Page 13 of Pucking Revenge

I roll my eyes. This guy has got to be kidding me.

Me: Not home.

SL: Where are you?

Of its own volition, my mouth turns up. My heart picks up its pace too, because I’m about to piss him off, and I’m enjoying the prospect of it far too much.

Me: Hanging with Brooks.

With that, I silence my phone and slide it into my back pocket. I refuse to let him ruin anything else for me today. When I look up, Brooks is watching me from the bar. Around him, his brothers are chatting and laughing. He winks and holds up his glass, the universal sign for Do you want another drink?

I smile and excuse myself from the ladies. Tonight has been a good night, and I’m going to enjoy it with my best friend.

FOUR

BROOKS

As we step into the elevator in our building, Sara suggests we hang in my apartment rather than hers.

I’m surprised by the request. I thought she’d be exhausted. She was up late last night, and the insanity that occurred tonight at Beckett’s house even had Finn and the puppy passing out early. And all of that aside, we never go to my apartment. We always hang in hers. And I’m normally the one inviting myself over.

So I’m a little thrown. Especially when she ducks her chin and tucks a strand of hair that’s escaped her ponytail as she asks, like she’s suddenly shy around me.

“You want to pick a movie?” I drop my keys into the bowl by the door and head to the kitchen to grab drinks. A Powerade for me because I need to hydrate for practice tomorrow, and a bottle of water along with a glass of red wine for Sara because she likes to have one before bed.

“Um, let’s get another episode of the Creek in,” she says, tugging at the blue Bolts blanket I leave draped over the back of the couch just for her. The woman is always cold.

I settle beside her and hold both the water and the wine out to her. Unsurprisingly, she grabs for the wine with both hands.

With a chuckle, I set the water on the table in front of us. “Make sure you drink that before bed, or you’ll have a headache tomorrow.”

“Whatever you say, Brookie.” She pulls her legs up under her and gives me a wicked grin.

Blowing a breath out through my nose, I grit my teeth. When she talks like that, I want to pull her over my lap and spank that teasing smile right off her lips.

But I’m the good boy, so I push those thoughts out of my mind and stretch my legs out on the ottoman in front of me, crossing one ankle over the other, while she starts up the teenage drama. “Remind me of what happened during the last episode.”

It’s been over a week since the last time we watched this show. She’s been on a romantic comedy kick lately.

“It was the one where Pacey bought her the damn wall. God, I just love him. It was so obvious they were always endgame.”

I let out a big sigh and drop my head back. “Sar, if you want me to watch the show, you can’t keep telling me what happens in the last episode.”

She sips her wine unapologetically, her eyes dancing. “I don’t understand how you never watched this. It’s insane to me.”

“You’re younger than me. How did you watch it?”

She sighs as she curls further into herself. “Reruns. And I had a lot of time, Brookie.”

This time the nickname doesn’t even faze me.

Sara has only offered me glimpses of her life outside of Boston. Hell, I barely know anything about her life outside the Bolts. For a woman who lives out loud and unapologetically, she’s notoriously quiet when it comes to personal matters. But from what I’ve gleaned, she had a lonely childhood.

While I have an abundance of siblings, I understand the feeling. Most don’t get the sentiment, but constantly being surrounded by people can get lonely too. So I reach over and pull her closer.

Her wine sloshes dangerously close to the rim of her glass, and she gasps, bringing her other hand to it to hold it steady. “If I spill on your couch, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Shut up and cuddle me, Sar.”

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