AllFreeNovel
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I know that’s not true though. But unlike me, he’s a lot better at hiding it from the others.
Between his gangly build, and floppy hair, the dark wash jeans he loves to wear, over-sized band tees, and black Vans… He’s got this grungy sort of skater boy vibe going on, despite the fact he can’t skateboard for shit.
He tried last summer and fell flat on his face. He ended up needing six stitches under his chin. If he tilts his head back, like he is now, mid-laugh, you can still see a faint pink scar.
“Okay, okay,” Izzy says, clapping to get everyone’s attention. She crosses her legs, and leans forward, reaches toward the center of our makeshift circle and grabs the bottle.
She’s only wearing a tank top, and leaning over like that puts her cleavage on full display.
Gross.
I quickly look away, but not before catching Mason as his face reddens and he does the same thing. Only I know he’s not disgusted like me.
She’s my sister. Of course I find it gross.
But when I glance to my left, catching Casey dressed similarly, before quickly darting my gaze away, I can’t help but wonder if it’s more than that.
Why does Mason get all weird about boobs, and I don’t? Is that another thing I’m behind in? Will I get what all the fuss is once my voice fully drops too?
Izzy says, “I’ll go first. It has to be a real kiss, okay? On the lips.”
“With tongue?” Mason says, snickering.
In my lap, I twist my fingers together, rubbing furiously at each knuckle.
My sister smacks his arm with her free hand. “No, not unless you want to.” Her face turns pink and she pointedly stares at the bottle. Her brow furrows and she twists her hand, letting the bottle spiral like a top.
Bringing my knees up to my chest, I wiggle my ankle, nerves eating at me as I watch it slow, then stop.
On Waylon.
Waylon makes a grossed out face, and Mason falls back against the couch laughing.
“No tongue, asshole,” he says without any heat.
Waylon shoots him a glare, but leans over him at the same time Izzy does the same. Over their heads, Mason’s gaze finds mine and he wags his brows.
My foot’s restless jiggling slows, and I roll my eyes and look away, fighting a smile, just as a loud, dramatic smack of lips fills the room.
“Ugh!” Waylon exclaims, wiping the back of his hand over his lips.
“You’re such a little baby,” Izzy teases. “As if we’ve never touched lips before. Did you forget we’re married?”
Mason gasps as if he didn’t already know this story. I just shake my head at their ridiculousness, vaguely remembering their “wedding.” I officiated it. We were five. As far as I know, that was the first and only kiss they shared. Well, until just now.
Waylon settles back against the other side of the couch and shakes his head at her, but there’s no denying the smile he’s trying to hold in. Like always, his dimples give him away. “Shut up. We divorced the second you cheated on me with him.”
“Oh whatever, it’s your turn.”
Waylon scrunches his nose and reaches for the bottle. His fingers twitch over it, and I look up just in time to catch him glancing my way. He quickly ducks his head, averting his gaze, jaw pulsing with how tightly he clenches it.
A funny feeling builds in my chest, and I curl myself into an even tighter ball, telling myself it’s just in my head. It’s just Waylon being Waylon. It’s not personal.
It’s not like he and I were ever super close, not like him and Izzy are, especially after Mason entered the picture. But we were closer than whatever we are now, which isn’t much of anything.
But when he gets like this, all darting looks and ticking jaws…
Well, it’s impossible not to wonder what’s going through his head.
