Page 50 of Forever Mine
“You look like you could use a gallon of caffeine.”
Chuckling, I agree. “A swimming pool full, more like.”
I’m exhausted. Today about kicked my ass. When I got to Elijah’s last night, Ash was back and kept us up talking until after midnight. Then between my morning run, classes, and practice, I’m practically a sleepwalking zombie at this point.
Fallon cocks his head in that contemplative way he does where you don’t know what he’s thinking and motions for us to follow him.
“Come on. You can kick your feet up out back.”
Instead of going inside the house, Fallon leads us around the outside to the backyard. I’ll never get used to seeing it, no matter how many times I come here. Unlike the other Greek houses, Fallon’s frat sits on a massive plot of land. Enough to easily fit a swimming pool and tennis court. Things paid for out of the Montgomery family coffers—like a lot of other stuff on the CU campus. Fallon’s father is an alumni and a big donor. Then again, Phillip Montgomery is a narcissistic attention whore—Elijah’s description of the man, not mine—who loves to slap his surname on everything. Libraries, lecture halls, stadiums.
“Want anything to drink?” Fallon asks as we walk up the deck steps.
“I’m good.” Elijah looks at me.
“Bottled water.”
Fallon approaches a group of girls congregated on one of the love seats. A redhead, a blonde, and a brunette. I’m suddenly craving Neapolitan ice cream.
The redhead smiles broadly at Fallon and offers him her joint.
He takes it and tosses it into the bushes. “Get the fuck off my furniture.”
Her smile falls.
The blonde to her right stares at me as she yanks her friend up. Her eyes widen, and she whispers to the third girl, but it comes out louder than I think she intended.
“That’s Julien Jameson, the soccer player. He’s so freaking hot.”
If I knew that was the kind of attention I’d be getting from the calendars and promotional posters I was asked to do, I would have told the athletics director hell no and to find someone else.
Hearing her, Elijah hooks the back of my jeans and hauls me in for a kiss not suitable for public display. I’m all for it. I love it when he gets territorial and possessive.
“Nowthat’shot. Holy shit,” her friend says, craning her neck to watch as her friend shoves her inside the house.
Fallon tries not to laugh but does a piss-poor job of it. “Is that a new thing?”
“Annoying, isn’t it?” Elijah replies.
“Angel, you know I’m yours and no one else’s.”
Taking the seats just vacated, I pull Elijah down into my lap. His profile is illuminated by the strands of white patio lights that hang overhead, and shadows play over his features, highlighting his perfect jaw and the gentle curve of his lips. But it’s the chameleon shifting of color in his hazel eyes that I find fascinating. Greens turn to slate grays, then to smoky quartz, then back to green.
Elijah’s arm casually drapes around me, and he starts massaging the back of my neck. Like a release valve being turned, every ounce of stiffness drains out of my sore muscles, and I slump back into the cushions.
“You know if kitten is coming?”
I still find it weird that Fallon calls Liz “kitten.” I also don’t like that he’s asking about her. It means he’s still interested, and with her memories nonexistent, it gives him the perfect opening to do what he’s wanted to do since tenth grade—steal her away from my brother.
“Not that I’m aware,” I reply.
Fallon snaps his fingers at some random guy I’ve never seen before. “Chris, get me a beer and a bottled water.”
Chris runs inside and comes back out a minute later, drinks in hand.
“Anything else, sir?”
Elijah and I display synchronous shocked expressions at the “sir.”
