22. June
JUNE
“Thanks for the invite,” Bryan says. He shakes Jagger’s hand.
Jagger smiles, though I can’t be the only one who feels it’s lack of authenticity. “Don’t mention it.”
I have a feeling Jagger means it in a very literal sense.
I also have a feeling that the only reason Bryan received an invitation tonight is because he’s with me.
And the only reason I received one is because I’m friends with Jagger’s girlfriend.
I exchange a quick look with Violet as she hides her amusement, pressing her hand against her mouth.
Yup. I’m definitely not the only one who can see how Jagger’s clearly less than enthused by Bryan’s presence this evening.
“Good to see you again, Bryan,” Violet tells him. She opens Jagger’s front door the rest of the way and steps aside. “Come on in.”
“Good to see you, too, Violet,” he returns as he looks around the quiet house.
After ditching me one too many times over the last week, Violet insisted we have a double date, if you can call it that.
She invited Lexie to come hang out, too, but Lexie declined after finding out the hanging out would be at Jagger’s house, saying she had to work.
Seeing how controlling Ethan is with her, I kind of doubt it, but it isn’t my place to call her out.
Now it’s just me and Bryan with Jagger and Violet, and no one to break up the awkwardness.
Yeah, I’m really missing Lexie right about now.
It’s not that Bryan doesn’t fit in with Violet.
It's just…okay, he kind of sticks out like a sore thumb with Jagger. It isn’t his fault, though.
What do these two have in common? Bryan’s tight on cash.
Jagger was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.
Bryan works full-time. Jagger’s finishing his master’s degree in Economics in the spring.
Bryan and I are still feeling things out, and Jagger’s all in with my best friend.
Add in the gorgeous castle of a home, along with Bryan just getting off work for 24 consecutive hours, and of course, his head is swimming, you know?
Shrugging off his coat, Bryan asks, “So, what’s a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?”
Violet laughs and points toward the kitchen at the back of the house. “Help yourself.”
“Awesome, thanks.” Turning to me, Bryan asks, “You want anything, babe?”
There it is again. Babe.
I ignore Violet’s stare burning a hole in the side of my head and give Bryan a nod. “Vodka Sprite, please.”
“Be right back.”
As he disappears into the kitchen, Violet says, “Babe, huh?”
Gah. How did I know she was going to bring this up? Thankfully, she’s smart enough to keep her voice quiet so it doesn’t travel through the massive house where Bryan might overhear us. Even so, I peek around her, confirming Bryan’s out of earshot.
Satisfied, I reply, “I know.” I barely keep my grimace in check. “Is it weird?”
“Not unless it’s weird for you,” she offers.
If only I knew the answer to that. It’s not that I hate the nickname.
It's just that I kind of feel like we should be officially dating before terms of endearment are incorporated into the relationship, you know what I mean? Or maybe I’m overthinking things.
It wouldn’t be the first time. Besides, I’m the one who asked him to come hang out with my friends.
If that isn’t a positive sign that I like where things are headed with us, I don’t know what is. So why does the nickname feel so…wrong?
I shake off the feeling and give Jagger a smile because I refuse to analyze my relationship with Fireman Bryan in front of my friends. “Thanks for the invite, Jagger,” I tell him. “For real.”
“Not a problem,” he replies. “Besides, it’s a bit of a two birds, one stone, kind of thing, so I’m not complaining.”
Two birds, one stone? What’s he talking about? “How so?” I ask.
Crinkles of amusement form at the edge of Violet’s coffee-colored eyes as she loops her arm through her boyfriend’s. “Jagger wants my friends, aka you and Lexie—if she’d decided to show—to like him.”
“And I get to piss off one of my brothers in the process.” Jagger shrugs. “It’s a win-win.”
My brows wrinkle. “And why would my presence piss off one of your brothers?” I ask.
Jagger pins me with a stare so much like Ford’s, a shiver races down my spine. “Why do you think?”
I don’t know whether I should be offended or…nope. Pretty sure I should be offended. Am I really so bad that Ford would be pissed if he found me in his house unannounced?
The squeak of the front door cuts off our little staring contest, and his attention catches on someone behind me. “Speak of the devil,” he mutters to no one in particular before calling out, “Hey, Ford!”
Following his gaze, I turn around only to find a certain brother I haven’t seen since the chili cook-off. Dark T-shirt. Dark jacket. Worn denim jeans. His head is bowed toward the floor as he drops a set of car keys into a bowl on the entry table.
“Hey, Jag,” he offers without bothering to look up.
He digs out his phone from his back pocket and moves toward the stairs.
Considering how he’s usually the life of the party even when the groups are tiny, like they are right now, it’s strange.
How distracted he looks. He won’t even look at us. Or is it me he’s avoiding?
I’m being ridiculous.
The world doesn’t revolve around you, June.
But if that’s the case, why is he acting so weird?
Maybe Jagger’s onto something, and my presence really does piss him off. But why? What did I do wrong?
When Ford’s close enough to touch, Jagger reaches out to stop him. “How was the…” Jagger’s words trail off, and he drops his hand. “Fuck,” he mutters.
Violet’s body tightens beside him, and my brows dip as Ford goes to move past me.
“Ford?” I murmur. I reach for his arm like Jagger had, but when my hand is nothing but an inch from his forearm, he jerks away as if he’s been scalded.
“Ford,” I repeat, my tone carrying a sharpness I’ve never heard come from me before.
Ford freezes, and his phone’s screen goes dark like it was nothing but a prop.
I take in his profile. The way his head stays downcast ever so slightly.
The sharpness of his jaw. The tense ropes of muscle along the column of his throat.
Finally, he turns to face me fully, and my stomach bottoms out.
The opposite side of his face is swollen and angry, like he was in a fistfight on his way home.
My lips part in surprise. “Ford.” This time it’s nothing but a whisper, but he hears it nonetheless.
With a cocky grin I’ve grown accustomed to seeing on his always-attractive face, Ford looks me up and down like he has all the time in the world. “Hey, June Bug.”
It’s like the mask has snapped back into place, and the real Ford, the one who clearly was hit tonight, is barricaded deep inside of him.
Only the happy-go-lucky youngest Harden brother is left in his place.
I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.
I don’t like that I can see the difference between the two.
I don’t like that I have no idea whether or not this is a common theme for him, and I’m simply better at recognizing the differences, or if I’ve ever spoken with the real Ford at all.
All I know is that something is clearly wrong, and he’s clearly very good at hiding said wrong things, which means whatever happened is a common occurrence.
The realization leaves a layer of acid on my tongue.
How can he act like this? Like nothing’s wrong?
Like we’re supposed to act like everything is okay when his face looks like…
My fingers itch to reach out and touch the damage, but I fold my arms instead. “Are you all right?” I whisper.
“Never better.”
It’s a lie. I can see it. Taste it. Feel it.
“Ford,” I repeat.
“June Bug.” Sarcasm laces his tone.
Jagger stays quiet. His gaze bounces from me to Ford and back again. He isn’t surprised, though. That’s the worst part.
Why isn’t he surprised?
“I thought fighting was your brother’s thing, not yours,” I murmur, referring to the mime in the room who’s not only known for fighting but is pretty freaking good at it.
“What can I say?” Ford offers. “Guess it runs in the family.”
“Hey, babe,” Bryan sidles up beside me and hands me my drink.
I take it on reflex, too stunned to do anything else as I stare at the stranger named Ford standing in front of me.
When Bryan realizes who I’m speaking to, he stops short.
“Ford? Oh, shit.” Grimacing, Bryan leans closer and examines the damage taking up half of Ford’s face. “Dude, you look rough.”
“Figured I’d give you a fighting chance.” Ford smirks, as if the pun catches him by surprise as much as it did the rest of us. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He reaches for the drink in my hand and tosses the entire thing back, not even wincing when the alcohol burns his taste buds.
Handing me the empty glass, he lowers his head like he’s bowing, then grabs the railing seconds later, heading up to the second floor, where I presume the bedrooms are located.
What. Just. Happened?
The feel of a warm hand touching my lower back drags me back to the present. “You okay?” Bryan asks.
I blink, desperate to erase the view of Ford disappearing.
It doesn’t work. “Yeah,” I answer. “Yeah, I’m fine.
” I am not fine. Heck, I’m not even here.
Not mentally, anyway. I’m upstairs with the one man who doesn’t want me there, and if I don’t check on him, I’m pretty sure I’ll spend the rest of my night worrying.
“Want to get me another drink while I use the bathroom?” I suggest with a fake smile for good measure. “I’ll meet you back here in five?”