Page 43 of The Road to Finding Us

“No clue what you’re talking about.” I try my damnedest not to look in her direction when I swear I hear her familiar laugh. This bar is absolutely packed, but I could pick out her laugh in the midst of a crowded anything. It haunts me, causing my dick to stir in my pants while sending unease through my stomach at the same time.

I definitely fucking do not like hearing her laugh aimed at any dickwad other than myself.

“Bro,” Anthony begins as if he’s a fucking surfer and not from Kansas, “I’m talking about the fact that you haven’t been able to look away from Maverick’s sister for the two hours we’ve been at Lenny’s.”

My shoulders rise defensively as I pin him with my stare. “Bullshit.”

The whole table laughs, causing me to slump down the booth in frustration.

“Maverick wouldn’t like you looking at his sister like that,” Anthony offers, staring right at me with a cocky grin on his face. The look on his face makes me want to punch it right off. Not too hard, just enough to get rid of his shit-eating grin.

“Oh, piss off,” I say, finishing off the rest of my beer and slamming it down on the table. I’m only two beers deep, but I wish I’d had more to help ease my pissed off mood. I have a desire right now to be Leo-passed-out-in-the-middle-of-a-parking-lot drunk. Anything would be better than sitting here basically sober, getting drilled by my friends about watching my best friend’s little sister—as said little sister (who hates my guts) presses her boobs so far into the bartender’s face, his nose is bound to get buried.

“Pretty sure Maverick is too deep in his own shit to care about his sister right now,” Tristan mumbles.

My eyes flick to his curiously. I didn’t think anyone else had noticed the shitstorm Maverick has created for himself. I love my best friend. He’s been my dude since the day we moved in together, but he’s also got himself in a bit of a mess at the moment. I’d love to blame the blonde-haired bombshell who steamrolled her way into all our lives, but it isn’t even her fault.

It’s Maverick’s fault. And Selma’s.

The two of them have been too comfortable in their relationship for years to stop to realize they’re basically best friends who are telling everyone else they’re dating. He’s her safe place, and she’s something he can protect. It seems like the perfect relationship—but it isn’t. I’ve broached the subject with Maverick before, but he wouldn’t even humor me with the conversation.

Selma, on the other hand, is appearing to become more aware.

And now that we’ve thrown Veronica into the mix, there’s a ticking time bomb about to explode. Veronica is every bit opposite than Selma. She’s jaded, sarcastic, closed off, but there’s a certain chemistry between Maverick and Veronica none of us can ignore.

I’m nervous for what might to happen to my friend group.

Tristan’s right. Maverick does have a lot to deal with right now. Which is why I’m trying my damnedest to ignore Lily’s presence at Lenny’s tonight. But a guy can only have so much restraint. And mine is wearing very thin right about now.

After Lily and I hooked up over the summer, she kept good on her promise. The girl fucking hates me. Or is damn good at pretending she does. She’ll never miss an opportunity to lay into me about something—my major, the girls I bring home, the way I exist. If I’m breathing, you can bet it’s irritating her.

All of it pisses her off and she’s not afraid to let the world know it.

Sometimes I wonder if she’s exhausted by the theatrics of it all. I love to spar with her every now and then, loving the way I can rile her up so easily, but sometimes I want to drop it all and have a meaningful conversation again. To have her look at me the way she looked at me on that dock—before it all went to shit.

She’s pissed off at me for doing the right thing.

My eyes lazily drag to her spot at the bar. And I can’t lie and say I’m not bothered by the way she’s giving the bartender bedroom eyes.

I’m two seconds away from leaving the booth and handling it when an ice-cold hand tightens on my bicep.

“Hi, darling,” Cassidy flirts, running her long nail up the skin of my arm.

Fucking fantastic. What else can go wrong tonight?

I try to scoot deeper into the corner booth. Unfortunately for me, I’m stuck at the end of a booth full of assholes who actually work out and take up too much damn space. There’s not a whole lot of room for me to go anywhere.

“Not in the mood, Cass.” I don’t even bother to look at her. She’s one of the many women I’ve hooked up with, and I know by her tone that she wants a repeat. But I can’t give her that. The more I try to erase Lily from my mind by getting lost in another woman, the more it fails.

I’m stuck in a standstill where I don’t want anybody else, but I can’t have her. A fucking dilemma. My poor dick is not happy with my heart.

“C’mon, Aspen. We have fun together.” Those sharp nails dig into my chin as she grabs it, forcing my head to look at her.

I take in her face that has entirely too much makeup caked onto it. She’s beautiful without it, but it isn’t my job to tell her that. A month ago, I would’ve been ecstatic to tumble in the sheets with her again. She’s fun, but recently, I haven’t been in the mood for random women at night.

I look her in the eye and say, “I’m good.”

She squeezes tighter, bringing her face close to mine. So close that, to prying eyes, it would appear we might kiss. I lift my chin quick enough that it falls from her grasp.

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