Dance for Me(33)

After forcing his friends to move down so I can have the chair directly beside him, Brody pours me a glass of beer from the pitcher sitting in the center of the table.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he says, leaning down to whisper the compliment in my ear.

“As opposed to every other night?”

The kiss he places on my temple is sweet and full of affection. “You know what I meant.”

I do. Brody always appreciates the way I look, even when I’m at my worst. Finding his heavy thigh under the table, I squeeze it. “Thanks.”

His eyes catch mine, and he tips his head. It would be so easy to let myself fall for him. Brody is an easy guy to love. He’s charming and sweet, cute and gentle, and the best part of all—we’re friends. We don’t even have to try to get along because the connection is already there.

Laying my head on his shoulder, I glance down the table to where Annie and Jason are seated. She’s looking at me with raised brows, and I raise mine right back. I don’t know what message she’s trying to send me, but I hope she gets mine—I don’t need anyone’s approval on how I choose to live my life.

“Good to see you made it, Jason,” I say, raising my voice so he can hear me over the music. “We missed you last time.”

He lifts his chin, a gesture I’ve always hated, but only when he does it. “Hey, Joe.”

That’s about the extent of our exchange. Jason and I used to get along, almost like friends. He was cool, someone I could laugh and joke around with. Then I found out what he was really about. Not wanting to cause trouble or hurt anyone, I distanced myself, but when I saw how his behavior was affecting Annie, Jason and I had a heart-to-heart. It didn’t go well, and Annie still doesn’t know anything about it, but, needless to say, Jason and I will never be friends.

The waitress arrives with two platters piled high with appetizers and sets them down in the middle of the table, along with plates for everyone. Brody fills mine first, and my eyes widen at the amount of food he gives me.

“I can’t eat all this.” Hell, I can’t even see the plate.

“I’ll eat what you don’t,” he says, smiling as he chews on a chili-covered fry.

“That’s why he did it,” Mitch says. He’s seated across from Brody, and his hazel eyes twinkle with mirth. “I bet half the food on your plate is intended for him. He just wants to make sure none of us get any.”

Brody pats his flat stomach and grins shamelessly as he chews a stuffed potato. “I’m a growing boy.”

“That’s nothing. You should see him at breakfast,” the one who vacated his seat for me says. I think his name is Trent. “If you’re not first at the table, there’s a good chance you won’t eat.”

“This is how it starts,” Mitch says, shaking his head. “A little extra fries here, and a couple more chips there. Before you know it, you’ve become his unwilling partner in crime while all your friends go hungry.”

I cover my mouth to keep the beer from coming back out as I laugh. “Who says I’m unwilling?”

Mitch’s jaw drops and Brody belts out a laugh as he slings his arm over my shoulder. “Yeah, Mitch, who says she’s unwilling?”

Spending time with my friends is always cathartic. The next couple hours pass fast, with a lot of food and even more drinks shared among us. Brody always finds a way to touch me, whether it’s brushing my hair off my shoulder or putting his arm around the back of my chair and absently tracing his fingers down my arm. By the time our empty plates are taken away, he’s given up trying to keep up any pretenses of being just friends, and pulls me into his lap.

I don’t mind. We’ve always been close, and I love Brody’s affectionate side. It’s always there, but it’s way more intense when he’s been drinking.

Resting my cheek on top of his head, I push my toe into the floor, rocking us gently to the music as we watch our friends dance.

“Do you want to dance with me?”

Closing my eyes, I shake my head. “I like it right here.” The truth is, I’m so tired I could fall asleep right now. That’s what alcohol does for me, makes me sleepy.

Brody cinches his arms around my waist, pulling me in tighter to his chest. “Me, too. Your boobs make amazing pillows.”

Jerking back, I slap his chest. “Ass!”

“What? They do. They’re like little fluffy clouds of heaven.”

I slap him again. “My boobs are not little.”

He chuckles, pulling me back so he can nuzzle his scruffy cheek against my cleavage. “Nope, they’re not. They’re exactly the right size.” He hums contentedly, and I feel a little...weird letting him get this close.