Page 3 of The Downside of Love
Trying to loosen him up, I nudge him with my elbow. “Think you’ll be one of them?”
“No. No distractions,” he answers curtly, sipping his beer. Talk about a good time, this guy is already primed to tamp down any fun that comes our way.
“Jesus, dude, might do you some good to occupy one of those damn rooms. Come on.” I nod toward the balcony. “Let’s check outside.”
We make our way past a sectional full of people and out to an expansive deck that looks toward the dark and peaceful forest, the party a disturbance to the naturally serene setting. To the left there is a sitting area full of people and to the right, a pool table.
Pool on a deck. You don’t see that very often. Working our way to the back, I push past a few people just as I hear a roar of laughter by the pool table. Looking over my shoulder, I take in the scene behind me.
Two women I can’t quite make out stand with their backs toward me, and two guys holding pool sticks look like they either lost or are about to lose, based on their irritated expressions. Situating myself against the rail of the deck, I take a sip of my beer while eyeing the game, interested in the outcome.
And that’s when I see her.
Turning around, her hair floats down over her shoulders in a wave of brown, luscious and plump lips grace her face, and she wears a smile that would bring any man to his knees. She’s fucking gorgeous.
Standing a little taller, I keep my eyes trained on her, watching her every movement. Studying her. The way she jokes with her friend, the subtle push of her hair behind her ear, the sparkle in her eye when she smiles. She’s someone you know can change your entire life with a bat of an eyelash.
I need to know who she is.
Bending at the waist, she leans over the pool table and lines up a shot. Her little tongue peeks out past her lips, eyes narrowing in total concentration. With a light push forward, her stick hits the cue ball and narrowly misses. Smiling brightly, she snaps her finger in disappointment, looking cute as fuck. Retreating to her cup, she takes a sip and jokes around some more with her friend, as the other team tries to make their next shot. Not paying attention to the men, I keep my gaze fixed on her, on the way she tilts her head back when she laughs, or the way she wraps her arm around her friend’s waist, trying to get the other team to mess up with their loud antics.
She’s fun.
She’s a good time.
She’s so goddamn beautiful.
And there is no way in hell I’ll be leaving this party without her number programmed into my phone.
Wanting to stake my claim, I nudge Colby in the arm, drawing his attention toward the pool table. He glances at me briefly before turning his attention toward the pool table. I’m about to point out the brunette when I see his gaze latch on, completely and utterly directed where mine was on the brown-haired beauty a few feet away.
Shit.
Looking back and forth between them, I watch Colby’s face change. His hard-cut features soften, his shoulders relax, and for the first time, I see vulnerability in his eyes when he looks at her.
My breath catches in my chest, and the grip on my cup tightens as I realize we’re interested in the same fucking girl.
There is no denying it, especially with the way his entire expression morphed the minute he laid eyes on her.
But maybe . . .
Maybe we’re not looking at the same girl. Maybe there’s an off chance he’s looking at someone else. Maybe one of the guys?
Who am I fucking kidding?
Needing to clarify exactly who he’s looking at, I say, “Hey, check out those girls playing pool over there.”
The blonde is on the far right lining up a shot while the brunette takes a sip from her drink off to the left. Following Colby’s gaze, I confirm that he’s solely focused on the brunette and her every movement.
Fuck.
He’s interested, infatuated almost, and fuck if I can do anything about it.
Colby is my boy, the guy who’s spent his four years at the Academy watching over me, making sure I made my classes and didn’t fuck aroundtoomuch. He’s helped me study, spent hours tutoring me, training me so I made all my marks, so I didn’t experience the wrath of my father.
Because Colby knows what it’s like to feel another man’s anger, to be on the receiving end of their indignation. It’s ugly, and it’s not something you want to be wrapped up in, especially when you’re young. But even as a twenty-one-year-old, I want nothing to do with the constant badgering my father throws my way.
Colby has shown me what true brotherhood is all about, and I would do anything for him.
