Page 28 of Blinding Lights

“The fact that we’re friends is the reason I have to avoid him. Something tells me he’s going to be all flirty, and that’s not what friends do.”

“It’s Atlas. I may not know him as well as you do, but that man would flirt with a streetlamp if he’d had enough to drink.”

A hint of a smile lights up Henley’s face and I grin proudly. That’s the reaction I was hoping for.

“It’s three events—the rehearsal dinner, the wedding, and then the hangover breakfast. I have faith in you. You’ve never had trouble keeping men in line. Grab his…ah…balls.” I pause, scrunching my nose at the visual before shaking my head and trying again. “Grab his balls and throw them in your purse,” I state firmly. “Make him behave like only you can.”

Henley tries unsuccessfully to suppress her amusement until she’s practically bursting at the seams. “How are you ever going to get back out there if the word ‘balls’ makes you uncomfortable?”

“For one, it wasn’t the word; it was the visual of you removing them and throwing them into your purse. And two, I told you, I’ve given up on men.”

“You can say that as much as you like, Lil. It’s not going to stop me from bringing it up. You know that, right?” She tilts her head, her eyes locked on mine, and a resigned sigh escapes me.

“I know. It’s because you love me.”

“That, and you’re fun to tease.”

“Ha-ha.” I poke my tongue out and sashay away, purposely changing the music to a song she hates, then I get to work restocking shelves and my mind drifts.

I love this store. I love getting to work with my best friend every day, and being able to change my hours if I absolutely have to. The problem with owning a bookstore is that we’re selling a fantasy. And I don’t mean the genre; I mean the idea. The chance to escape into a world that isn’t your own. A world beyond your wildest imagination.

Because of that, I find myself fantasizing often. Only it’s usually about the life of a fictional character I’ve read in a book or seen in a movie. Today, it’s way too close to home, and I wish I could rid my mind of the unforgettable imagery.

Beckett’s compelling green eyes. The way his lips had curved into a smile that felt reserved for me and me alone.

His broad shoulders and tight⁠—

My daughter’s sweet giggle reaches my ears, and my head snaps up to find her and Henley’s mom walking toward me. My mom usually looks after Ava when she’s not in school, but she wasn’t feeling well today so Trudy stepped in. Once again, I had a Myers family member coming to my rescue.

Ava adores Trudy, and from the sparkle Trudy has in her eye, I know the feeling is mutual.

“Ava! What a surprise.” I open my arms for my daughter and she runs toward me, leaping into my hold.

“A surprise?” Trudy frowns momentarily before schooling her features, replacing her confusion with a smile. “It’s almost six.”

“What?” It’s closing time? My eyes flash to the window and sure enough, it’s dark out. Where the hell did the rest of the day go? Surely I haven’t been daydreaming this entire time.

Jesus. Maybe I shouldn’t be going to the game tomorrow. Seeing Beckett at the wedding is going to be hard enough.

I was right. I shouldn’t be here. The last however-many-minutes of this game have been hell. I’ve spent the entire time trying to pretend I’m not thinking about my best friend’s off-limits older brother, and failing miserably. Even with my daughter to distract me.

After getting a drink from the back of the box—the one Beckett paid for—I put on a smile and head toward Henley and Ava, my heart pounding harder with every step, bringing me closer to the view of the field.

“I root for my brother,” Henley tells Ava, lifting her higher on her hip. “But I always want my Phantoms to win.” She winks and I huff out a laugh.

“That sounds like something I can get behind too,” I interrupt and immediately regret it. Why would I say that out loud? I don’t need to root for Beckett. He’s not my brother. Phantoms are my team. They’ve been my team since I moved here in college. Before that, I didn’t really follow football. Truth be told, I don’t really follow football now either. So really, why am I here? Other than to torture myself.

Ava eyes me curiously and I hold my gaze. “You don’t like the Storm.” She offers me a lopsided frown. “Why would you root for them?” Of course I’d be called out by a five-year-old.

“Well, Auntie Hen’s brother is on the Storm, so don’t we have to cheer for him too?” My smile widens and I pray I don’t look as crazy as I feel while Ava purses her lips in thought.

“I guess so,” she says slowly, clearly not convinced.

I’m about to say more when Trudy calls out to Ava, beckoning her over with a plate full of food, and she wiggles herself out of Henley’s arms, making my chest warm. We don’t need a man. We already have more support than anyone could ever need.

And yet… With Ava in good hands, I turn back to the game, my gaze seeking Beckett without my permission. And lucky for me, he has possession of the ball, allowing me to avoid suspicion. I’m watching the game. Like everyone else.

Beckett launches the ball down the right side of the field, and my eyes stay locked on him rather than drifting with the play. A collective cheer rings out among the crowd, snapping me from my daze seconds too late.