ever notice or think about it anymore. I’d rather not dive into details about it right now. Not with Warren sitting right next to us.
Luckily, he doesn’t proceed with any questions. His thumb runs the length of it. The touch is so light and tentative that I can barely feel it. Like a light breeze.
The urge to pull away is strong. But I don’t. It feels too good.
He breaks the connection for me and lets me lay my arm back down in my lap. All of a sudden he feels more rigid and tense beneath me.
If I was brave, I’d place my hand on his knee. Soothe both our nerves. Maybe lean back into him a little. Shoot him a mischievous look over my shoulder. Admit to him how handsome and alluring I think he is.
I’m not brave though. Notthatbrave anyway.
I have no business feeling up my brother’s best friend anyway. That feels like a recipe for disaster.
Chapter 8
Gage
Warren’s a great guy so it shouldn’t surprise me so much to find out that his sister is just as cool.
I don’t know much about her yet, and it feels weird to admit, but I want to. Over the years I’ve heard endless talk about her.
“My sister’s the best.”
“Blythe just got accepted into Johns Hopkins Medical School. She’s so smart.”
“Look at this playlist my sister sent me, she cracks me up.”
“My sister sent me the new hat I wanted. How cool is that?”
I felt like I halfway knew her before she even showed up here. The one thing in all of Warren’s ramblings that he so conveniently left out is how fucking cute she is. She’s more than cute, she’s… flat-out stunning.
Of course I noticed how thick and sweet-smelling her hair is. And the dimples and the light freckles and the button nose. But it was her voice that about knocked me off my feet. When she laughed I swear my heart stopped. There was a rasp to it. The type of sound that could hypnotize you. Calming but sultry.
And I was hanging on every damn word out of her mouth like a lovesick puppy dog.
I’m pathetic.
Horny and pathetic.
“You have no game,” Tripp says next to me.
“Excuse me?”
“That girl in the purple shirt over there?” He points his beer bottle in the direction of the bar. Our high-top table is towards the back on the other side of the dance floor. I spot the one he’s talking about and she winks and waves. Good grief. “She’s been giving you fuck me eyes for a solid five minutes.”
