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JETT
“This feels wrong,” Casey muttered. I didn’t argue because I fully agreed with him.
“Trust me,” Mal muttered, sipping his beer. “You guys have everything ready for this weekend?" I scowled.
“Did you or did you not see how she left today?” I didn't hide the anger in my voice.
“Jett—"
“I’m serious, man.” Anxiety crept up the back of my neck.
“I know you are.” He sighed. “And I’m serious about her, too. We all are.” He pointed among the three of us.
“But she just left looking like we kicked her puppy,” I pointed out.
“I know.” His square jaw clenched before he glanced in Casey’s direction. “You’re quiet.”
“I told you this feels wrong,” Casey repeated himself, and I grunted.
“What if she doesn’t get the invite?” I asked.
This part of his stupid plan felt stupid now.
There were too many variables we couldn’t control.
“It’s already been delivered to her sister’s place,” Malcom shared, setting his beer down on the counter.
“But—"
“No buts. Trust me. This is going to work.”
“Let’s say she gets it but decides not to go to some fucking sex club with strangers? What then?” Casey asked, his patience clearly gone.
“She’s going to go,” Malcom said with so much confidence part of me wondered if he was faking it.
“I don’t know, man.”
“Our job here is to have faith in her that she will go. That she will take a chance and meet us there.”
“She’s going to meet us there and not know she’s meeting us.” I couldn’t hide how frustrated I was.
“Come on, man, she will. She’s ours. I’m telling you?—"
“I swear to fucking Christ, if you brag about how you made her come one more time,” Casey warned. I started to nod.
“I’m not bragging, and it's not my fault all you two did was kiss her.”
“When I have her, I don’t want to stop with foreplay and kisses,” I mumbled.
“Same,” Casey agreed.
“Fine.” He shrugged. “Trust me. Please? I trusted in you guys that we should make a move. Our plan is going to work.” He patted my back before Casey and I watched him walk out and into the room we would hopefully all share come Monday.
We both knew he was adding the small finishing touches to the space himself. I glanced at Casey. His stark light gaze connected with mine.
“To trusting the process?” He lifted his beer bottle. I grunted with a nod and clicked my bottle against his.
“To trusting the process,” we both muttered and took a long, healthy chug.
