Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
Berlyn
The doorbell rings and my hands are already sweating.
I’ve changed three times since I got home.
First, after my shower into an old ratty t-shirt that hit me mid thigh and sleep shorts that have seen better days.
Then again once I remembered that Ezra had offered to come over with Jude to fix my AC.
I’ve embarrassed myself enough when it comes to laundry today. There’s no need to look like I’ve stolen clothes out of an old man’s trash can to really reinforce the idea that I don’t know how to do it.
But then the second change of clothes felt like I was trying too hard.
Like I was hoping to catch their eye and thank them for their help in a way that would end up on PornHub.
Even the thought makes my face flush in embarrassment and something else.
Something a little dirtier. Something that I would never verbalize. To anyone. Ever.
My front door is thrown open, making me jump and startle from my thoughts. I pause my hands from where I was smoothing out the oversized band shirt from a concert I went to last year and look up in a panic as Summer storms through the now open front door, a smirk on her face.
“You’re totally panicking aren’t you?”
I drop my hands, clasping them behind my back. “What makes you think that?”
She doesn’t even bother with an answer as she fixes her gaze on me. “You gonna tell me what it is that has you sweating like a whore in church?”
A wheeze somewhere between a gasp and a laugh gets stuck in my throat and I start coughing, staring at my best friend in disbelief. “You can’t say that,” I choke out.
Unfazed, she only arches a brow at me. “Why not? It’s true.”
I clear my throat, trying to stop the fit of coughing that has assaulted me and find my inner peace. Have I ever known such a thing?
Probably not.
My hand is clammy as I run it over my face. Okay, definitely not. Peace and I are virtually strangers. That’s not going to stop me from trying to find some and not make a complete ass out of myself in front of the guys. Again.
“I have no reason to panic,” I say. To convince her or myself is anyone’s guess.
Summer’s smirk spells trouble. “Is this your audition for captain of the Fake It ‘Till You Make It squad?”
Yes, I almost find myself nodding as I chuckle with her. “I thought you were here to help me,” I whine. “Not make me more flustered.”
“Hey,” she argues, “I got a laugh out of you. Aren’t you already feeling better?”
I lift my shoulder in a half shrug. “Not particularly.” My hands are still sweating. I still feel like I’m wearing the wrong thing, and I know—just know— I’m going to embarrass myself as soon as Ezra, Weston, and Jude walk through my front door.
It’ll be the biggest foot in mouth in history. Probably anyway.
Summer sighs, wrapping her arm around my shoulders as a warm breeze sends strands of our hair into my face. “What exactly about these guys fries your brain so intensely?”
I huff, brushing our hair out of my face and glare at her. She knows exactly what. “You mean besides their panty melting good looks?”
A throat clears behind us and I close my eyes. Nope. This can not be happening.
“The door was open,” Ezra explains and I can hear the amusement in his voice. Not even five seconds with him in my house and my foot is already halfway down my throat.
If I don’t open my eyes, none of this is real. I don’t have to turn around. Don’t have to see them. We can just pretend I no longer exist. Maybe I never really did. I mean, right now, not existing sounds perfect.
Summer smacks my arm. “They can still see you even if you can’t see them, idiot,” she chides.
“It was worth a shot,” I whisper, making her snort and several enticing chuckles sound off behind me.
The heat from my cheeks spreads to my ears and I just know I must be the shade of an overly ripe tomato by now. I slowly spin on my heel to meet three dark and dangerous gazes locked on me. I don’t even know what that means, but somehow it fits them perfectly.
Jude smirks as his gaze wanders over my frame in a move that would make me shirk away from most guys, but feels almost endearing when it’s him.
Probably because he looks so hot in his ripped black jeans that show off only a hint of the ink that decorates his legs while his muscular arms are fully on display in their colorful glory.
“I don’t know,” he drawls, making me snap my attention back to his face. “I much prefer being able to look at you.”
What’s redder than a tomato?
Whatever that shade is? That’s now my face. Probably my chest and arms and even my legs too. Can legs blush?
Summer elbows me in the side, but I can only stare at her helplessly. How does one respond to that? Was it flirting?
Is Jude flirting with me?
No, impossible.
He’s just being nice, like he always is.
“Thank you for coming,” I stammer. Anything to change the topic of conversation.
Jude’s smile only widens and I catch Ezra subtly shaking his head as he turns his face away from me, but not quick enough for me to miss his equally entertained smirk.
I sigh. At least, they’ll never be bored in my presence.
“Don’t make it weird, Berlyn,” he teases, which just about guarantees I’m about to make it weird. Well—weirder. “Friends can like looking at each other.”
Summer nods her head vigorously. “I also like looking at Berlyn,” she exclaims, breaking up the tension and making a giggle spill past my lips.
“Atta girl,” Jude praises, and a different kind of heat rushes through my core. Just when I thought I had the blushing under control.
“This is my friend, Summer, by the way,” I introduce her, making a point to not completely forget her presence this time.
“This is Jude, Ezra, and Weston,” I introduce the three brothers who could not be any more different from each other.
With the exception of the realistic and colorful designs that swirl across nearly every inch of their exposed skin and the fact they tower over both Summer and me.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Summer greets easily.
Their responses highlight their stark differences.
Ezra adjusts his black rimmed glasses before reaching his hand out to shake Summer’s.
“It’s our pleasure,” he says, dipping his head in acknowledgment.
“And my apologies for not introducing myself to you earlier today.” His words are as calm and collected as the man himself.
I’ve never known him to be anything other than polite and yet succinct with his words.
Jude doesn’t smile at Summer, but he gives her a nod of acknowledgment. His shaggy blonde hair falls into his face as he does and takes his attention back away from her as he runs his hand through it to fix it. He catches me observing him and winks.
I scrunch my nose in response, quickly turning to focus on the last, and quietest, of the brothers.
Weston hangs back from the rest of us, lingering near the front door that still hangs open, letting in what small breeze there is.
He doesn’t even look in Summer’s direction at the introduction or Ezra’s words.
In fact, the whole time they’ve been here, his face has been buried in his phone, minus the small smile he gifted me with when our eyes first met.
I’m not even wholly sure he’s listening to the conversation around him.
Maybe I didn’t embarrass myself in front of all three of them then? Maybe he was indifferent enough to miss the whole humiliating ordeal.
Jude lifts the dark duffel bag in his hand and gestures over his shoulder. “The unit is over here?”
Oh right. The whole reason they came over. I nod and take the lead to show him where it is. He asks a few questions and it almost lulls me into thinking it’s not strange for them to be in my house. Almost like they belong.
“Can I get you guys anything to drink?” I offer, belatedly realizing I’m a shit host. I was raised better than that—though better may not be the correct word. I do know how to be a proper host though. And so far, I’m failing miserably.
Weston shakes his head without looking up from his phone which makes Ezra nudge him. All it accomplishes is Weston looking up from his phone and meeting my gaze before shaking his head again. At least I’m not the only one that is getting an elbow to the ribs.
“I have lemonade, water, and Vanilla Coke,” I add as an afterthought. Options are always good.
Summer plops herself down on my faded gray couch, sinking into the worn cushions. “I’ll take one of your fancy Vanilla Cokes.”
I roll my eyes at her usual antics, but I’m grateful to her. Her presence helps ease the tension in my shoulders. The familiar joke brings a light chuckle to my lips. “What’s fancy about it? It’s just Coke.”
“In a fancy can with gold,” she drawls.
“It’s not even gold,” I argue.
Jude nods his head. “I’ve got to agree with Berlyn here about the gold,” he agrees seriously. “But I’ll give it to Winter on the fancy business.”
Summer looks him up and down appraisingly, probably trying to decide to hit him or thank him for taking her side. “Wrong season, but I’ll take the win.”
“Only half a win,” Ezra points out. “You’re definitely wrong on the color and I don’t agree that flavored Coke is any fancier than regular Coke.”
His support makes me smile, even if his tone sounds completely bewildered on the fact this is a topic of conversation.
“I’ll have a glass of lemonade though,” he adds. “Thank you, Berlyn.” The way he draws out my name sends a shiver down my spine. Something that Summer doesn’t miss and makes her waggle her brows behind his back.
Jude shakes his head. “Maybe when I’m done, but thanks.”
I nod and smile as an awkward silence fills the room. Summer lifts a brow at me and widens her eyes as I continue to stand and audition as a bobble head.
“Here let me help you,” Ezra offers and leads the way into the kitchen. Oh right. I have to get the drinks.
“I’m going to get started,” Jude calls out behind us.