Christ.
I roll my eyes and move back into position, slowly moving us around the dance floor.
“Come on, it wasn’t a bad entrance.”
“You pretended your bouquet was a penis and tried to penetrate me.”
She covers her mouth and snorts, leaning her head into my chest, still finding the damn entrance funny.
“I’m sorry. But I can’t get the look on your face from the first bouquet probe out of my head.” She laughs some more, her shoulders shaking in my hold.
“Laugh it up, Ryan,” I mumble.
“You were so surprised. Straight-up O face. And how you swatted me away . . . classic.” More chuckling.
“Are you done?”
She shakes her head. “Nope, that image is going to last me a while. Sorry, bud.”
Great.
* * *
“How’s the steak?” Ryan asks, mouth full of the vegetarian option, some kind of lasagna with carrots and spinach.
“Good,” I answer, cutting into the soft-as-hell meat. Straight-up best steak I’ve ever had.
Reaching around my arm, she sticks her fork into the piece of steak I just cut and plops it in her mouth.
Uh, excuse me?
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Sampling.” She takes a bite of my mashed potatoes. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
I push her fork away when she reaches in for another bite. “You can’t just take people’s food without asking. Where are your manners?”
“We’re friends, it’s allowed. Questions not necessary.”
“Says who?” I ask, swatting her away again and bringing my plate to the side, out of her reach.
“Says all the friend rule books. Come on, you can have some of this delicious lasagna.” She pushes her plate toward me.
“It looks like lasagna soup.” The Italian dish is oozing all over her plate, a soupy-like base providing coverage at the bottom.
She scoops up some of the sauce and it falls right through the tines of her fork. “Yeah, I don’t think they let this thing rest very long. That’s why you should really share your steak with me. You don’t want me passing out during my speech, do you?”
God, the fucking speeches. I’m all for being there for Stryder, but having to come up with a speech has been absolute torture. I hate talking in front of people.
The guys on my squadron gave me some very good advice.
Get drunk.
Tell Stryder you love him. And say here’s to the bride and groom.
Simple.
And that’s exactly what I plan on doing.
“Colby, please.” Ryan bats her ridiculously long eyelashes at me.
“No. Chew on your soup.”
She huffs. “And here I thought you were in the Air Force to protect and serve.” She pokes me in the arm. “Protect me from this lasagna and serve me up your steak.”
I chew on my steak, trying to hold back the smile pulling at my lips. I swallow hard and say, “It’s serve and protect, not protect and serve.”
“Ohhhh nooo, you’re not getting out of this on a technicality.” She points to her mouth with her fork. “Right there, shoot it right down the gullet. Let’s go, Brooks.”
This woman. I swear to God I’m not going to make it through the night without killing her.
* * *
“Do you want another drink?” Ryan asks. I eye my empty glass of rum and Coke and nod. Steak and mashed potatoes have been consumed, and we’re waiting on the DJ to hand over the mic.
“Yeah, I’m going to get one.” I’m not even feeling a buzz. Clearly I didn’t do a good enough job getting drunk for these speeches. “Can I get you anything?”
“I’ll go with you.” Ryan pushes her chair back, and I offer my hand to help her up before I get up myself. “Thank you.” She winks. “Such a gentleman.”
I push my seat in and look around the room. It’s a small wedding, since Stryder’s family isn’t in attendance, but it’s nice not being surrounded by a lot of people who you don’t know, especially when I have to make a speech soon.
Stryder and Rory are talking to the guests around the barn-style-decorated reception hall, thanking everyone for attending, looking so goddamn in love that it’s hard to not be happy for them, even when I’m carrying maybe a one percent amount of bitter in my heart.
Just one percent. I think I’m allowed that. It doesn’t eclipse my happiness for them, but it is a reminder that I’m a lonely motherfucker.
“You know, that scowl makes you look jealous.”
Am I scowling? Shit.
“Have a headache.”
Ryan sees right through me and pokes me in the side. “Liar. Don’t worry, we’re about to do a few shots to get you through this next part of the night, and then it’s dancing time until we feed each other cake.”
She twirls, extending her arms out and taking in the empty dance floor. Wisps of her blonde hair float around her face as she smiles back at me. She has such a carefree spirit. It’s like there isn’t a worry or care in her life. And I envy that. Don’t ever remember a time where I felt that.
My mind focuses on what she said as we reach the bar and she orders four shots of whiskey. “I’m not dancing. And I’m not sure if you’ve forgotten, but we’re not the bride and groom, so we don’t feed each other cake.”
She hands me a shot and clinks our glasses together, quickly downing the amber liquid. With a lift of her finger, she encourages me to take my shot. “Oh, you’re dancing, trust me on that. And if dessert was anything like dinner, you’ll be feeding me cake.”
I take the shot and then follow up rapidly with a second only to order a rum and Coke and take it to our seats.
“Are you nervous about your speech?”
I shrug. “Not excited about it. What about you?”
She waves at someone in the distance and takes a sip of her drink. “No, I’m just going to talk about all the pancakes we’ve consumed together and the free bacon we were able to score.”
“Sounds like a solid speech.”
“I think so.” She leans back in her chair and eyes me up and down. “You know, you’ve gotten bigger from when I first met you when you were at the Air Force Academy.”
“That’s what working out will do to you,” I answer, direct and a little uncomfortable under her gaze.
“Some might say you’re a little macho.”
That makes me snort. I’m anything but macho. I might have about thirty more pounds of muscle on me, but there are guys in the Air Force much bigger than I am. Granted, they don’t fly fighters. You have to be able to fit in the cockpit to fly.
“Are you trying to make me uncomfortable?”
“Am I taking your mind off the speech?”
Damn it, she is.
I don’t answer her and instead, sip from my drink, causing her to laugh and push my leg. “God, you are so stubborn. Just admit it, I’m distracting you.”
“Unfortunately, you are and not to my liking.”
“But I’m growing on you.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
I pass my hand over my face and let out a heavy sigh. “When I signed up for this best man gig, I never considered I’d have to hang out with you all night.”
“And look how lucky you are.” She winks and takes another sip.
Lucky. “Yeah, that’s one way to describe it.”
Chapter Two
RYAN
Have you ever seen a car accident on the side of the road and thought, I really should look away, but I can’t? You try desperately to avoid the accident but no matter how hard you try, your eyes are fixated on it. So morbid of humans, right?
That’s how I feel right now as Colby stands to take the mic from the DJ who just took it from me. My speech went swimmingly. Made people laugh when I talked about sharing custody of Stryder at one point, when he was living between Rory’s and my place. I made Rory cry when I talked about her being the sister I never ha
d, and wrapped it up with a sweet little gift, a framed picture of an animated pancake to remind Rory that no matter what happens, I’m always here to share pancakes with.
It was fantastic.
Totally killed it.
And now it’s Colby’s turn.
He shifts back and forth. Clears his throat. Grips his tumbler incredibly hard as he stares at the ground.
I wait, holding my breath, hoping and praying this goes well for him.
I know he’s happy for Stryder and Rory, it’s obvious from the wonderful, brotherly relationship he shares with Stryder, but it’s still got to be awkward. Rory was his girlfriend, the girl he thought he was going to marry one day. It can’t be easy standing up there.
And I am going to reward him for having the decency . . . and balls . . . for doing this. I have plans for both of us after speeches, involving the bar and the dance floor, with a touch of cake later.
Why am I giving him so much attention? Because I think he’s a good guy, and because Rory asked me to look out for him, to make sure he had a good time. And if anything, I know how to have a good time.
The room falls silent as Colby lets out a long breath and then looks at Stryder.
“Ten years ago, I was waiting in line to be admitted into the Air Force Academy, my duffel at my side, and a shit ton of information being thrown my way. I’d prepared my entire life for that moment, to become a cadet in training, and I’d thought I was ready.” He shakes his head. “God, was I wrong.” Low laughter falls throughout the room. “I was scared once I was there. I might have told you otherwise, that I was stoic and excited, but I’m going to be honest, I was terrified.” Colby points at Stryder, “But not as terrified as this guy.”
“Oh fuck off.” Stryder laughs, draping his arm around Rory.
“Nah, we were both shaking in our combat boots, but I remember looking at Stryder and seeing something in him that I saw in myself: determination. I didn’t know it at first, but that one look secured the bond I always wanted. A brother. A family. He became my right-hand man, someone I could depend on whenever I needed him, and someone who always put me first.” He pauses, allowing those words to hang heavy in the room.
Stryder always puts everyone first; it’s one of his best qualities. He’s always looking out for others, one of the many reasons Rory fell in love with him.
Colby turns his attention to Rory and says, “Rory, I couldn’t be happier to share my best friend with you. You’re lucky because you found the real deal, and I know deep in my soul, the love he has for you is greater than any other love on this earth.”
Jesus Christ. I wipe away a tear at the same time Rory does. Colby holds up his glass to everyone. “To Rory and Stryder, I love you both dearly and couldn’t be happier that you have found each other. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” everyone says before taking a sip of their drinks and clapping for the well-spoken Colby.
Sharing a quick hug with the bride, Colby turns to Stryder and pulls him into a giant bear hug. They both hold each other a little longer than expected, Stryder whispering something into Colby’s ear. When they pull away, they both smile at each other before taking their seats again.
I’m still wiping my tears when Colby spreads his legs and slouches in his seat, letting out a long breath. When he eyes me, a stupid smile crosses his lips. “Make you cry?”
“No, it’s really dusty in here.”
“Ha, totally made you cry.”
I push his shoulder. “Shut up. It was unexpected, that’s all. You don’t have to be a dick about it.”
He rests his arm along the back of my chair, smug and happy with himself. “Just take it as payback for the penis bouquet probing earlier.”
“Oh, you’re evil, you know that?” I blot at my eyes. “My eyelashes are going to fall off.”
“Excuse me?” He leans back, startled, as if I told him my eye was about to pop out of its socket.
I carefully dry my eye with my index finger, making sure to keep everything in place. “Do you really think these eyelashes are real? Oh, you’re so sweet, Colby.” I pat his leg. “You don’t want to know the kind of work it took to put all of this together.” I motion to my body.
“What? You’re not naturally like that?”
When I look at him, I see that devilish smile again, and I’m pretty sure that was sarcasm.
How dare he.
Playfully I smack his leg. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that, Brooks.” I stand and push my chair back under the table. “Come on, we have a bar to visit.”
“Do you really believe I’m going to drink and dance with you?”
“Yeah, I do. So get your ass up and stop wasting valuable drinking time. Open bar, you fool. It’s our duty to make sure the bride and groom get their money’s worth.”
* * *
“This is stupid.”
“Is it? Because you can go dance, that has always been the option. You don’t have to answer the question.”
Colby has stripped down to his button-up shirt now, sleeves rolled, top two buttons undone, showing off a little V of tanned and ripped skin.
I looked, I gawked, and I’m okay with it. I’m a woman, and I’m allowed to look at men. Especially this very fine specimen in front of me.
“I’m not dancing.”
I twirl the shot glass in front of him and say, “Then drink or dance.”
We are sitting at our table, a tray of shots in front of us—slightly watered down with some juice because, hey, we want to be able to walk tomorrow morning—and playing a fair game of truth or dare.
“You’re the devil.”
“I’m smart.” I tap my temple.
“I can’t even punish you with dancing because you want to dance.”
“Exactly, sooo . . . why don’t you just take me out on the dance floor already?”
“Never.” He runs a hand through his short brown hair and sighs. “What was the question again?”
“You’re stalling.”
“Just tell me the damn question again.”
God, he’s funny when he gets frustrated and flustered. He’s a far cry from the closed-off Colby I first met, and I feel like his time with Rory and growing up has opened him up even more to the people around him. It’s nice. He used to be like a brick wall to talk to, now a softer, cushier wall that’s easily penetrable.
Granted, he’s still stubborn and reluctant to share, but at least he jokes around and smiles on occasion.
“The question is”—I pause for dramatic effect—“have you ever measured your penis?”
He lets out an exasperated breath and drags his hand over his face. “Jesus Christ.” He eyes the shot and then says, “Yes.”
I squeal like a little girl and clap my hands, drawing attention to us. “I knew it.”
“You’re ridiculous. Your questions aren’t fair.”
“It’s not my fault you can’t seem to ask me good questions.”
“I can’t think of this kind of shit on the spot. My head is full with other kinds of information, I don’t have room to think about random questions.”
“Oh yeah? What kind of information? Airplane stuff?”
He brings a shot glass to his mouth and swallows it quickly, even though he didn’t have to since he answered the question. “Pretty much.”
“Well, that seems boring. Do you have a life outside of flying?”
He purses his lips and shakes his head. “Nope.”
“Does that make you a workaholic?”
He takes another shot glass but this time hands it to me and tips his chin up for me to drink. Taking his command, I down the drink and put the empty glass next to his.
“Am I a workaholic? No, I’m a fighter pilot for the United States Air Force. I have to be thinking about my job all the time to stay alert when I’m in the cockpit.”
“That makes sense.” I hand him a shot glass this time. “And what about when you’re not in the cockpit. What are you doing?”
&nbs
p; He shrugs. “Hang out at my house. Read.”
“Like novels?”
“Yeah, fictional combat shit.” He takes down another shot. “It’s interesting to me. Do you not read books?”
“I mean, I dabble here and there when Oprah convinces me to try her next tearjerker that will make me contemplate my entire life.”
He hands me a shot glass. “So only books Oprah approves of?”
“Pretty much.” I take the shot, not even feeling the burn anymore. “I do like to watch a lot of porn though.”
Colby sits up and starts choking. My confession apparently shocks him. “What?” he asks mid cough.
“I said I like to watch a lot of porn. I don’t know, it’s fun to me. What kind of porn do you watch?”
He looks around, his eyes scanning the room, I think to make sure no one is listening to our conversation. “Can you keep your voice down?”
“What? We’re adults, we can talk about porn.”
“There are kids on the dance floor, and Rory’s parents are a few tables away.”
“Oh please. I bet they totally watch porn in their matching sweaters. A couple who matches most definitely watches the freaky stuff together.”
I have no idea if that’s true. I’ve known Mr. and Mrs. Oaks for the longest time—they’re like second parents to me—so thinking about them getting it on is vomit-worthy, but I can’t help but enjoy the ghostly white look on Colby’s face.
It’s priceless.
Never pegged him for a prude.
“At least tell me the last time you had sex.”
He takes another shot and shakes his head. “Yeah, I think we’re done with this conversation.”
I scoot on the edge of my seat and place both my hands on his knees. “Ohhh, that makes me believe it wasn’t recent. Am I right?”
He chews on the side of his cheek, his jaw working back and forth. “I said we’re done with this conversation.”
“And because you said so, that means we’re done?”
The Left Side of Perfect Page 2
