Page 13 of Busted Dreams

Wait a damn minute.

Jonah had been pretty adamant about not wanting to date Astrid. I narrowed my gaze on him. Either he was having second thoughts and had no game, or he was uncomfortable with being so close to a girl.

The toilet flushed, and I instinctively turned toward the hallway just in time to see Thatcher’s sister walk out.

“Oh hey! Astrid, cool to see you.” Trinity stopped short when she had a good view of the living room.

Over the last few weeks, we’d mostly hung out at my place, the guys dropping in when they had a chance. Thatcher even came a few times, but he had mostly stayed home to take care of his sister since she moved into his place full time.

We all knew his dad had passed, but he acted like nothing had changed, only he had a new roommate. But even that wasn’t really different than before. Which really made me wonder what kind of parents or parent he was saddled with.

Actually, this was the first time we were all hanging out with Trinity present.

“I was sitting there.” Trinity’s mouth pursed in a mew as she stopped in the middle of the floor.

And she stared at Astrid like she stole her favorite breakfast.

“Oh. Oh!” Astrid caught on to something I hadn’t noticed until that moment.

Then I mouthed ‘oh’ to myself.

Itried to jump up to avoid what was likely to be an awkward moment. Then Jonah clamped his arm over my chest to hold me in place. The heat of embarrassment climbed up the sides of my pale face.

“I haven’t seen Astrid very much lately. I’d like to visit with her,” Jonah croaked out, and jostled me a little closer to him in a graceless move. The fact that everyone in the room save Trinity knew he had just spent the last four hours with me added to the ridiculousness of the situation. It was like I was a human shield against Thatcher’s sister.

Trinity’s head jerked back like she was surprised by his unusual actions. Hell, I was surprised by his actions.

She moved her gaze from his face to mine, then his toned forearm at my throat, and finally landing on my feet her brother happened to be caressing as if he’d just rediscovered the gnostic gospels.

“Maybe I should—” I started to say.

“No!” Jonah all but yelled in my ear, startling me and everyone else in the room.

The raging heat in my face burned a little brighter as the open hurt on Trinity’s face pinched my heart. I’d had dinner with her and Thatcher one night, just us, and I’d seen her in passing a couple times. I hadn’t immediately clicked with her, but she was nice enough. And I wanted to be friends with her, even if only for Thatcher’s sake. It was obvious in our short acquaintance she had a wild streak.

It was fascinating actually. As an only child, I didn’t have any experience with siblings. But here were two people who grew up in the same home but were as different as night and day.

Thatcher gave my foot a squeeze, letting me know I’d zoned out. How had I even zoned out at such a tense moment?

“You can have this seat,” Beck pushed up from his chair on the other end of the loveseat and motioned to Jonah to let go. Then he plucked me from my spot, took my seat, and arranged me sideways over his hard thighs. Somehow, my feet fell right back into Thatcher’s lap. Or he caught them. At this point, I really had no idea what was going on.

She huffed and stomped over to the chair Beck had vacated, dropping down with a bratty flourish.

Also another side of her I hadn’t seen.

I peeked at Thatcher from under my lashes, not quite sure how to be in this current environment. He also looked shocked Trinity had acted that way.

“You okay there, Trin? It was just a seat.” Thatcher’s eyebrows lifted.

She composed herself, straightening her oversized sweater, and turned her attention to the TV show.

“I’m fine.” She opened her phone and started typing furiously. It was obvious she knew we were watching her, but she wanted us to think she didn’t care if we were here or not.

In the dim light of the TV, casting shadows of different colors across her form, this would be a perfect picture of loneliness with a slight taste of bitter. My fingers twitched to pull my phone out of my pocket. But I would never do that to Thatcher’s sister. Not without a good reason or getting her permission.

Beck slid a hand around my waist until his palm rested on my stomach, while Thatcher immediately started pressing his thumbs into my arches.

My body was a mixture of colliding emotions, intensified by someone other than just us in the room. I wiggled when they started moving their hands so they’d understand now wasn’t the time to fall into the typical boy frame of mind.

---