Page 22 of Need You to Choose Me

Screw Alex and his vibrator.

*

Bodhi looks comicallyout of place in my mother’s small floral kitchen. The floors are slanted and uneven, and anybody six-foot-four and above would be grazing their head on the ceiling; Bodhi being one of them. The curtains, dish towels, and washcloths are all the same dusty rose color—Mom’s favorite. The cupboards and cabinets are all mix-matched shades of cream-colored wood, and the countertops are worn dark brown that need serious updating.

Sebastian offered to pay for an entire kitchen remodel, but our mother loves it as is even though some of the backsplash is chipped and discolored, a few cabinet handles keep falling off, and the dishwasher doesn’t always work right. The only thing she agreed to let him buy her is a white fireclay sink that she’s wanted for as long as I can remember.

“I can’t believe you’re still hungry,” I comment, watching him slap the top piece of bread onto his turkey sandwich. He ate almost an entire bag of Doritos on the way here along with the beef jerky we shared.

He turns to me with a grin and then takes a large bite from the fresh sourdough bread Mom loves making. “I’m a growing boy,” he remarks, chewing his food. “Plus, I’m used to eating at least five-thousand calories a day. Just don’t tell mytrainer about the nacho cheese chips. I promised I wouldn’t eat processed shit.”

I roll my eyes and grab my phone from the counter to let Mom, Skylar, and Sebastian know I’m home, then guide Bodhi into the living room to watch a movie with me since he’s insistent he doesn’t have anywhere to be for a while. It’s not the first time he’s been here. My brother had him over for Christmas last year when they struck up a fast friendship after Sebastian was drafted to the Rangers. Bodhi is from Burlington, not too far from the small town that Sebastian and I grew up in that has two stoplights, one mediocre gas station, and a lot of cow pastures.

“No Marvel this time,” he tells me with a knowing look in his eye. Thanks to me, his entire team calls him Thor and usually hides random pictures of Chris Hemsworth where he can find them. In his locker. In his bag. Mixed with his gear. It’s hilarious whenever I get pictures sent from Sebastian with images of the character hidden away. “I’m tempted to chop off my hair to get everybody off my back.”

I gasp dramatically, reaching over and pinching a few loose strands of his blond locks between my fingers. “Don’t you dare! Your hair is like Beyonce’s legs.”

He blinks at me.

“They’re her best feature,” I explain. “I think she even got them insured. Though, that could be a rumor. I wonder if you could do that with your—”

He smacks my hand away with an amused snort. “Not happening. I only keep my hair like this because I’m too damn lazy to get it cut.”

A lot of pictures of him released by sports magazines consist of those bulging muscles in a tight T-shirt, and another piece of his bulging in some extra tight briefs, with a sexy manbun atop his head. Not many guys can pull it off, but he can. “I think you look hot like that.”

One of his brow’s quirks as he gives me a subtle once over. “Yeah?”

I grin. “You know how attractive you are. Even with short hair, any straight woman or gay man would try getting with you. Plus, it’s not just your hair that makes you look like Thor. It’s the muscles. The eyes.”

Damn those eyes. If a girl isn’t careful they can get lost in that shade of blue. They’re far more vibrant than Alex’s—uniquely his own. I’ve often wondered if it was because Bodhi had less to hide. Alex’s eyes are always stormy, a mixture of gray and blue combined when he’s in a bad mood. Which is ninety percent of the time.

Bodhi leans back trying not to look cocky but fails when his lips twitch upward at the corners.

My phone buzzes, pulling my attention away from the cocky right winger.

Unknown:Have you used it yet?

Alex.

My lips twitch. He’s persistent, isn’t he?

Unknown:I’m sure you’re seeing these

Unknown:I know you hate me right now, but I bet that only makes you wetter when you touch yourself and picture me

Jesus. Why do those words make me squirm?

Because he’s not wrong.

Ugh.

“Boyfriend?” he teases.

Choosing to ignore Alex, I click my screen off and toss my phone onto the coffee table. But the damage is done. There’s an undeniable feeling between my legs that he caused.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I inform Bodhi.

I nudge him with my elbow playfully as he finishes off his sandwich, only to giggle when he starts elbowing me back. The little game back and forth has me losing my balance and laughing as I drop backward onto the couch cushions. Yanking on his arm to try catching myself, he topples over until half his body is draped on top of mine and we’re staring at one another.

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