Come to Me Quietly (Closer to You #1)(45)
Author: A.L. Jackson

Christopher elbowed Jared to get his attention. “I’ll go grab us a couple of beers. You want to get us a table?”

“Sure.”

Christopher lifted his chin toward me. “You want anything?”

“Um, would you get me a Coke?”

It hadn’t taken much for him to convince me to be DD.

He grinned, walking backward. “A Coke it is.” He turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Jared’s attention trailed him until the second he was out of sight. As soon as he was, Jared reached for my hand, squeezing it as he drew it to his mouth. A subdued groan vibrated against my skin. His blue eyes were all warm when he looked down at me. “I’ve been dying to touch you for hours. Do you have any idea how much, Aly?” He pressed my palm to his nose. When he pulled back, he was biting at his full lower lip, something like confused wonder slipping through his expression as his eyes roamed over my face. A smile suddenly widened his mouth, and he folded my hand in his and tugged. “Come on, let’s find a table.”

My grin was uncontrollable as he wove us through the crowd. I loved this feeling, like we were natural and meant to be. We found an open pool table in the far back. He picked a cue and helped me do the same, and I watched as he leaned over to rack the balls. He grinned back at me, all sly and cocky.

This side of Jared was so unexpected, this boy who smiled so effortlessly, as if for the moment his pain had been suspended and he’d been granted a reprieve. I wondered if he noticed the stirring of joy I witnessed in his eyes or if he was so conditioned he could only recognize the bleakness glutting his heart and mind.

I had the overwhelming urge to approach him from behind, and I thought that was surprising, too. I wanted to run my hand up his back and feel his strength as it rippled and bunched beneath the cover of his shirt, to be intimately reminded of what we had shared last night. I was different with him. Better and worse, too confident and incredibly naive. Jared made me desire things I’d never desired before. It confused me, left me both vacant and filled. Almost complete.

Jared frowned at me as if he’d caught the perplexity of my thoughts. Self-conscious, I dropped my gaze and distracted myself by chalking my cue stick. The band struck up, lifting the din in the bar to deafening levels. Christopher returned with the beers and my soda.

“Here you go, man.”

“Thanks.” Jared accepted his, flicked off the cap, and tipped it in Christopher’s direction before he took a long swig. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

“I’ll sit out the first game,” I offered as I leaned up against the wall, sipping my Coke from a straw, “but I play winner.”

Christopher grabbed his cue and grinned. “Well, sounds like you’ll be playing me, then, little sister.”

Taunting laughter fell from Jared’s mouth, his blue eyes gleaming with mirth. “Ah, feeling pretty sure of yourself there, huh, Christopher? I’d say we need to put a little wager on this.” He pulled a twenty out of his wallet and slapped it on the table.

“Oh, you’re on.” Christopher dug out his wallet.

They picked up their play while I hovered near. We laughed and the guys drank. Jared was good, but so was Christopher. The two of them battled in this constant harassment, flippantly slinging low-blow gibes and sordid insults at each other that neither took to heart.

By the end of the game, Christopher was tucking Jared’s twenty in his pocket, all too happy to rub it in. “Jared, will you ever learn? You should know I always end up coming out on top.”

Jared leaned up against the wall with an easy grin as I stepped in for my game. How good would it feel to claim him openly, this beautiful boy, to stroll up to him, lift up on my toes to brush my lips across his? For a fleeting second I wondered how he’d react, how Christopher would react.

I glanced at Christopher, his black hair unruly and his green eyes sharp. Without a doubt, that would be a really bad idea.

I shook off the thoughts and feigned confidence as I sauntered up to my brother. “You’re in so much trouble now,” I said, tipping my chin up in mock challenge. I held back laughter that threatened to work its way free. The only time I’d ever beaten Christopher was the one time he let me.

He quirked an amused eyebrow and his green eyes sparkled. “Really?”

“Really,” I said with a resolute nod.

It took him about five seconds to annihilate me.

Jared dragged a high barstool over and set it up near the wall for me. “Here, hop up here so you can see better while I kick your brother’s ass in this next game.” His smile was loose as he gestured for me to sit. He reached out to help me climb onto the chair. And I assumed it was the few beers he’d already consumed that had lowered his walls, because his touch was gentle and lingered a beat too long. His hand gripped at my side and his thumb caressed along one of my ribs.

That simple display of affection quickened my heart. Because with him, I wanted it all. There was no disguising my yearning as I looked up at him, his eyes so soft as they looked down on me. I watched as he swallowed, the heavy bob of his throat; then reluctantly he turned back to Christopher. “All right, my friend, time for me to show you how it’s really done.”

Another hour passed, and I sat on the stool slowly swinging my legs, watching the two of them. I’d fully bailed out of the good-natured contention three games before, saying I’d been humiliated enough for one night. Christopher won another game while Jared won two. They drank a few more beers, their laugher and jests increasing, their banter so much like it used to be. A hum of satisfaction pulsed into every crevice of my being.

Jared had stayed and I thought maybe he was happy.

Christopher was obviously having a really good time. Probably a little too much of a good time, as his jests started verging on the edge of obnoxious. It only made me laugh. With his bottle lifted high, he polished off what had to have been his seventh beer of the night. He slammed the bottle down on the small table before he leaned in to attempt a ridiculous jump shot. He fumbled and knocked the cue ball into the side pocket.

“Ah, shit,” he yelled through his raucous laughter as he stumbled back. He knocked into a guy trying to take a shot at the table behind him. Christopher jerked around, stretched out a hand to steady the guy he’d run into. A casual apology rolled naturally from his mouth. “Hey, sorry, man.” Christopher’s grin was wide.

But the other guy was furious. His hand fisted on his cue stick, aggressive as he sneered. “What the f**k, you little prick?”