Prologue #2
Ace is my twin. My built-in best friend.
We don’t fight over girls—and never have.
Ace hasn’t done anything wrong. He has no idea I have a thing for her.
I’ve kept it entirely to myself, waiting for the perfect time, like a pussy.
And now my brother has stepped into the space I wanted.
He’s asked her out; otherwise, why would she ask me?
So, if I tell her yes, if I make my claim now, I’ll be throwing a wrench into my brother’s plan for a girl I have no right to.
I can’t do that to him. I love him too much.
So, I force my face to stay blank and let out a hollow laugh that feels like I’m swallowing glass. “Ace? Nah. He’s a good guy. An idiot sometimes, but his heart is gold.”
Eva searches my face, her eyes scanning mine, like she’s looking for a crack or a sign from me, telling her to say no to him. But I hold her gaze, praying she can’t see the lie in my eyes.
Not that I’m fully lying. My brother is great. But I want her for myself.
She takes a deep breath and holds it, then releases it. “Right,” she says, nodding. “Okay. Good to know.”
It might be wishful thinking on my part, but I swear I see a flicker of hurt or disappointment in her eyes. Or maybe she was just being friendly all this time because she liked my brother and was trying to get closer to him.
“Yeah,” I choke out, forcing a smile. “If he asks you out and you say yes, he’s a lucky guy.”
Before she can respond, Ace walks in, his face lighting up the second he sees us.
“Oh, hey. There you are,” he says, walking toward Eva and placing a hand on her shoulder. “The guys are setting out a new round of beer pong outside. You coming?”
“Sure,” she says softly. Her smile is aimed at Ace, but she gives me one last unreadable look. “I’ll be out there in a second. Let me grab my friends.” Then she turns and walks away.
“I’ll be here,” Ace calls after her, grinning. He grabs my arm, eyes wide and excited, and leans into me. “Did she say anything about me?”
I force myself to smile. “Why? What’d you do?”
“I asked her out.”
And there’s the confirmation that I did the right thing by not saying anything to her.
“I swear, brother, I think she might be my soulmate. There’s just something about her, you know?”
I do know. And I feel like I can barely breathe.
“Soulmate, huh?” I let out a rough laugh, slapping his shoulder hard. “You turning into a sap like Archie, Ace?” I tease, comparing him to our older brother, who’s head over heels for his wife, Emma.
“Fuck yes,” he says, punching my arm before turning to walk out the door to the backyard. “She could be my Emma,” he says over his shoulder.
I stand there for a minute and watch him walk away. My stomach is in knots. But I can’t sit here and sulk all night. So, I walk out of the kitchen and blend back into the crowd. The noise washes over me, but inside my head … nothing.
Three months of hesitation. Three months of waiting for the right time.
And just like that, I’ve missed my chance.
EVANGELINE
Walker football parties are legendary. And a party at the Griffith twins’ house, even more so because every girl I know wants a shot at one or both of the brothers. I can’t deny that I wouldn’t mind a shot with Aston.
I came to the party tonight with that goal in mind. Aston Griffith. And tonight, I want to see if he’ll actually ask me out. I’ve been watching him, and I know he’s watching me too.
I’ve been hanging out with my broadcasting crew, who have all become really good friends over the last two years. We talk and laugh and go over the highlights from the game in an unofficial capacity, giving our own opinions instead of what we should be saying on camera.
But my attention keeps drifting over to Aston through the crowd. I look at him with his broad shoulders, and he’s wearing his Walker football hat … backward. All he needs are gray sweatpants, and I think every girl in this room would bow at his feet.
I think it’s been a solid three months that we’ve been flirting.
Specifically since he started lingering by my camera during warm-ups, tossing out goofy, confident one-liners that made my stomach do inappropriate backflips for someone on the clock.
I’ve given him every green light in the book.
I’ve laughed at his corny jokes and stayed longer than I needed to.
I even changed into this crop top before I came here to maybe grab his attention from all the other half-dressed girls here tonight, looking for a fun night with a Griffith brother or any football player wanting to have a good time.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him set his drink down. When I turn my head and look at him, our gazes lock, and he starts walking toward me. My heart is hammering against my ribs.
Finally. He’s actually coming over to me.
But before he covers half the distance, someone else steps into my space.
“What’s up, friends? Y’all looked great on the sidelines tonight, but I think you missed my best play in the second quarter,” he says with a tilt to his lips.
Ace Griffith.
The resemblance is staggering. Aston and Ace have the same jawline, the same dirty-blond hair, the same bluish-green eyes, but their energy is completely different.
Where Aston is more of a slow burn—a guy who lets his eyes do most of the talking until he drops a quiet, devastating smile—Ace is a freight train of swagger and confidence.
Case in point: Ace stands right in the center of our group, speaking animatedly about the game. The girls in my group giggle, completely charmed, but I’m momentarily thrown off. Because my eyes spot Aston over Ace’s shoulder.
Aston stands in the middle of the room, watching us. Watching me. The intensity of his stare makes me suck in a breath. I wait for him to keep walking toward us, maybe interrupt his brother, maybe show me that all the sideline flirting actually meant something.
But he doesn’t move. He just stands there.
I feel a prickle of annoyance, mixed with disappointment, settling in my belly. I like a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take it. If Aston wants to be here, he would be.
Turning my head back to Ace, I force a smile and catch his last words; he’s still going on about the play he thinks we missed. “Ace, I’m pretty sure we caught your thirty-yard rush, but we just chose to cut it from the highlight reel.”
Ace clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch. That cuts deep, Evangeline. I guess I’ll just have to buy you dinner to make it on the highlight reel the next game.”
He’s bold. I respect it.
While Aston has spent months making me wonder if he would make a move, Ace has been talking to me for five minutes and already laid his cards on the table. I need to accept that maybe Aston isn’t interested and I should stop wasting my time.
I turn at Aston again, and I’m honestly irritated with myself at this point.
Especially when I see a girl with bleached-blonde hair slide right into Aston’s path.
She puts her hand on his arm, leaning in close, like she’s familiar with him.
And Aston doesn’t pull away. Instead, he stands there, talking to her.
I look away quickly, focusing on Ace to hide my disappointment. I’m an idiot. Maybe Aston never was going to ask me out. Maybe I completely misread all the flirting.
“Evangeline, you gonna let me take you out or what?”
“I’ll think about it,” I answer, my voice steadier than I feel.
Ace nods slowly, smiling at me, like he already knows what my answer will be.
Someone calls his name, and he excuses himself with a promise he’ll find me later.
An hour later, I’m in the kitchen, looking for a bottle of water while also trying to process the fact that I’m considering going on a date with a guy who has the exact face of the person I actually want.
While I’m lost in thought, someone I’m pretty sure I recognize from one of my classes is making a move. He’s completely hammered and trying to convince me of … I’m not exactly sure. But he sounds like a jackass, so I play with him a little by insulting him, but it goes over his head.
And just as I’m about to walk around him to continue my water search, Aston walks up next to me. He saves me by interrupting me and the hammered boy, making up an excuse to talk to me about game footage.
The blonde flashes in my mind, but I carry on an easy conversation with him anyway. I’m jealous of a girl I don’t even know, but I absolutely won’t let on that I was watching him with her tonight.
So, instead, I decide to take one last shot to find out where his head is. I have to know if I imagined the spark between us or if he’s just really hard to read.
“Is there any reason why I shouldn’t go out with your brother?”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to answer.
I watch his face, looking for a twitch in his jaw, maybe a flash of jealousy, or anything that would tell me he wants me for himself and I should say no to Ace.
That maybe he feels a fraction of the connection I feel and doesn’t want his brother to take me out.
But he doesn’t say what I want him to.
“Ace? Nah. He’s a good guy. An idiot sometimes, but his heart is gold.”
And that’s all I need to know. He doesn’t care. I have completely and embarrassingly misread every single glance, smirk, and conversation we’ve ever had. To Aston, I’m just a girl on the broadcasting team he likes to banter with. Nothing more.
I think I answer him, but I can’t be sure because all these thoughts are swimming in my head.
And then, before things can get even more awkward, Ace walks in. The contrast between them is glaring. Ace has a huge smile on his face and is looking at me like I’m the only person in the room while Aston looks like he’s mentally checking out of the conversation.
“Oh, hey. There you are,” he says, walking to me and placing his hand on my shoulder. “The guys are setting out a new round of beer pong outside. You coming?”