Page 91 of A Little Secret
He would. I know he would. The idea alone makes my heart all but thump right out of my chest, and I suck my lips between my teeth, considering it, but tear my attention from his face and stare at the LAU logo on his shirt instead.
“Yo, Thorne!” someone calls from the kitchen.
Griffin looks down at me, appearing torn. I don’t blame him. He was inside me thirty minutes ago. Now, we’re supposed to pretend like we’re only friends? Yup. This is weird.
“Offer’s still on the table,” he murmurs.
“Go on, Thorne.” I shove him again, keeping my tone light. “You can come find me later.”
“Is that an invitation or…?”
“Go,” I say, exasperated.
“I mean, I’d prefer if Icame, but whatever you say, Fin.” He lifts his chin toward whoever was calling him from the kitchen and moves past me, letting his fingers brush against mine as he leaves. Tingles race up my arm, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from chasing after him and insisting he pin me to the nearest wall.
The firm muscles beneath his T-shirt bunch and flex with every step he takes away from me. I shake off the view, clear my throat, and scan the area for a distraction when I spot some of my friends. Dylan’s tucked near the fireplace. Reeves’ arm is around her shoulder as he nurses a beer while Mav and Ophelia stand across from them, creating a half-circle. Together, they laugh with each otherlike it’s just another Game Night. And maybe it is…for now.
The question is, where’s my brother? And has he already told everyone about what happened in the locker room? Not that I would care. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, it’s…out of the bag. Isn’t it? So why am I pretending I’m not into Griff? And even if they don’t know, they will. Eventually. So…why put off the inevitable?
Forcing my feet to move, I head to my friends near the fireplace. Once they’re within earshot, I call out, “Don’t worry. You can start the party now. I’m here.”
Ophelia turns around, laughs, and pulls me into a hug. “Hey!”
“Hey! So, what’d I miss?” I ask.
“Nothing much,” Ophelia answers. “Only that Dylan finally got a call from her lawyer.”
She lets me go, and my jaw drops as I turn to Dylan. “Are you serious?”
Nodding, Dylan scoots her glasses along the bridge of her nose, her relief palpable. “Yup.”
“And?” I prod. “The drug possession charge?”
“I’m officially off the hook. I mean, I was already officially off the hook, but now I’m officiallyofficiallyoff the hook.”
“What about Reeves’ dad?” I continue, mentioning the asshole who not only planted cocaine in the back of Reeves’ car in hopes of screwing him over, only for Dylan to take the fall instead, but also used his position as a police officer to torture his son for years until Dylan came to his defense. Yeah, there’s a thing or two I’d love to do to Reeves’ father, and most of them involve a rusty spoon and the man’s balls.
“That’s the best part,” Reeves interrupts with a shamelessgrin. He hooks his arm around Dylan’s shoulders and tugs her into his side. “They kicked my dad off the force.”
My jaw drops. “Are you serious?”
“Yup,” Dylan answers. “We never have to worry about him or any of the messes he made ever again.”
“No freaking way!” I squeal. Tackling them in the middle of the family room, I give Dylan and Reeves a huge hug. Lia joins me, forming a Dylan and Reeves-centered sandwich as we celebrate their gigantic win. Seriously. This is amazing, and I couldn’t be happier for both of them.
Squirming, Dylan says, “Okay, okay, let me go! I can’t breathe!” through bouts of laughter. After we follow her order, she fixes her skewed glasses again, smooths out the LAU jersey swallowing her whole, and turns back to me. “So, how was your chat or whatever?”
“Chat?” My brows bunch. “Oh! Yeah, it was good,” I lie. “Have you guys seen Raine or Ev by chance?”
“Yup,” Lia answers. “Everett looked like a constipated moose as soon as he walked in, and Raine followed him to the back of the house. Then they both left like bats out of hell.”
“Cool, cool, cool.” I rock back on my heels and pull my phone out to text Raine.
“PS, we were just talking about you,” she adds.
My thumbs stop moving across my screen, and I peek up at my half circle of friends. Each of them is staring at me, and boy, would I give my left boob to know what they’re thinking. Okay, that’s a lie. Griffin likes my left boob. He likes my right boob, too, but it’s beside the point.
Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I ask, “Oh?”