Page 21 of A Game of Ruck
So I do what feels natural, I kiss her.For the first time.In front a fucking audience.
But the second my lips touch hers?They all fade to black.
Annabeth is all that matters.And I plan to show her how much.
Chapter Five-Luca
“Okay,well, I can see this is going to be super fun,” the bride-to-be says just as I end my kiss with Annabeth.Reluctantly.
“The first thing on our itinerary is a boat excursion, and it leaves in ten minutes.Annabeth?”
“What?”my girl replies, breathless and staring at me like she can’t believe what I just did.
“You don’t still get seasick, do you?”mean girl number two asks.
“Um, I-I don’t know,” she responds.
“No worries, Angel.I got you,” I murmur and squeeze her shoulders before we follow her cousins and their dates to the dock.
I don’t really want to go for a boat ride.
I want to stake my claim so thoroughly this Lisa chick and every other backhanded bridesmaid here forgets they ever doubted she could pull a man who looks like me.
It’s fucking ludicrous.Annabeth is a knockout, but even if she wasn’t, so what?Looks aren’t everything.
I could be a total asshole.In fact, I’m sure I have been once or twice.
Annabeth falters a step, and I wrap my arm around her waist.
“You okay?”
“Um, yeah, I just.I wasn’t prepared for that,” she whispers for my ears only.
“Don’t overthink it, Angel.”
“You two coming?”Lisa’s voice slices through the tension like a cheese knife at a vegan charcuterie board.“The boat’s already boarding.It’s super exclusive.”
I want to ask if the boat comes with flotation devices for egos, but Annabeth tugs on my hand before I can open my mouth.
“We’re coming,” she says, too cheerfully.
“Do we have to?”I murmur as we follow the herd toward the private marina.
“Unfortunately, yes,” she mutters back.“Lisa planned a whole breakfast cruise.Welcome cocktails.Hashtags.Matching towels.You know.The full Bridezilla package.”
“Charming.”
She glances at me, her lips twitching.“You’re really not used to this level of drama, are you?”
“Sweetheart, I’m Italian.I was raised on drama.I just prefer mine with fewer hashtags and more pasta.”
She laughs—actually laughs—and I swear I’d wade through a thousand bridal itineraries to hear it again.
When we reach the boat, I help her on board like a gentleman, which earns me a few surprised glances from the peanut gallery.
We’re handed drinks within seconds—champagne mimosas for her, some fruity nonalcoholic bullshit for me—and directed toward the bow where white loungers and cushions practically screamInstagram this.
Annabeth perches on one, tucking her legs under her like a goddamn goddess in a sundress.
