Logan smirked, going right back to where he’d left off. “What about partying? Nate’s ready to throw a rager. We were going to do one at home, but we’re all up here now.”
Mason stood, taking my hand in his. “We’re going to have the party tonight, but whatever trouble your friend is in, I might have to sit this one out.” He looked carefully from Taylor to Logan.
Logan’s lips formed a flat line.
Taylor nodded. “That’s completely and understandably fine,” she said, looking at Logan. “This is about your future.”
Mason nodded.
I felt relieved.
The only one who seemed to want to protest was Logan. His eyes found mine and narrowed. “You haven’t said a word. What do you think?”
I frowned. “About what?”
“What I need help with. Those guys are assholes. They almost put Delray in the hospital.”
“You’re kind of exaggerating.” Taylor bit her lip and looked at me. “But Jason was hurt bad. And I do think they’ll do it again.”
“Decision made. We go and fuck ’em up instead,” Logan announced.
“Yeah, without me,” Mason countered. “I can’t fight. Probably never again.”
“Come on. For real?”
“Yes,” Mason ground out. His hand tightened over mine, and I looked up in concern. Logan was pushing him. Mason always wanted to be there to cover his brother’s back, but he couldn’t. He had to stay under the radar, and it was killing him.
I moved in front of him, pulling my hand free. I folded my arms over my chest and felt Mason’s hands fall to my waist. “Stop it, Logan.”
“Stop what?”
“Being a dumbass. You’re looking for trouble because you’re bored. You know it.”
He bristled. “Delray was beat up. Taylor’s mine, so that means he’s mine. How can I—”
“There are other ways!” My patience snapped. “And fine, whatever. Go beat the shit out of them, but stop making Mason feel guilty about it. If you want his help, do it another way. If you don’t, then respect his decision.”
Taylor laughed. “I just got a glimpse into your guys’ future. Logan trying to get shit going, Mason trying to be smart about it, and Samantha finally delivering the last word on it.” She whistled under her breath, giving her boyfriend a wolfish grin. “You guys will never lead boring lives. Ever.”
Logan shot a grin back, moving to the kitchen and scooping an arm around her waist. He pulled her against him, half lifting her in the air. “Only because you’re going to be there right with us.” He wrapped his other arm around her and buried his face in her neck.
She shrieked in laughter, hitting his arm. “You know that tickles. Stop it!”
Logan pulled back, a pleased look on his face, and grinned down at her. “Just wait till we get back to my place. I’ll show you what tickles. I’ll show you real deep how some things can tickle.”
Then he glanced around, a teasing smile on his face. “Are we ready to party?”
We were ready to party.
The music pounded.
Cain University students, football players, and students from the other private college in town filled our house. The booze flowed, and everyone was having a great time.
Mason sat at the bonfire with Nate and some of his football teammates. Logan stood behind them, holding a beer and throwing horseshoes with Matteo as his partner. They were playing against two guys I didn’t know, and there was a lot of shit-talking going back and forth.
I stood behind the outside bar, filling drinks. I saw some of my floormates from freshman year, but our friendships had faded last year. They’d gotten busy with their own lives, and I was with Mason and Logan. That should’ve been enough for me. Right?
I studied Mason as he listened to Nate. The bonfire lit up his face, but also cast such darkness over his chiseled features. My heart lurched, and I felt it start to move up to my throat. I tried pushing down whatever emotion was there, filling me up. It wasn’t a good one; that I knew.
“Do you moonlight as a bartender now?”
Taylor slid onto one of the barstools and flashed me a grin. She was teasing, but our eyes caught and held as a shared memory passed between us. There’d been another party and another bar we’d hidden behind not long ago.
I laughed and pointed toward an empty jar. “Maybe I should put a sign in front of it for tips?”
She snorted, crossing her arms on the counter. “At this rate, you might get some. People are drunk—like, really drunk.”
A girl shrieked, and we followed the sound. A guy chased her around the yard. She was half-naked—her breasts hanging out and her jeans undone. Her hair was messy and her lips smudged, but she followed that shriek with a laugh. She flew past the bar, and I wasn’t the only one who stopped to watch her. Most of the guys took notice.