Page 109 of Staying Selfless

“Yeah?” he says slowly, questioning why I’m staring at him like I am.

To be honest, I’ve always gotten by on being the brother that gets more attention for the way he looks, and I don’t need Marc stepping in on my territory. He has the brains, nice-guy personality, and wit. He doesn’t need this too.

“Let me get some.”

“Ali’s in the bathroom, but I’ll have her bring it down.” He types away on his phone, shooting her a text.

I pull a beer from the fridge, popping the top before holding it out to my brother for a cheers.

Ali comes strutting down the stairs wearing a light pink dress, similar to the color of Logan’s nails.

“Woah,” my brother exhales, eyes locked on the little New Yorker.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Yes.” He nods his head, eyes wide. “Take that as a compliment.”

“Bertoli, you’re a girl,” I teasingly state.

Ali tosses me Marc’s hair product before flipping me the bird, causing the satisfied smile on my lips to grow. I thoroughly enjoy pissing her off, the same way she does to me.

“Aye,” my dad interrupts, walking into the kitchen. “I saw that.”

“Shit. Sorry.” Ali’s cheeks turn pink.

“Don’t be. He probably deserved it.” Laughing, he pulls a beer from the fridge.

“Where’s mom?”

“She’s down there at the ceremony site. Your Aunt Molly is already a crying mess.”

“I’ll go check on Logan,” I tell my family as I cautiously walk out of the room.

“EJ, where are your crutches?” my dad asks.

“I’m not bringing them tonight.”

“You’re bringing them.”

“I’m fine.”

“Logan!” my dad shouts from the kitchen. “Tell my son he needs to use his crutches tonight.”

I roll my eyes as my dad tries to use my girlfriend against me, knowing it’s going to work.

“Eli, don’t be ridiculous. You’re using your crutches!” Logan shouts from the bathroom.

I glance back to my dad as he brings his beer up to his smug smile before reaching out and connecting his fist to Marc’s, my brother’s expression seeming just as satisfied.

“You all fucking suck.” I limp into our room in defeat.

As I open the bathroom door to put some product in my hair, I get stopped in my tracks. My hand is still holding the handle to the open door, but my feet aren’t moving, my eyes aren’t blinking, and I’m not sure if I still have a pulse.

Logan’s exposed back is to me, her golden skin seeming even smoother today as a silky green number has the privilege of gracing her perfect body. The shiny material clings to her hips, dipping in at her waist, and from the reflection I can see in the mirror, sits perfectly on top of her tits.

Her red hair is ever so slightly curled, the shine of it competing with the texture of this dress.

This dress.

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