The Consequence of Loving Colton

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Oh, and I’d thought about her naked at least seven times since Jason had sat down.

  Clearing my throat, I waved him away. “Misunderstanding. I tripped, she tripped, and you know how those things go.”

  “Hey,” Max’s voice called from behind me. Every nerve ending was waiting to hear Milo’s voice chime in. “We on break yet?”

  “Coffee’s on and Mom went to buy fresh doughnuts from town.”

  “She gets to leave?” Max sounded irritated as he walked over to the coffeepot and poured himself a mug.

  I snorted.

  He drank coffee like a pansy.

  Was he pointing his pinky finger?

  No, wait.

  Ah, well played. Not his pinky finger, definitely a middle finger directed at me. Nice.

  Milo wasn’t usually into his type—you know the kind, metrosexual to the extreme, tight pants, tight shirts, smooth skin.

  Oh, good. Smooth skin? So I was what? Noticing his skin now? I must have hit my head harder than I’d thought.

  “Uh . . .” Jason pointed at my face.

  “What?”

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “Where?” I patted my chin and then my lips, and my fingers came away wet with blood.

  “Nosebleed!” Max shouted and then took a step toward the table, only to fall onto his knees, then his back. Out cold. He was completely passed out.

  “Someone help me!” Milo shouted from the doorway.

  “I’m bleeding!” I retorted.

  “He could have a concussion!”

  “Good!” I roared.

  Jason and Milo stared like I’d just told them I poisoned Max’s coffee and smiled while doing it.

  Cursing, I got up from the chair and grabbed a towel. Holding it to my face, I moved Milo out of the way so I could help Max.

  “He’s seriously out cold.” Jason poked Max’s face.

  “Is that normal?” I whispered.

  “You’re the firefighter!” Milo hit me on the back of the head. “Don’t you have any EMT skills?”

  Hell, yeah, I did. I just didn’t feel like exerting myself—not for Max. Because he’d seen her naked. Naked! Damn she’d looked soft, all creamy, and smooth, just begging for a man’s hands to—

  “Hey!” Milo swatted the back of my head again. “Help him!”

  “Right.” Without thinking I slapped Max on the cheek.

  His eyes flew open. “What the hell!”

  “You okay?”

  “Why’d you slap me?”

  “Looks good.” I pinched his cheek, slapped it again, and then got up. “He’ll live.”

  “That’s it?” Milo stomped her foot. “He’ll live? What kind of public service employee are you?”

  I shrugged as Max tried to sit up. “I’m going to puke,” he said.

  “Scared of blood?” What a pansy-ass!

  “Yes,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Here, I’ll help you to your room.” Milo got the guy to his feet and started walking with him down the hall, only he was clearly too heavy for her.

  Rolling my eyes, I stepped between them and grabbed Max by the shoulder even though I wanted to grab him by the balls and give an unfriendly tug. “I got it.”

  Max’s eyes widened. “Actually I’m feeling a lot better.”

  “No,” I said smoothly, as I took him down the hall, “you aren’t.”

  He met my gaze, then smirked. “Well, well, well, it seems I’ve found your weakness, Clark Kent.”

  “Huh?”

  “You like her?” Max asked.

  I was so shocked I almost dropped him. “Nope.”

  “Oh.” He nodded. We were almost to the bedroom door. “It’s cool. I mean, what’s not to like? Killer body, beautiful smile, tight little ass—”

  “Keep talking and I’m going to break your jaw.”

  “A tiger in—”

  I let my fist fly, knocking him off his feet and into the bedroom. He hit the floor with a thud. “I warned you.”

  Max smiled through the blood running from his nose into his mouth. “Cute. Little. Ass.” He made a spanking motion with his hand. I saw red. As in completely lost my shit and charged toward him, only to hear Milo scream my name just as I was ready to land another blow to his face.

  “Colton!” She wrapped her arms around my body and pulled me back. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “He was—” I pointed at the bastard only to see him give her an innocent smile, then wipe his cheek. Holy hell, was he fake-crying?

  “It hurts,” Max said with a pout. “Kiss it and make it better, baby?”

  “You’ve got to be shitting me,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Of course!” Milo released me and went to Max. “What happened?”

  Max’s eyes gleamed. “I fell, Colton tried to catch me but he wasn’t fast enough. Weird, huh? It seems to be his thing. Not being first, not being fast enough . . . losing things.” Max’s middle finger saluted me as he gave Milo a tight hug.

  “Just stay here.” Milo kissed his forehead. “You deserve a break.”

  “My ass.” Didn’t mean to say that out loud.

  “And you!” Milo stomped over to me and pinched my arm. “Leave him alone!”

  “Fine!”

  “Fine!”

  “Fine!” Max repeated after both of us. I lunged for him again but was blocked by Milo. She quickly shut the door and crossed her arms. The hallway was too small for one of our fights.

  “What?” I shifted nervously.

  “You punch him?”

  “He was talking about your ass.” I leaned in and pressed her back against the wall.

  “At least someone’s talking about it.” She tilted her chin in defiance and glared.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “You know exactly what I mean!” She poked my chest, and I had to admit it felt like Mighty Mouse had taken possession of her finger; it hurt like hell.

  “Stop.” I grabbed her hands.

  She fought against me, struggled as I tried to pin her arms to her side, and then lost complete control of my body.

  And kissed her.

  Again.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  MILO

  He was kissing me.

  In the hallway.

  My fake boyfriend was in the guest room a few feet from me, and Jason was down the hall.

  It was one of those kisses that girls talked to their friends about—possessive, dark, hungry. I loved it—I wanted to wrap my arms around his body and pull him against me.

  Instead I barely kissed him back.

  Because that wasn’t how I wanted him.

  Out of anger? Out of jealousy? Because he was pissed that I was finally out of his reach? As his lips moved across mine, I pondered—almost like time stopped—I let myself wonder. Would I ever be okay with half of him—the jealous half—when I wanted the whole package? The sucky thing about unrequited love is you’re never quite sure where the other person stands—you can only make assumptions based on your own feelings and then hope to God it’s at least better than all-out rejection. Yeah, they may say they want you, but is the want as strong as yours? Does it hurt? Does it ache?

  Gently I pushed Colton away. “We shouldn’t.”

  “Sorry.” His voice was hoarse. “I don’t know why I keep doing that.”

  “Yeah, you do,” I said as the cold weight of sadness and rejection settled in my stomach like a bag of rocks.

  “He’s not right for you.”

  “And you’re the expert because . . . ?”

  Colton touched his forehead against mine. “We’ve been friends since first grade—when you used pink marker to write your name all over my bedroom walls.”

  Tears threatened, making my throat close up. He was being kind—what I’d actually done was write “Colt+Milo=Love.”

  “I know you.” He put so much emphasis on the you that I started to shake. “Trust me.”

&nb
sp; “How can I trust a guy who doesn’t even know what he wants?” I pressed against his chest. “What do you want from me?”

  His eyes darted back and forth with uncertainty.

  And that was the thing.

  I wanted him to be certain. No hesitation.

  “I want—”

  “I’m home!” Mom called from the kitchen. “Doughnuts! And time to regroup! The decorators are here so we’ll need everyone to pitch in! Let’s go, troops!”

  Colton stepped away from me and walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

  With a sigh I went back into the guest room to rescue Max.

  He was sitting on the bed texting.

  “Wow, miracle recovery,” I joked.

  He looked up from his phone and grinned. “Theater camp. Admit it, you totally dig my acting skills.”

  “Those acting skills earned you a punch in the jaw.”

  “False.” Max crossed his arms. “My acting skills got you and Colton to talk. Geez, you two are so boring. I swear he wears his thoughts on his face. I’m surprised Jason hasn’t figured it out and murdered him already.”

  “Jason wouldn’t do that.”

  Max rolled his eyes. “Um, he would, he’d even ask for my help to dispose of the body. You’re a no-fly zone, get it? Trust me on this. Oh, and P.S. Colton thinks you have a nice ass.”

  “He said that?” Nerves exploded in my stomach.

  “No.” Max’s grin grew. “I did and then he punched me.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have punched me.”

  “Maybe he was defending my honor.”

  “Honor my ass. He wants to plow into said honor and make little babies and name his firstborn Max.”

  “Huh?”

  Max got to his feet and winced, his fingers grazing his jaw. “Good right hook, though, I’ll admit. It hurt like hell too. The things I do for my friends.”

  “Best friend.”

  “Best friend.” Max gripped my hand in his. “Trust me on this, Milo. I know what we’re doing is working. We have the rest of the day to get him to drop his pants.”

  “Um.” I raised my hand.

  “Question?”

  I nodded.

  “You may ask.”

  “Can he keep his pants on?”

  “Why the hell would you want his pants on when you want them off? Girls are weird.”

  “Max.” I tugged him toward the door. “Pants stay on.”

  “Off.”

  “On!”

  “Pants off!” he roared, pushing open the door.

  Jason stood there, his hand raised as if to knock, a look of complete embarrassment washing over his features. “I, er, uh, Mom’s back and, I think, um . . .” His eyes darted between us. “Continue.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled down the hall.

  “Yeah.” Max nodded. “Pretty sure your family thinks you’re a whore now.”

  “Thanks.” I snapped my teeth together.

  Max put his arm around my shoulder. “Stop being so argumentative and I’ll stop raising my voice.”

  “No deal.”

  He sighed. “Well, can’t say I didn’t try. Now, listen to me very carefully.”

  We stopped right before the kitchen. Max turned me to face him and cupped my face with his hands. “Eye of the Tiger.”

  “The song?”

  “The focus comes from the song.” He snapped his fingers. “Now, who’s the tiger?”

  “Colton?”

  “Good!” He patted my cheek. “Now, I want you to envision a doughnut.”

  “What—”

  “Envision the doughnut, damn it!”

  “What flavor?”

  “Does it matter?” He sounded irritated.

  “To me it does!”

  “Chocolate. You’re a chocolate doughnut.”

  “Got it.”

  “Now,” Max whispered. “Become the doughnut.”

  “Huh?”

  “Speaking English here. Become the doughnut.”

  “I’m a . . . chocolate doughnut . . . I taste . . . good?”

  “Sell it!”

  “I taste awesome!”

  “There you go!” He slapped my butt. “Now when you walk in there, be the delicious chocolate doughnut, all right? You taste good to him, you smell good, you look good. Be. The. Doughnut.”

  We walked into the kitchen hand in hand.

  Mom was eating a doughnut and talking animatedly with my dad. Jason had both a chocolate and a vanilla doughnut stacked on top of one another, and Colt was sitting at the end of the table reaching for a vanilla one. He looked up, our eyes locked.

  Colton lifted his vanilla one to his lips and bit in. Yeah, I was so-o-o-o that doughnut, my entire body tingled.

  Max smirked and slapped my butt again and whispered low in my ear. “Like I said, be the doughnut, feel those teeth, get your man, bitch.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  MILO

  “Now.” Mom dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin and made eye contact with each and every one of us before setting her napkin back down and clearing her throat. “The rest of the decorating crew should be here any minute and—”

  “No!” A shrill scream erupted from the front room.

  Max started choking on his doughnut. I hit his back and gasped as Jayne stomped into the kitchen, murder in her eyes. “It’s all wrong!”

  “What is?” Dad asked, calmly setting his cup on the saucer and sending her a bland glance.

  “The colors!” She stomped her foot.

  Colton made eye contact with me and Max and shook his head.

  “Honey, you said you wanted red.” Aw, poor Mom. The situation was like trying to calm a hippo. It was going to charge you regardless of how nice your words were. It would charge you, and then either drown you or sit on you.

  “I said,” Jayne screamed, angry crimson blotches staining her cheeks, “watermelon red!”

  “Red’s red,” Max muttered.

  “What?” Jayne glared at him. “What did you just say?”

  All color drained from Max’s face. “Jason’s dead, he’s going to be dead, because it’s always the groom’s fault, right? Ha, ha.” He forced a smile while Jason glared at him from the opposite end of the table.

  “I can’t believe this!” Jayne started pacing. “The wedding’s tomorrow! Everything has to be perfect! It’s not going to match!” She stopped pacing. Yeah, any second now, the hippo would charge. “What are you going to do about it?” And there it was.

  She directed the question at my mom.

  Max slid a knife toward Jason and nodded encouragingly.

  Jason eyed it like he was seriously contemplating cutting the bitch, while Colton calmly picked up the weapon and put it in his lap.

  Mom stood. “Now, I understand you’re upset.”

  Jayne flinched, a look of utter disbelief etched into her features.

  “But you need to calm down.”

  “Ooo.” Max shook his head. “Bad call, real bad call. It’s like telling the shark you’re a surfboard. It’s gonna bite you to make sure you aren’t a seal, then it’s going to kill you anyway. My leg, my leg!” I swatted him on the stomach.

  Jayne’s eyes narrowed as she zeroed in on Mom.

  The chairs around the table made a resounding screech as we all pushed away.

  “You said you would take care of things,” Jayne said in a low voice. “This is not taking care of things!”

  “Listen, sweetie—”

  “We’re getting married!” Max yelled.

  “What?” Colt roared as a doughnut went flying out of his hand, missing Jason’s bad eye by a centimeter.

  Everyone fell silent.

  “Surprise!” Max lifted his hands into the air. “You know this is as good a time as any, babykins.” He reached for my hand; I pulled away and glared. Son of a mon—! What was he doing?

  “Oh, honey!” Mom ran around the table
and pulled me in for a hug. “We never thought it would happen for you!”

  “Gee, thanks.” Nothing more encouraging than your own parents assigning you to spinsterhood and a childless future. “But we’re not—”

  “We are!” Max gritted his teeth and nodded toward Jayne.

  The fire left her.

  She slumped into her chair. “Max? You two, you’re really getting married?”

  “Yup.” He gripped my body so tight I wheezed. “Come here, baby.”

  He kissed me hard in front of everyone.

  I could have sworn I saw the knife in Colton’s hand twitch.

  “A toast!” Mom clapped and pulled out a bottle of champagne.

  “But it’s like ten thirty in the morning?”

  I received four stares that would have frozen hell over. “I mean, sounds great!”

  Max whispered in my ear, “If we don’t have alcohol, we’ll all perish. I’m fully convinced that I may not make it to my next birthday if I have to stay in this house any longer. Keep an eye on Jayne, make sure she stops harassing your mom, and I’ll go fix things.”

  “How the hell are you going to fix things?”

  He shrugged. “I know people. Now, toast to our future, and stand close to Colton. Oh, and remember our talk.”

  “Doughnut, I know, be the doughnut.”

  “No.” He rolled his eyes. “Eye of the Tiger!”

  With that he snuck out of the room, taking my dad with him.

  “Where are they going?” Mom asked, setting the champagne on the table.

  “Boy stuff, wedding stuff,” I lied.

  “This has just . . .” Mom wiped a tear from her eye. Oh, crap. “Turned into the most . . .” And here comes the chin-trembling. “Beautiful . . . wonderful . . .” And the waterworks. “Day!” She wiped her cheeks.

  “Mom, don’t cry.” I said it like an order.

  “I’m sorry.” She sobbed harder.

  “Mom, seriously, stop crying.”

  “I’m just so proud of you!”

  “Well, I did just solve world hunger by way of marriage to Max.” I clenched my teeth.

  “Really?” Jayne perked up.

  “Yeah.” I nodded enthusiastically. “Because that’s what weddings do, cause peace, not war.”