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I hear her laugh from across the room. Or maybe I feel it in the air. The magenta fabric. The long line of her back. The curve on her lips.
I want that laugh. The smile. All of it.
Jealousy fills my veins. It’s rare I care enough to feel jealous. Right now, I want to deck the guy flirting with her. It’s not a strong enough urge to overpower me, but it’s there, and it’s new and strange.
There’s a reason I’ve never felt this before, but I lose interest in the logic the second his hand goes to her lower back.
No.
I want to be the one touching her.
Now.
The guy moves closer, close enough to whisper.
She tenses as his hand dips.
I want to say I move because she’s uncomfortable, and it’s true. But I also move because I don’t like him touching her.
I cut through the space as casually as I can. I’m not afraid of a fight, but I’m not eager to court one, and I’d rather stay out of sight of my sisters.
I cut between a group of chatting friends and come to Deanna and the guy.
She looks up at me with surprise in her eyes.
I copy her MO—something smart and strategic—and mix it with mine—something fun and surprising. “Baby, how could you.” I wrap my fingers around her wrist and pull her toward me. “With him?”
The guy looks at the two of us with confusion in his eyes.
“I specifically said a redhead,” I say.
“A redhead?” she asks, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head.
“Yes, baby. I only had two rules. Any guy you want, as long as he’s a redhead and as long as I can watch,” I say.
She meets my gaze and raises a brow.
I mouth, “You trust me?”
She nods and looks to the guy. “He’s got freckles.”
“Freckles?” I scoff. “You think freckles are enough?”
“Isn’t that your thing?” She feigns a look of confusion, as if she can’t believe I’m not satisfied by someone who freckles instead of tans.
“No. Of course not.” I turn to the guy. “It’s not personal.”
He stares at me in horror, struggling to catch up. Then he does and his light eyes go wide.
Deanna continues the game. “Make an exception. Please.”
“It’s only two rules,” I say. “I know you love rules.”
She struggles to hold in her laugh. “What if we get a wig? Will that work?” She turns to the guy. “What do you think? Are you open to that?”
“No way!” I answer before he can. “The curtains have to match the drapes.”
“You know? I’ve got an early morning and I have to get out of here.” He practically runs through the crowd to get away from us.
