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“It doesn’t mean, we can’t be. It means, we shouldn’t be.” As the sensible words emerge, I experience a vivid memory of a disappointing phone call that has me practically begging Jasper for his understanding. “This exchange can’t fall through. Not again.”
The amusement tickling behind his prying questions fades as true confusion takes its place. “What do you mean, again?”
That last bit slipped out. This is all too heavy for a Friday night.
“Never mind. Why are we even talking about this? We’re at a party!” My forced enthusiasm only results in him frowning. “Come on, Jasper. Let’s talk about something else.”
We’re both silent for a moment, but when he relaxes, so do I.
“I’ll let it go. For now.”
I stick my tongue out at him, and he laughs. Then, I laugh because it feels good to ignore the heavy things for a bit.
“Do you mind if I cut in?”
I repress a shiver at the smooth cadence of that voice.
Jasper smirks before literally bowing out, like he’s a knight at court. “’Tis up to the lady, my liege.”
Ben steps into view, pointedly ignoring the ridiculous antics of his roommate, and offers me his hand.
Despite the laughter, I still maintain the weight leftover from the reality reminder. I know, if I let myself fall into Ben’s arms and dance the night away, I’ll likely do something stupid. So, with a strength of will giants would envy, I shake my head, smiling to soften the rejection.
“I think I’m good on the dancing. But let’s go see what else this party has to offer.”
The disappointment in his eyes cuts at me. I want to step forward, clutch his hand, and wrap the other around his neck as we sway together. But he’s already let it drop back to his side to slide into his pocket while Jasper straightens behind him, smirking at me.
Pushing through the discomfort, I turn back to the kitchen where I’m sure I saw people walking down a set of stairs earlier. With more effort than earlier, I weave through the growing crowd.
I trust Ben to follow me even if I can’t trust him not to tempt me.
10
HOLLY
There’s a pool table in the basement.
Jackpot.
Ben and I dominate it for the next hour.
Playing as a team, we methodically take down each and every challenger. Of course, I look ridiculous the whole time, having to bend my knees and squat to get level with the table. If I went the more traditional route of bending at the waist, then all the competitors would get a nice view of my ass. Luckily, it’s okay to look silly as long as you’re winning.
And I always win.
“Eight ball, side pocket.” My words are as steady as my hands, and with just a gentle coaxing, my prediction is made a reality.
“That’s it!” Ben holds up his triumphant hand, to which I give a hearty high five. “So, who are we gonna take down next?”
He glances around the room, and a couple of guys approach the table with intent in their eyes. But two bottles of water mean I have some pressing matters that need attending to.
“Sorry, Ben. I’ve gotta take a bathroom break. You’ll need to find another partner.”
He places his hand on my lower back while handing off his pool cue to a curvy girl, who eyed him every time he bent over the table, like he was the one wearing an outfit on the verge of revealing his tight butt.
Not that I notice things like that.
“Can’t do it. It would be unlucky to break up the dynamic duo.”
