Page 22 of My Favorite Girl

The wrong thing

Everyone in the audience is applauding me. An entire room full of people in their finest attire are smiling my way with approval. They all loved my performance.

I stand from the piano, brushing out the pink tulle of my dress and take a bow. My parents join me on either side, and we pose for a photo that will be on the front page of every newspaper tomorrow, reporting on the success of tonight’s Forever Families benefit. We’re at the Central Park Boathouse and this is the first time I’ve been asked to perform at one of these events. It’s both exhilarating and nerve-wracking, being such a focal point of attention tonight.

Dozens of camera flashes go off. A male reporter joins us, speaking into a microphone, “Amabella, we hear Ally is in her senior year of high school and intends to audition for a spot at Juilliard next year.”

“Yes. We’re going to have our very own concert pianist one day in Ally. We’re very proud of her,” Mom responds, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and placing a kiss on my forehead. “We’re proud of all our children and their accomplishments.”

“Ally, it’s been just you and your mother for so long. How are you adjusting to life with four stepbrothers and a stepfather?” The reporter holds the microphone up to me, waiting for my answer.

I like accepting praise from the public. Answering questions is a different story. I’m always fearful of saying the wrong thing or my words being interpreted in a way I didn’t intend. It’s happened before and I know it will happen again at some point.

“I love it,” I answer, smiling and trying to sound confident. Forever Families is a noble cause, and as a Blackwood, I’m a part of the organization’s face. It’s just as important to me as it is to my parents to set a good example of a loving family and home. “I don’t see any of them as stepfamily. Josh is a father to me. Dan, Killian, Tyler, and Felix are my brothers.” My tummy flutters as I speak those words. The sensation travels lower, between the tops of my thighs.

I slept in Dan’s bed again last night. I often sleep in his bed, but it was the first time he’s done more than just hug me. The feeling of his hot palm still lingers on my skin, the way it slid up beneath my shirt and cupped my breasts. I wasn’t wearing a bra. He had full access to my chest and I’m still tingling over the way his fingers brushed over my nipples. I didn’t realize nipples could be so pleasurable. I moaned at the unexpected sensation, unintentionally arching my spine. My ass pressed back, and another startled sound left me when I felt how hard Dan was.

“Don’t do that,”Dan groaned against the nape of my neck when I started grinding. His free hand clutched my hips, pressing my ass firm to his cock but not allowing me to move.“We really should go to sleep. I couldn’t resist one feel. I haven’t jerked off in days. Goodnight, Queen.”

My eyes flew wide open in the dark room, hearing such a raw confession when sex has always seemed like such an off-limits topic for us. I felt like I was about to spontaneously combust, I was that hot from the thought of Dan jerking off. With much struggle, I ended up falling asleep hours later.

The memory turns into a pulsing ache deep within my crotch. My head is a fevered mixture of lust and shame. I scan the crowd of guests at the benefit, my gaze landing on Dan. His eyes are already on me, though I doubt he’s thinking about last night. It probably wasn’t a big deal for him, feeling my breasts or talking about masturbating. He’s been with lots of girls. I’m the virgin here who gets wet over the tiniest, most meaningless things.

Dan leaves his spot, and my eyes follow as he weaves through the crowd, walking farther away from me until I lose all sight of him. I don’t know where he’s heading; all I know is I want to be there with him instead of answering questions for the media.

I whisper into my mother’s ear, “Can I please be excused for the bathroom?”

“Yes, darling,” she murmurs, then turns back to Josh and the reporter and continues speaking with them.

I gather my sheet music from the piano, along with the neon Queen of Hearts card. I told Dan I wouldn’t let go of her, and I meant it. She comes everywhere with me, tucked away in my purse. Tonight, I propped her up on the piano stand to calm my nerves for my performance.

“Great performance, Ally,” Tyler calls as soon as I’ve stepped away from the limelight of cameras. I turn, finding him and his girlfriend, Harper, among the crowd, sharing a champagne at a high table.

They’re an attractive couple, both twenty-two. Tyler is always clean-cut, constantly dressed in suits and with his dark hairgelled back. Harper has long scarlet curls and exudes elegance. They’re nice people and always very welcoming to me. I don’t know much about either of them other than Tyler is studying business, Harper is a dancer with the New York City Ballet, and the pair stick to themselves at family events, having some issue with Felix no one can figure out. I assume they’re only here tonight for Mom’s sake.

“Thank you. Are you two enjoying the evening?” My question is too formal, but I’m unsure of what else to say to them.

“It’s lovely,” Harper says, her focus on the items in my hands. “Hey, isn’t that one of Dan’s cards?”

I look down and realize she’s referring to the Queen of Hearts. My skin is instantly clammy at the thought of anyone piecing together why I have this card and what it symbolizes. “Oh, um, yes. I found it on the ground earlier. Dan must have dropped it. I should return it to him. Excuse me.”

I race off, heading in the direction Dan went, having no clue if I’ll find him. The Boathouse is packed with people. I glance all around, searching, scanning the crowd, not spotting him anywhere until I step outside to a lonely section of the terrace opening out to the water.

He’s leaning one shoulder against the brick wall, typing something on his phone. A lock of dark hair hangs over his forehead. He’s recently graduated from high school and when I think back to the sixteen-year-old guy Dan was when I first met him, he looks so mature. His shoulders are wider, his muscles thick and defined from frequent gym sessions with his brothers. He has a thick layer of stubble. There’s a one-year age gap between us but I feel like such a girl beside him, instead of a woman.

Dan looks up, finding me, and places his phone in his suit pocket. “I was just texting you to join me, Queen.”

I smile at the name he’s taken to calling me in private ever since the night of my panic attack at that beach party. I adore the affection in his voice every time he speaks it. Tonight however, the affection is mixed with something else. His voice is deeper, much like the groan from last night when I pressed my ass against his dick.

His gaze trails down my body, lingering on my breasts and hips. “Did you wear that dress for me?”

My chest swells with a heavy breath, liking the way he looks at my body. How he doesn’t attempt to hide that he’s admiring me. No one is close enough to witness any of this interaction but we’re out in the open and he really shouldn’t be looking at me like this.

“You know I did.” I shouldn’t have said that either. I’m too consumed with thoughts of last night to care.

His eyes flick back up to mine and he studies me for a long moment as if trying to decipher something. “The things you said to that reporter were pretty fucked up. Calling me your brother.”

“I’ve called you my brother before and you didn’t have an issue with it. I think maybe you even liked it.”

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