Chapter 20
Liam
“Are you gonna need to piss?” I question Brody as I pull my headphones out of my carry on and drop into the seat beside him.
We’re just settling into our short flight home, and I’m fucking exhausted.
All I want to do is lean back in my seat, close my eyes, and have a short nap so I can navigate the hour-long drive home from the airport.
To do that, though, I need to make sure Brody isn’t going to need to get up and disturb me, or we need to switch seats.
Rolling my head in his direction, I find his eyes narrowed at me, his top lip curled up into a “what the fuck” expression.
“I’m taking a nap, and if you need to get up you’re going to wake me.”
“I’ll hold it.”
“Good man,” I tell him, giving him a slap on the chest. “Probably don’t fit in the thing anyway, and no one wants to see you half in and half out, taking a leak.”
He grunts in response, his attention casting down to the phone in his hand.
I make myself as comfortable as I possibly can with the lack of space and hard seats, knowing it’s going to be impossible to sleep for the next twenty minutes before we take off.
Being able to close my eyes feels like heaven though.
Almost.
My mind pulls up a picture of Jordan from this morning.
Our official goodbye at her door. The kiss neither of us wanted to end.
The tears in her eyes that I wished I could wipe away.
They about killed me. It felt like I had a barbell with five hundred pounds racked, sitting directly across my ribcage. My chest constricted so hard it hurt.
It hasn’t stopped aching, either. When I met everyone in the hotel lobby to head to the airport, the pain kicked up a notch when I saw her.
And when she wouldn’t look at me, it got even worse.
I don’t hold it against her, but it still felt shitty.
The bounce in my step that I’ve had all damn week is gone, leaving behind a feeling that has zero joy in it.
It’s only been hours and I already fucking hate it.
Releasing a deep sigh, I cross my arms over my chest, adjusting in my seat as the plane remains full of noisy passengers coming on board.
I try to tune them out, but then a loud, pretentious voice catches my attention causing my Spidey senses to go off in warning.
The hair on my arms stands up, my muscles tightening in my shoulders and neck as my eyes pop open.
Standing at the front of the plane is Paul.
“Fuck.”
My seatbelt is off, and before Brody can question me, I’m out of my chair and jumping into the aisle, headed towards the back where Jordan and Quinn are sitting together.
It takes me longer than I want because of other passengers, but finally I reach the seats right in front of them that are still unoccupied.
“Switch me seats,” I demand of Quinn without preamble. We don’t have time.
I’ve interrupted a deep conversation, and given that Quinn knows about Jordan and me, I’m willing to bet the conversation was about us. Or me. They both look up, mouths making little “O’s”, eyebrows furrowed, startled and confused.
“What?” Quinn is the first to recover, her head shaking. “No, I’m good here with Jordan.”
“This isn’t up for debate, Quinn. Paul—” I say his name as quietly as I can, glancing over my shoulder to find he’s only two rows away.
“Liam—” Jordan is about to protest, but I cut her off, though I’m not talking to her.
“Douchebag!” I greet the asshole who has stopped right before the row I’m standing in. He’s throwing invisible daggers at me, which has me shooting him the fakest friendliest smile I can muster. “How was Vegas? Fuck any good strippers?”
He answers with contempt like I figured he would. “You’re in my fucking seat.”
“This one?” I ask, pointing at the chair I’m kneeling in. “This is yours? My bad, dude. Jordan was busy telling Quinn about all the things I did to her last night. She was just about to move.”
Did I need to throw that in? Hell no. Am I glad I did? For the look of loathing on Paul’s face, you’re fucking right I am.
Turning back to the two ladies sitting in the next row, I look between the two of them. “Right, Quinn?”
She glances at Jordan who I note nods imperceptibly before Quinn subtly takes her seatbelt off and rises to her feet. “Yep. Needed to know all the sex details because I don’t have my own sex life.”
I can feel the roll of her eyes without seeing it. I’m about to slide out from the seat to take the spot Quinn has just vacated when Paul decides today seems like a good day to dig his own grave.
“Please. We all know you spread your legs for anything.”
I’m in the aisle facing Paul a second later, my jaw clenching, lips pressed firmly together in a thin line as I stare him down. Hailey and Luke are sitting across from where Jordan is, and I feel Luke stand up behind me. Ready to grab or help me, I’m not sure.
“Watch your fucking mouth.”
The smile he gives me is calculated. “What are you going to do? Hit me and get yourself blacklisted on every airline? Sit the fuck down.”
My blood boils. Half because of what he said about Quinn, and half because he’s motherfucking right. What am I going to do about it? Hitting him is probably what he wants, but it’ll cause me a lot more pain than it will him.
“Liam,” Jordan says from behind me, her hand touching my shoulder. “Come sit. We’re holding things up.”
Her touch soothes the creature growing inside me. The one who would love to throw all logic and sense out the window and pummel this douchebag to teach him a lesson. Violence doesn’t solve anything—I fucking get it—but sometimes it feels like it should.
“You know what, dude? You’re absolutely right.” Sliding my fake smile back into place, I force my shoulders to relax. “Bad idea. A good one would be fingering your ex-girlfriend the whole way home. Enjoy the flight.”
Turning around, I mouth “thank you” to Quinn whose lips are clamped tightly together, likely refraining from giving me or Paul a piece of her mind.
Honestly, I’m not sure which because she doesn’t look thrilled with me having stood up for her.
That’s Quinn though. She can handle herself; she just shouldn’t have to.
I catch sight of the flight attendant coming toward us as I slide into the row behind the one I just occupied.
Jordan has dropped back into her seat, and I do the same beside her as Paul moves out of the way for Quinn and the flight attendant to pass.
The latter goes by slowly, looking at both Paul and me.
I’m sure she’s making a mental note of the two of us.
Turning to Jordan as I fiddle with my seatbelt, I shoot her a charming smile. “Miss me?”
My smile is met with a frown. While she doesn’t look directly at Paul, her eyes shift just enough that I know she’s thinking about the scene between us.
She looks about as happy as Quinn did. But what was I supposed to do?
Let this douchebag get away with talking to Quinn like that?
Hell no. I won’t stand for bullshit like that even if Quinn can handle herself.
Pressing my hand to my chest, I gasp in jest. “You’ve wounded me.”
Her eyes roll, but I see the grin spreading across her lips as she turns her head towards the window. Trying to stay annoyed with me. Trying to hide her smile.
Leaning as far over the arm rest as I can, I clear my throat. It gets her attention, and she turns back to me, eyes widening in alarm when she realizes how close I am. Close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off her body.
“Does this mean I don’t get to finger you all the way home like I told him I would?”
“Liam!” she hisses, her eyes darting to the chair in front of me where Paul has finally taken his seat.
“How about an old fashioned make out session then?”
Her eyes flash dangerously. “Liam.”
Fuck. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t hot. My Fireball acting like she’s in charge, getting up in arms over my antics. She can scold me all she wants; we both know who’s really in charge when it matters.
Was. Was in charge.
The thought knocks a little wind from my sails. Right. We’re done. The goodbye has been said. We are literally about to take off and leave Vegas behind. This impromptu moment of pretending we’re together is only because Paul got on the same flight as us. Nothing more.
But fuck. I wish it was more. I get the feeling I’m not the only one who doesn’t want this to end. Hell, if her tears this morning were any indication, I know she doesn’t want it to end.
So why the fuck are we?
Nate.
Right. My best friend. Her brother. My brother in flames.
But what the fuck kind of man would he be if he didn’t let this happen, if we both want it to?
I get that she made a promise, and while I may not have said the words “I promise”, I basically gave him my word that I wouldn’t date his little sister.
Ten fucking years ago. We were all young and dumb.
I wouldn’t have wanted someone like me dating my little sister either if I had one.
You aren’t good enough for her.
My mind doesn’t lie. But in my opinion no one is. No one will ever be good enough for Jordan. Why can’t I be the one that tries to be?
I know I’m staring at her. My eyes are moving between hers and her lips while hers do the same. Up. Down. Up. Down. Her chest follows the same motion, rising and falling, gaining momentum with each breath she takes.
We can figure this shit out. We can talk to Nate, explain everything. He’s a logical, level-headed guy. He knows I’d never do anything to hurt her. He knows I’d protect her at all cost. He has to know that if I’m willing to even entertain this crazy fucking idea that I must mean it.
“Fuck it,” I mumble.