34. Rhea
Brighton sets the box of chips and cookies on the table where I pointed, then takes a moment to look around the gym.
“Looks nice in here.” He’s wearing a dress shirt that’s too tight on his throat because he keeps rolling around his head like it’s going to loosen it up.
He offered to chaperone the dance. I think it’s mostly because he still doesn’t trust the school to protect Daisy, and I don’t blame him. And… It’s just nice having him here.
His gaze turns on me as he rakes a hand through his hair and gives me a quiet good job.
“I forgot you were a savant when it comes to high school dance decor,” I tease and shake my head.
I’d shimmied into my most appropriate dress, but I still feel exposed under Brighton’s eyes.
The thick straps feel too thin across my shoulders, and the loose, flowy fabric too tight around my hips.
“There’s more food in the truck; Boone made too much. I’ll go haul the rest in,” he says.
“Let me help,” I step forward, his eyes flickering to the splint on my hand with the shake of his head before he disappears from the gym. I refocus as best I can on the busy gym. Kids file in, laughing and shouting over each other as they take photos and flood the dance floor.
I spot Daisy before her dad gets back and smile at who she’s with.
Auggie looks cute in a dress shirt and red tie.
His brown hair is starting to grow shaggy around his ears, and he’s sporting a goofy, content smile.
He’s helping her carry a crate of records to the stage where Lori, the self-appointed DJ for the evening, picks out what she wants to play next.
“Who is that?” Brighton scares the shit out of me, leaning down to speak right into my ear over the music.
“Uh, Auggie,” I tell him.
“What kind of name is Auggie?” His jaw goes tight, and his instant disdain for the kid makes me laugh. I cover my mouth and furrow my brows to stifle the enjoyment when Brighton tosses me an equally dirty look.
“They’re having fun.” I try to diffuse the situation.
“Yeah, about ten inches too close together,” Brighton grumbles.
“This isn't a bible camp,” I tease him.
“Do you know what happens when teenagers get that close?” He’s two seconds from starting to pace, and I turn to him with a big smile on my face.
“Are you gonna give me the birds and the bees talk, Killjoy?” I raise an eyebrow just to get him more riled up.
“Do you need me to give you that talk, Hellcat?” His voice drops, and I realize my mistake because he’s better at this game of riling than I am.
“Depends,” I push, just a little, just enough. “Does it come with examples?”
Brighton chokes on his own spit, and I know I’ve won.
“Do you need water?” I start to laugh as another teacher summons me from across the room.
“Leave Daisy alone, she’s a smart girl. Don’t be a helicopter parent, hand out drinks, food…
keep busy.” I warn him, and he scowls at me and asks me what that even means, but I’m too far away from him now to explain.
I watch him watch them for most of the night.
It’s a pretty low-key evening, with only one major fight that happened in the bathrooms, but it is dealt with almost immediately, thanks to Brighton’s size. The boys take one look at him and think maybe they shouldn’t start more crap.
“Thanks.” I nudge him as we wander back to the gymnasium. “For a second there, I thought Boston was going to live in detention for the rest of his life.”
“He probably still should,” Brighton huffs, fussing with his sleeves. He’d rolled them up at some point during the evening, and every feral woman in the vicinity is eyeing him like a piece of meat.
“You know, I think half of them would faint if you asked them to dance.” I look around at all of them staring at him while he watches Daisy and Auggie.
“What?” His brows pinch together, but he doesn’t look away.
“You’re fresh meat to these hyenas,” I say.
“Cougars,” he corrects. “You mean cougars.”
“So you have noticed.” I cross my arms, careful with my hand.
“The blonde in the neon blue tried to cop a feel by the punch bowl an hour ago.” His lips curl into an amused smile.
“Lannah?” I gag. “She runs in a swingers circle—and not a good one. Her husband spends more time at the doctor’s for his diseased junk than he does in their bedroom.”
Brighton shakes his head at me.
“Casey is clean,” I say. “But she sounds like her nose is constantly plugged.”
“Oh yeah?” He looks down at me. “What does that sound like?”
I pinch my nose and moan—just loud enough to make him panic that someone heard, and he squeezes my side to get me to stop. His fingers linger, but only for a second before he pulls away.
“You asked.” I shrug.
“How are you even allowed on school grounds?” he quips. “You’re worse than a thirteen-year-old boy,” he adds, his jaw clenching as the music slows down and Auggie’s hands mold to Daisy’s hips awkwardly.
“He’s the most polite kid in this school,” I tell him.
“Polite boys still think like pigs,” Brighton argues.
I snort, the sound leaving me before I can stop it.
“What?” He huffs.
“You pride yourself on manners,” I remind him. “So, on that fact, I can only make the assumption that you also think like a pig.”
“Maybe I do.” He’s quick with it. “Makes me qualified to be pissed off when little boys touch my daughter inappropriately.”
“He’s not even roaming.” I chuff and point to Auggie’s stiff hands on her waist. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t have grabbed my ass by now if that were us?”
Brighton’s head whips to me.
“I mean, if we were fourteen, awkwardly slow dancing at a school event,” I try to slow his racing thoughts, the heated ones written all over his usually composed face.
“You’re pushing buttons tonight, why?” he asks, and then lowers his voice. “Are you having fun?” For a second, I think I pushed too far—then a smile creeps onto his face.
“I am.” I nod. He doesn’t say anything further, but he steps out in front of me and extends his hands. “Don’t be silly.”
“Someone has to be a good role model for these animals.” He grinds his teeth together, and the muscle in his jaw flexes.
Is that the point you’re trying to make, Brighton Black?
I stare at him, the lights dancing across his features and making him appear younger than he is just for a second.
I let him pull me into the crowd of kids, a few of them recognize him from the day in the hall and whistle loudly, but he ignores them completely as he carefully wraps me up in the most respectful way he can.
“You know, this is the most I’ve slow-danced in my entire life,” I say to him as he angles us to keep an eye on Daisy.
“Now who's telling lies about their high school experience?” he jabs.
“Not all of us were born looking like a god, Brighton. You probably came out of the womb with a glow.” I roll my eyes.
He laughs. “I had braces well past graduation.”
“No fucking way.” I squeeze my hand in his and muffle the swear that falls from my lip by pressing my face into his shoulder.
“Serious,” he says, his body tense. “Got them off two weeks before I met Riona.” He leans closer, his lips in my hair and his breath on my skin, making every nerve tingle.
I look up at him, taking my eyes off the kids dancing awkwardly around us, and lean back so I can properly see his face. “You’d probably make braces look cool.”
“Boone." He whispers his brothers name and nods in confirmation, "he made braces look cool. I looked like Andre the Giant had a baby with Steve Urkel.” He teases himself, and I feel him relax.
“Okay, so maybe you weren’t grabbing ass in high school.” I’m very aware of where his hand is on my lower back. Do it, I won’t stop you.
His eyes break from mine, and his brows furrow together tightly before whispering under his breath. “I’m going to kill little shit.”
I hold on to him tighter, my eyes finding what his do. Auggie’s hand is beneath Daisy’s chin, and they’re sharing the smallest of kisses. The kind that she’ll remember for the rest of her life. “Brighton,” I warn him. “She’ll hate you forever if you interrupt that.”
He turns his attention back to me. You’re adorable when you’re all worked up, and it’s fucking annoying. I cock my head to the side, and we lock into a staring competition that feels endless. “Fine,” he huffs, and I know I’ve won.
“Oh—I see the nerd now,” I tease, and he shakes his head, annoyed. “What? It’s there.” I keep going until he spins me out, laughing.