Chapter 7 Sophie
SOPHIE
Matthew and I arrive at the gate with ten minutes to spare until boarding.
“I was starting to get worried,” my mother says, her voice strangely soft to my ears. I almost feel bad for making her and my dad—who looks like he needs a nap as badly as I do—worry. Lord, I must be more caffeine deprived than I thought.
“Thought you got held up in security or something,” Dad says. “Was about to call you to see what the holdup was.”
Matthew shifts beside me, his arm brushing against mine.
He’s not as big as Benny or as trim as Elijah.
In fact, I’m pretty sure Matthew and I could fit in the same clothes, because he’s not that much bigger than me and I’m definitely as average as they come, but his presence still feels larger than it is due to his warmth, his infectious charisma.
And maybe he’s put on a few pounds since I last saw him, but he looks good.
Really good, if I’m being honest.
“We stopped for coffee,” Matthew says, clearing his throat.
He looks at me with a sideways glance, a faint smirk on his lips like we’ve just been caught stealing cookies from the jar on top of his mom’s refrigerator.
I can’t help but feel marginally better, like our late arrival isn’t as bad as it probably seems.
Matthew’s like that, though. He just exudes this aura that’s impossible not to feel the effects of.
“Didn’t think to get any for us, huh?” Benny says. “I see how it is.”
Sam gives me a faint smile before glancing at Matthew, then back at me, before Raegan pulls his attention.
Benny’s gaze appraises me like a judgmental god or something, like he’s pissed off, which is weird.
I can also feel Elijah’s gaze on me, studying me intently, though I can’t meet it.
Because I know the minute I do, I’ll remember what happened last night, and this morning is already bad enough after having to wake up super early and getting here as late as I have.
I still can’t believe I kissed Elijah. Not that I didn’t want to, because I definitely wanted to, I just…
thought I’d only thought the idea in my head.
Being in Elijah’s proximity warps my brain.
It always has. Add a few glasses of wine, a bad breakup, a mother who just doesn’t know when to quit, and a wedding and… clearly the wine went to my head.
Though I know the wine isn’t entirely to blame, if I’m being honest—but I don’t want to be honest right now. What I want is to take a damn nap and open my eyes to the pristine beach of Paradise.
Just as I open my mouth to speak, the attendant comes over the loudspeaker and announces that our plane is boarding, and all the appraising gazes and chastising words about my tardiness go out the window as we all make our way with the crowd toward the line.
I file in behind my brother, with Matthew behind me.
I offer to grab my carry-on, but being the gentleman he is, he refuses to let me carry it even five feet from the ramp to the airplane.
Part of me kind of likes that, honestly.
Keaton prided himself on being a gentleman too, due to his privileged upbringing, and while he did hold doors for me and walk on the outside of the street, I can’t recall him ever picking up my things or carrying my luggage on any of the trips we took together.
And then it dawns on me that Matthew may be the first man to ever actually carry my luggage. How sad is that? That no man has ever made the effort to do that in the last ten years?
My body heats as I realize he’s staring at me. Or more, staring at my ass. I’m not obtuse; I know he was looking earlier. Plus, Matthew has never exactly been subtle about checking me out or flirting with me.
When we were younger, it felt kind of taboo.
It wasn’t that much of an age gap, but it was still a gap.
I was seventeen on the cusp of my eighteenth birthday, and he was just a freshman.
But despite my resistance when it came to his flirtations, I can’t deny that I liked the attention. Or rather, Matthew’s form of attention.
His little smirks and jokes. The way he’d always burrow closer to me on the couch to look at my book with examples, pretending he was doing it to get a better look when I knew it was just a ploy to get close to me.
And like the dangerous woman I was, I leaned closer every time too, just so I could get a whiff of him. He always smelled so good. Not like the guys who practically bathed in Axe, but good like a campfire smells good. Smoky, spicy, and sweet all at the same time.
I move up in the line, getting another whiff of that familiar spicy scent and sucking in a breath, letting it fill my lungs. It settles my nerves, even if it’s only for a moment.
When I board the plane, I move down slightly so Matthew can toss my bag up in the overhead compartment, nearly freezing when I realize where my seat is.
Benny’s gaze catches mine for a moment before my eyes drift to the middle seat that’s open. I look at Elijah.
“Uh…” I say stupidly, blinking like it’s morse code and somehow he’ll understand what my lips fail to speak.
“Get up, asshole. Don’t make her crawl over you,” Benny bites out, his tone sharper than I’ve ever heard it before.
Elijah blinks, almost as if he’s finally remembered where he’s at.
Same, Elijah, same.
“Oh…right.” He gets up, slipping out as Matthew steps to the side, casting me a soft look with a half smile.
“I’m in the back, so…I’ll see you when we land?”
I nod. “Thanks for carrying my stuff,” I say, tucking some stray hair behind my ear.
“No problem, baby,” he says, and I note the way Elijah tenses, which makes me feel startlingly aware of his body as I brush past him. He lets out a grunt as I fall into the seat, hurrying to buckle up and take a deep breath.
“Sit down,” Benny directs, his voice tinged in annoyance.
Elijah’s cheeks are flushed as he runs a hand through his hair as he plops down next to me. “Sorry, just…out of it this morning, I guess. Didn’t sleep well.”
I try to pull the belt to tighten it, but it’s stuck. Fuck.
“Oh, you’re fine,” I say, trying not to stare at his mouth. Trying not to remember how it tastes…
I try to pull the belt again, but it’s no use. “Come on,” I mutter as Eli asks if I’m okay.
“Fine,” I say as I try again, and this time my hand slips and I end up hitting Eli right in the stomach.
“Fuck!” He lets out a hiss as he sucks in a breath.
Benny chuckles. “Karma is a bitch, ain’t it, Eli?”
“Fuck you, Benny,” Elijah says breathlessly.
Benny reaches over slightly, grasping my seatbelt, his dark blue gaze catching mine.
“Allow me, princess,” he says, and my gaze drops to his large, tattooed hand, those long fingers decorated with skulls and moths and butterflies among poison bottles and Roman numerals. Immediately I’m taken back to the other night, remembering the tattoos covering his chest and arms. His back.
I wonder how far they go. Are his legs covered too? Is there an inch of him that doesn’t have a tattoo?
Well, I’m sure there’s about eight or nine inches, give or take, if the rumors are true.
I’m pulled from my thoughts by the harsh grip of his hand, his knuckles brushing against my shirt as he yanks the belt and it moves, getting tighter. I suck in a breath at the sudden motion, the feel of his knuckles against me, and the tight compression.
“Better?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at me, his lips curving into a devilish smirk.
“Yeah,” I manage to creak out as the pilot begins the spiel about the emergency exits.
“Sit back, relax,” Benny says, moving his hand to my chest and gently pushing me back into the seat.
Elijah grumbles something I can’t understand under his breath as I fall back with ease and ease up just a fraction.
“Got a long flight,” I say, my gaze once more finding Benny’s.
He smiles as he leans back in his seat, extending his long legs out as far as he can in the limited space, causing them to brush against mine. He lifts the armrest, eliminating space between us.
“If you need to take a nap, feel free,” he says with a grin. “This way you’ll be more comfortable.”
“Unbelievable,” Elijah mutters as I give Benny a soft grin of my own.
“Thanks,” I say, and when I turn around, I realize Elijah has moved his armrest too. Now our entire row is open seating and I can spread out in either direction.
Part of me feels like they’re in some weird competition I don’t know about, but over what I have no clue. It can’t be me.
I mean, I may have kissed Elijah, so I can understand his actions, but Benny? Benny’s just my brother’s best friend. And the man who is probably solely responsible for my sexual awakening, but I digress.
There’s never been anything between us that would lead me to think he’s into me even in the most remote way, so I know I have to be losing my marbles.
But then I think back to the other night.
When I ran into him shirtless, in the middle of the night, still drunk at my brother’s house.
That morning—yesterday—when he was in the kitchen, that weird tension that emanated from his stare.
My heart skips a beat, and I blink, seemingly forgetting how to process literally anything with the way he’s looking at me right now. So I do the only thing I can think of at the moment as my heart races, as the plane starts to pick up speed.
I close my eyes and pretend that I’m in paradise, praying when I open my eyes, I will be.
“Hey,” a soft voice whispers in my ear. “Soph, wake up.”
I groan because the warmth surrounding me right now is too comfortable, and it smells too good. Familiar.
“No,” I murmur as I burrow into the warmth like a damn chipmunk. “Five more minutes.”
A deep, dark chuckle vibrates through me. “No can do, princess. It’s time to move.”
The gruff voice infiltrates my thoughts, and I blink, remembering all at once where I am. Upon opening my eyes, I nearly gasp.