It all sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. “Where’s that from?”
“Remember, boys, no points for second place.”
That line didn’t help me either.
“It sounds familiar, but I’m not sure if it’s a movie,” Dad muttered, rubbing his face with both hands like he was trying to figure out what he was seeing.
You and me both, man.
I’d heard of people doing this, but witnessing it happening was something entirely different.
“It’s like I’ve got the answer right in front of me, but I can’t quite get it.” My brother hated not to have the answer to shit, so this came out of him like it was the most frustrating thing ever to happen, earning him a shoulder rub from Mom.
“Talk to me, Goose.”
Before I could say it, Marcus clapped his hands and yelled, “Top Gun. That’s what it is.”
“Damn it,” I groaned, flicking him the finger. “Must you always yell the answer first?”
“What can I say,” he shrugged smugly. “I’m the best of the best.”
“Son, your ego’s writing checks your body can’t cash,” she snapped, effectively dissing his ass at the same time as continuing with whatever scene she was trapped in at that moment.
All three of us who were awake and not Marcus smirked at him.
“You all suck.” He turned to leave the room but said over his shoulder, “And I’ll make sure your fiancée knows she sucks in the morning, too.”
God, I wish he hadn’t said that because it’d taken me a long time to fall asleep earlier with her next to me in bed, the thoughts of her ‘sucking’ torturing me.
Growling, I waved at my folks as they left and turned the light out, then rolled onto my side and scooted across the gap between where I was and where Sasha was wiggling around.
I told myself that the reason I pulled her into me and wrapped my arm around her was because I didn’t want her to hurt herself.
But it wasn’t the whole reason.
No, the whole reason was that little Sasha Adams-DeWitt was worming herself into a gap I didn’t know existed at a quick rate.
As a child, she’d intrigued me, and I’d struggled not to stare at her when she was around. I was too young and dumb to know what that meant back then, and that was probably for the best. Then, after I’d seen her again when I’d visited her the first time, I’d found myself thinking about her and trying to remember everything I could about her as a kid, as well as thinking over her reactions, how she looked, her hair, her nose, her eyes…
And since she’d moved in here, it’s like I’d been living in a mini hell because everything about her fascinated me.
I was sure I was at a point in life where I didn’t have time for a woman, but maybe I was wrong?
Shit happens, and that just fucking sucked because it always took me by surprise and messed with my plans.
“Show me the way home,” she mumbled, just as I was being dragged into the land of sleep, making me smile as I laced my fingers with the ones on her non-broken hand.
Chapter Eight
Sasha
Waking up with an arm around me was an experience I could say with confidence I’d never had in my life before.
Initially, I’d panicked, thinking I was being held hostage and tied to a dirty mattress, but then the last dregs of sleep stupidity had left, and I’d recognized the tattoos on the arm in question. Well, unless Jackson and Marcus were playing a joke on me, seeing as how they had similar tattoos.
Given that I was broken, I couldn’t slip out of bed and run away like I probably would have if I wasn’t. So, I was left with time to think about what the hell I was meant to do about this predicament.
I was limited, and I had to accept that. Jackson’s family were also somewhere in the apartment, and if they saw me pulling myself along the floor with one arm and one leg, they’d think I was crazy.
Stupid perfect hair, awesome eyebrow’d—
“Hell, yes!” I gasped, wiggling my way onto my back to look at Jackson.
See, my hair was high maintenance. It was curly and absorbed water like a sponge, so it took forever to dry. It also demanded expensive hair products, or it looked like I’d stuck my tongue in a plug socket.
But Jackson—his hair was perfect to the point of obsession. So far, I hadn’t witnessed him without it perfectly styled, and I wanted to know if he was like a Ken doll whose hair never moved out of place, or if he had to put some effort into it like the rest of the human species.
I also had serious brow envy and his seemed to be naturally perfectly shaped, and it was eating me up because Marcus was the same. His hair was slightly lighter than his twin’s, and he wasn’t as meticulous as Jackson was with it, but it was pretty damn close.