Shelly pops up from her seat and steps up to me. I expect another handshake and generic greeting. Instead, she surprises me. Her arms wrap around me and squeeze tight. “If he hurts you, I’ll kick his ass,” she whispers, then steps back and holds me at arm’s length. Her eyes don’t leave mine until I nod. “You may not remember me. We went to different high schools, but I saw you near the track when I’d stop by to watch Micah run.” I stiffen. “We were a year behind you.” Shelly points to Cora and Gavin.
Cora rises from the lounger and offers her hand. “Nice to formally meet you, Peyton.” Gavin follows suit and shakes my hand.
Just as I open my mouth to return the sentiment, Autumn hollers after Spartan—who just stole food off the table—then excuses herself.
Awkward, party of one?
“Shell, scoot over,” Micah says. For a split second, I silently beg her to move closer to Micah and leave me the open end of the seat. But my plea goes unanswered as Shelly slides farther from Micah. He pats the cushion. “Come sit.”
I shuffle between Shelly’s legs and the unlit fire bowl to sit on the lounger. When my butt hits the seat, I lay my hoodie over my lap and tuck my hands underneath, where I fumble with the threads without prying eyes.
“How’s your Sunday been?” Micah asks.
All eyes land on me, and I remind myself to inhale every other second. Cora and Gavin look at me with kindness as they curl into each other. Shelly practically bounces next to me. Everyone appears genuinely interested in my answer.
I can do this. Have nonwork conversations with Micah and get to know these people.
“Somewhat boring. Reese and I hung out.”
Micah’s whole frame goes rigid at the mention of Reese. Is that jealousy I detect? Interesting. May have to keep that tidbit in my arsenal.
“Reese Triggs?” Cora jumps in.
I peer up at her and smile. “Yeah. You know him?”
“Just remember him from high school. Nice guy.”
“The best,” I say, with dreamy eyes.
“You two still attached at the hip?”
“When we’re home. We both work odd hours, but try to have at least one day off together.”
The lounger shifts beside me and I turn to see if Micah is getting up. He isn’t. Instead, he inches forward, leans closer with his eyes on me, rests his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands. “You live with him?” The growl behind his words doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone.
I bite my cheek to resist smiling. His jealousy flashes like a neon sign in a porn shop window. It’s amusing and annoying at the same time.
“Yep.” I pop the p. “For years. Did I not mention that?” Not that I need to mention anything to Micah. We are just friends. My inner circle—not that I have much of one—and romantic life aren’t his business.
“Can’t say I remember you telling me,” he says with too much bite for my liking.
“Well, he does. He also happens to be my best friend. If that’s a problem for you…” I lift my brows in question.
“It’s fine,” he mumbles.
Beside me, Shelly shakes with silent laughter. And for a beat, I wonder if she and Cora tag-teamed to rile up her brother on purpose. If that’s the case, we will be friends in no time.
Ready to jump on the ‘terrorize Micah’ train, I open my mouth to add gasoline to the fire. But Jonas cuts me off as he yells the burgers, brats, and chicken are ready.
The vultures flock to the buffet, but Micah and I stay seated a moment longer.
His vibe has gone from antsy to excited to irritated in minutes. Not sure what he expected when he invited me here, but I won’t sit around and be the reason he pouts. He either needs to accept who I am and how I live or leave me be. I refuse to change who I am for another person. Especially Micah Reed.
I bump his shoulder. “You good?”
He rotates his head, but doesn’t face me fully. Licks his lips. Eyes on the fire bowl a moment before his gaze meets mine. In those bold blue depths, I see more than expected. Curiosity and confusion. Regret and fear. But most of all, desire.
The ground wobbles. My heart beats faster, harder. My breath all but forgotten.
It’s no secret I thought Micah lusted after me. Hell, as much as I despised him, his eyes continued to visit my dreams. By now, I had memorized the constellation the gold flecks formed in his eyes.
But that was all fantasy. All in my head. Right?
Apparently not.
“Sorry for my reaction. It was juvenile,” he admits.
“Yes, it was. I forgive you.” The blue in his irises brightens. “Don’t do it again.” His brows pinch above his nose. “Act jealous.”
“Peyton, I—”