Page 71 of The Trouble with Wanting

Our conversation drifts to join in with the others, and I make sure to get in another s’more before all the supplies are gone. Eventually, Patty slaps her legs and excuses herself to go to bed. She and Mark hold hands as they head in, leaving me, Boyd, Bishop, and Bellamy to watch their parents.

“I love that their romance hasn’t died,” I say. “It’s not every day you see a couple like them still holding hands and flirting with each other.”

“Don’t remind me,” Bishop groans, his youthful irritation at seeing his parents be lovey-dovey clear in his tone.

“It’s sweet.” Bellamy emphasizes her opinion by slapping her brother across the chest. “Don’t shit on it. Most kids would kill to have parents like we do.”

Her eyes flit to mine for a second but quickly return to the chocolate and graham cracker sandwich she’s been nibbling on.

“Sweet, sure—it’s sweet as a fucking peach pie until you hear your parents having sex through the walls at night, or you walk in on them groping each other in the kitchen where anyone can see them,” Bishop says.

He makes a gagging noise as the rest of us burst into laughter.

“It’s funny until it happens to you,” he adds, pointing a finger at each of us. “And mark my words, you’re going to be coming to me with an apology someday.”

Boyd’s laugh dies off as he yanks me closer, tugging me to sit on his legs, my own dangling off the side of his chair as he tucks me in against his chest.

It’s a snuggly position, and as much as I want to keep my attention on the conversation, it isn’t long before my eyes start to droop.

I listen to the twins argue about something that has to do with groceries and a disappearing bag of Cheetos, but the thread of their conversation begins to get muddled as I sink deeper against Boyd.

“You still awake?” he asks, his voice low, the sound of it rumbling in my ear.

“Mmmmm,” I moan, pressing my face into him, enjoying the heat from the fire on one side and the warmth of Boyd’s body on the other.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Barely,” I mumble, wishing I could just snuggle into his chest and fall asleep.

I know he should take me back to my little house and my own bed right now, know he should say good night and give me a kiss and then leave.

It’s the smart thing to do.

But I don’t want to be smart.

What I want is for him to carry me up to his room here. I want to stay nestled against him and fall asleep in this home full of happiness and family and love.

Nothing in the world would make me happier, and as I think about how much I’d like that, I eventually drift off to sleep wrapped in his arms.

chapter sixteen

Boyd

I probably should have taken her home. It would have been the smart thing, especially after I told my mother the other day that I wouldn’t bring random girls to stay overnight.

But Ruby’s far from being a random girl, and as much as I’d like to say bringing her to my room is a last-minute decision, that would be a lie. I made the choice in my head as she sat in my lap outside, her body pressed snug against mine, her head resting beneath my chin.

Bellamy was watching us for a while as Bishop droned on in her ear, and when there was a lull in the conversation, she held up her hand, the back of it toward me, then dropped all of her fingers except one.

Her ring finger.

She wiggled it at me, a gleeful smirk stretched across her face.

“Mark my words,” she said. “I give it a year.”

I don’t know how to feel about my sister’s declaration. If she’d done something like that a few years ago—hell, even a few months ago—I would have shaken my head in firm protest.

But tonight, I kept Ruby nestled against me and didn’t say a word in response. I’m unsure whether my silence spoke for me or whether it was just silence, but I can at least acknowledge to myself that I didn’t jump in to deny anything.

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