Kiss and Don't Tell(44)



Dressed in a pair of navy-blue chino shorts and a simple white T-shirt, I head down the hallway, slipping past her door and into the main living space. The boys are gathered at the table, plates of eggs in front of them, Stephan at the helm in the kitchen.

The chatter at the table slowly dies out as I walk by them, and I know I’m about to get shit because normally I wouldn’t be dressed like this. If Winnie weren’t here, we’d all be in a pair of athletic shorts and no shirt, but that’s not the case.

“Going somewhere?” Taters is the first to ask.

Stephan hands me a plate and I thank him.

“I offered Winnie something a little earlier, but she told me she has a protein bar,” he says in reply. I smile. He knew I’d want to know that. Good man.

“Thanks, man.”

I take a seat at the head of the dining table, knowing it’ll be easier to address all the prying eyes. Even Holmes seems interested.

“Winnie needs to go into town,” I answer while spearing a bunch of eggs and some roasted veggies with my fork.

“And you decided to dress up for that?”

“Figured I’d walk around town. I was considering bringing back some fudge for you guys.”

“Oh fuck, get the Neapolitan,” Posey says.

“Is there any other kind?” I ask with a smile.

Taters waves his fork at me. “You’re in a really good mood. What’s happening?”

“I’ll tell you what’s happening,” Hornsby says. He sips his water and then continues, “Our boy likes a girl. I think this is the first time since we’ve known him that he actually likes a girl, is truly interested in her.”

I’m not going to deny it. What’s the point? They’re going to notice the way I act around her, and what if I end up holding her hand in front of them at some point? I don’t need them making a scene about it.

What I don’t want them to know is who Winnie used to date. I don’t need the lecture about Bro Code, because even though Josh is my brother, he really isn’t. We don’t talk. We don’t see each other. He’s just another human in this world with whom I happen to share some DNA.

Nor do I want them to know that when I saw pictures of Winnie on my dad’s Facebook, how hot I thought she was. How jealous I was that Josh could land a girl like her. Yeah, fucking jealous, and before you start thinking this is some play to one-up my brother, that’s not the case at all.

I truly like Winnie. I think . . . hell, I think she’s cool as shit, and the more time I spend with her, the more I want to spend time with her. Her laugh, her teasing, her smile, her easygoing attitude. It works for me. And I could not give two shits what the guys think.

So, I keep it casual and say, “Yeah, I like her.”

“Oh damn.” Hornsby brings his fist to his mouth. “I didn’t think you’d admit it.”

“Yeah, I didn’t see that coming,” Posey says, but then winks at me. Jesus Christ, I knew he was the wrong one to confide in. The dude is a giant ditz.

“You like her?” Taters asks with skepticism. “You barely know her.”

“So?” I take a bite of my food. “If you take a girl on one date, you get to know her on that singular date, and you can make a general assessment if you like her or not. It can take one night to decide if you like someone. How is this any different?”

“I don’t know—maybe because she came out of nowhere,” Taters says, and I truly believe he’s still reeling from his own feelings, so this is not going to be easy for him. If he’s suffering, he wants all of us to suffer.

“Doesn’t matter where she came from, all that matters is she’s here now and I’m going to take advantage of the time I have with her.”

“Look at our boy,” Posey says with pride. “Taking what you want. Good for you, man.”

“She seems nice,” Holmes says, adding his two cents. I’ll take it.

“I like her,” Hornsby says. “If she weren’t digging you so much, I would’ve taken a crack at her, but I knew the first night she was here, there was no chance.”

I smile inwardly at that, because normally girls gravitate toward Hornsby. It’s easy for him, he doesn’t have to work for it. But not with Winnie. She found me. She picked me. Yes, I know I’m good-looking, but like I told her, I’ve never found it easy to know what to talk to women about. Small talk. Girl shit. I’m not smooth like Hornsby.

“Glad we’re having a guys’ trip,” Taters says with animosity.

“Dude, you need to calm down about that. It’s not as if we party every night with strippers knocking on the door. We relax here.”

“Yeah, and look at me, wearing a goddamn shirt at breakfast out of respect.” He plucks at his black Agitators shirt. “This is my own goddamn house; I should do what I want.”

“Then take your shirt off. Who gives a fuck, Taters?” I ask.

“I feel as though I’m walking on eggshells around here, and now I’m going to have to listen to you two giggle and flounce around in my own house while you get to know each other?”

Growing irritated, I ask, “Do you want me to leave? Want me to find another house to rent? Because I will. If you’re going to be a dick about this, I’ll leave.”

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