“What you need is to relax—cut loose—party,” Micah exclaimed. Always needing physical contact of some sort, he scooted his chair an inch closer and put his arm around me.
Suddenly, the reason for this gathering began to make sense. “I’m not much in the mood for a party,” I admitted honestly.
Micah’s impish grin sent a warning through me. They weren’t going to be easily brushed off. An internal groan went off in my head.
“Hey.” A familiar voice came from the house. I didn’t have to look up to know who it was. A trail of tingles danced up my spine, and as if they moved of their own accord, my gaze lifted. Brock strutted toward us, his eyes locking with mine.
Why did he have to look so fucking good? Drop-your-panties-instantly good. He had a way of making basic clothes like jeans and a T-shirt look phenomenal.
A few awkward seconds stretched over the group as Brock and I stared at each other. Someone finally cleared his throat, breaking through the silence.
Brock took the only empty seat. At least he hadn’t brought the bitch with him. I didn’t know what I would have done if he had brought Ava here of all places.
Definitely made a scene. And I wasn’t quite ready to show the Edwardses just how crazy I really was.
“You guys ready?” he asked, the white shirt stretching across his chest. I told myself not to think about what was under that shirt, the hard planes of muscle and swirling ink of tattoos.
My thoughts betrayed me.
“We’re working on it,” Grayson replied.
Brock’s eyes zeroed in on me once again, and he arched a brow. “She being difficult?” he asked.
Suspicion grew in my belly, and I frowned. “What the fuck? I am sitting right here, you know. You don’t have to talk around me.”
Brock eyed me closely. “I see what you mean.”
My gaze swept around the circle, realizing this shit was planned. “What is this, some kind of party intervention?”
Micah crossed his arms over his chest. “Hell yes, Josie Jo.”
“You can’t hide out here forever,” Mads said. Whose side was she on anyway?
“Yes, I can,” I clipped out. “Besides, it’s only been a week.”
“Two weeks,” Fynn clarified, as if I needed him to. “You were injured the week before.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re all going to gang up on me, aren’t you, until I give in?”
“Pretty much, Firefly. Save yourself the trouble and just say yes.” It was the first time he’d spoken directly to me since strutting his fine ass into the Edwardses’ house. Not that I noticed his ass or anything. I was on a Brock hiatus. Indefinitely. So I reminded myself.
If only he didn’t smell so good, which I wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t chosen to sit beside me, a deliberate maneuver on his part. Here, when it was just the group, he didn’t have to pretend; not that I gave a shit.
But apparently, I did. Or at least, my body did. His nearness fucked with my ability to stay mad at him.
“You guys suck. Does anyone remember what happened the last time I went to a party?” I pointed out.
“Don’t let the bastard keep you from doing things you love, from living, from experiencing life. We’re seventeen. This is the time in our life when we are supposed to party.” Mads’s eyes glittered with strong intensity.
Everything she said was something I’d already thought myself. But thinking was entirely different than executing.
“Fuck yeah,” Micah added at the end of Mads’s speech.
I couldn’t help but shake my head and try to cover the smile that tugged at my mouth. Leave it to Micah to make a joke out of everything.
“You, Josie James, should not be contained. We’re not going to let that asshole keep you in a box,” Mads declared.
Damn right, I shouldn’t. My lips curled into a half smile. “Thanks, Mads. I fucking needed that.”