by Meghan Quinn
“What are you two doing?” Ryan asks, snapping us back into the conversation.
“Nothing,” I answer, knowing Colby isn’t going to speak up. “What did you have in mind?”
“Care to play a little pool with the champs?”
Even though it might just kill me, watching Colby blatantly stare at Rory the whole time, Ryan vying for my attention, I agree for the both of us, because I’m a sadist, and I want more time with Rory, even if it’s shared time.
Even if I have to watch Colby struggle to connect with her, even if I have to lend a hand and push her toward him, I’ll do it, because he’s my best friend. And who knows? Maybe during the night I’ll find flaws in Rory that change my mind about her.
One can only hope.
I lean past the pool table, looking toward the front door where I saw Colby take off over half an hour ago, Rory following closely behind.
Despite trying to loosen him up, he was a stoic bastard the entire time we played pool with the girls. Barely answering Rory’s questions, not showing an ounce of personality, and only giving Rory his attention when she wasn’t looking.
And yet, when he left, she still chased after him, leaving me alone with a very touchy-feely Ryan.
This is not how I planned on this night going. I should be over the fucking moon ecstatic that a hot-as-shit girl like Ryan is practically pulling my pants down with her eyes, but all I can think about is what Colby and Rory are doing.
Did they go up to one of the rooms?
Are they just talking? Or are they doing more?
I should be happy for Colby, and a part of me is, because he needs this, he needs someone to loosen him up, but a huge part of me is roaring with pure jealousy.
The kind of jealousy that will slowly eat away at me.
Sitting on the edge of the rail, nursing a beer, not in the mood to drink given my current predicament—which is surprising—I look at Ryan who seems bored as shit.
Maybe because I haven’t been as engaging as I usually am.
I’m off tonight. My normally fun and outgoing personality is nowhere to be found, and instead, a worried and obsessive man has taken over my body.
And there is only one person to blame.
Rory.
She’s thrown me off.
I wasn’t expecting to meet someone as captivating as her, as softly spoken yet sassy as her. Nor was I expecting to watch her fawn over my best friend, trying desperately to penetrate his closed-off wall.
It’s totally fucked with my head.
“Are you bored with me?” Ryan asks, sounding self-conscious, pulling me from my thoughts.
“What?” I tilt my head in her direction, beer held to my chest.
She turns completely toward me, her tits thrust forward, swelling out of the V-neck of her sweater, her blonde hair dancing across her shoulders. The girl is hot, but Jesus Christ, I can’t seem to muster any interest.
“You seem like your mind is somewhere else, so am I boring you?”
My mind is somewhere else, but I’m not about to reveal that little piece of information. Pretty sure telling a girl you’re lusting after her friend is not the way to start a conversation. “Nah.” I shake my head and take a sip of my beer. “Just trying to get back into civilian life, that’s all. The Academy is tough, and you have to be in a different frame of mind to succeed.”
And that’s the honest truth, because even though I’m a first-year cadet, and I’m not routinely checked for demerits, I still need to set a good example and make sure I’m getting all my work done and succeeding at it. You can’t drop the ball at school, so letting loose when on a break is sometimes harder than one would expect.
“I can’t even imagine.” She presses her hand to my arm, her shirt falling open, giving me the perfect view down her plentiful cleavage.
She’s offering, man. Take it.
Biting my bottom lip, willing myself to make a move, I turn toward her just as I see an angry flash of muscle bolt in my direction. Oh hell. Strutting toward me, looking none too happy, Colby stretches his hand out and barks, “Keys. I’m going to the car.”
I look around him to see if Rory is anywhere near him, but when I don’t see her, I ask, “Where’s Rory?”
He shrugs his shoulders and says, “Keys.”
“Colby.”
Narrowing his eyes, he repeats, “Keys,” through gritted teeth.
Relenting, knowing he’s too far gone for saving, I reach into my front pocket and hand him the keys. “Don’t leave without me.”
“Whatever.” He takes off, without another word, leaving an angry wake in his path.
Jesus, what the hell happened?
Knowing him as well as I do, I can make two guesses: Rory touched upon a sensitive topic; or he’s so fucking fearful of letting her into his world that he’s taking off before anything can happen.
Given Rory’s seemingly gentle personality, I’m going to guess it’s the latter. He’s putting distance between them before anything can even happen.
This should make me fucking ecstatic . . . but it doesn’t, because I’ve seen the pain in my friend’s eyes, and it guts me knowing once again, he’s not allowing himself to live.
“He doesn’t seem like he’s in a great mood,” Ryan says, watching Colby make his way through the crowd.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
Scanning past everyone, Ryan stands on her toes, “Do you see Rory?”
Searching, I spot her brown hair coming down the stairs of the massive house and quickly make her way to the back. Keeping my eyes on her, I say, “She’s on her way over here.”
Trying to act casual despite the thundering beat of my heart as she walks toward us, her hips swaying, her hair gathered to one side of her bare shoulders, she steals Ryan’s beer and downs a large gulp before talking.
“Everything okay?” Ryan asks, concerned.
She nods, swallowing another gulp of beer. “Yeah, just peachy.”
Shit, that’s almost as bad when a girl says “fine” and they don’t really mean “fine.” What the hell did Colby say to her?
Even though I barely know this girl, I feel this need to make her feel better, to put that gorgeous smile back on her face, so even though I don’t necessarily want to smooth things over with Colby, I say, “You have to cut him a break. He’s a good guy.”
“I’m sure he is. I’m just . . . frustrated.” Rory joins me on the rail and leans against it, her feminine scent making its way to my nose, making me feel drunk on her instead of on the little beer I’ve had. “Why are men so frustrating?”
She turns toward me, looking for an answer.
Joking, I say, “Hey, I’m easy. Don’t lump me in with Colby.”
I’m really easy. All Rory has to do is give me one look and I’ll be hers for the night. Easily. Hell, not just for the night. I’ve talked to her for less than five minutes in total, and yet my want for her is something enormous.
But she doesn’t give me the green light. Instead, she turns away and crosses her arms over her chest. “There is no way I’m going to be able to get over tonight with the way he left things.” She huffs out a frustrated breath and bites her bottom lip.
Fuck, this girl. Colby's an idiot for walking away from her, leaving her at this party for any other guy to hit on. I know why he did, but she's . . . unique. I've never felt such instant attraction, and I know Colby is feeling the same. He deserves her, dickhead. And, if I'm really honest, she wants Colby, so that should be enough of a reason to keep my distance. If I want to spend time with her, it will happen in only one way. When she’s Colby's. Eventually.
I might shoot myself in the head after this, but bro-code and all. “Want me to set up a gathering so you can talk to him?”
Rory whips to my side, disbelief in her eyes. “You would do that?”
I shrug my shoulders casually. “Yeah, why not? We can all go bowling or some shit like that. I won’t tell him you’re coming, and you and Ryan ca
n just show up. That sound good?”
“Oh my God, that would be amazing.” Rory reaches up and pulls me into a hug, squeezing me tight.
And fuck, does my heart hammer into my throat, making it impossible to breathe.
Briefly, I shut my eyes, taking in the way she feels against my body. I memorize her smell. I revel in her small hands pressing against my back. I marvel at the way she can make me feel like such a powerful man with such a tiny hug.
I take my time letting go, not wanting to see her leave my arms, but also knowing if I linger too long, my urge to keep her there might be too damn obvious.
Colby doesn’t want any distractions, and I know him. He might want her, but I doubt he’ll actually pursue her. Not this close to the end of school. Not this close to achieving his dreams.
He’s not a man who can have dual priorities. Unlike me.
I won’t encroach, and I’ll still encourage my boy to find some joy in Rory. God knows he deserves someone who brings life to his battered soul. If they work out and it sticks, he’ll be better off. I know that even now. And I’ll deal. I’ll experience every moment knowing I wouldn’t have it otherwise. If not . . . I’ll wait.
I already believe it’s worth it.
That she is worth it.
Chapter Two
STRYDER
Over a year later, a month after graduation . . .
“Hey man.” A strong hand grips my shoulder, squeezing it tightly before pulling away. “At it again, huh?” He takes a seat next to me, gathering the attention of the bartender with a nod and then pointing to the tumbler in front of me.
“Every. Damn. Night,” I slur out, staring at my almost-empty drink. Where else should I be? No one gives two fucks. “What are you doing here?”
“Mom was worried about you.”
I scoff. “Please, she’s worried about her car I borrowed. Tell her not to worry, I’ll take an Uber.”
My mom has lost the ability to care about her children, and all she cares about are her possessions. It’s why I acted like a petulant child and took her car tonight. I’m a fucking graduate from the United States Air Force Academy and yet, I act like I’m still eighteen, rebelling like a little punk.
Rebelling and drinking.
So much drinking.
Trying to forget.
Needing to forget.
It’s what happens when you don’t move forward in your life, when everyone else around you is living their dreams.
“No, she’s worried about you,” Shane, my brother says, taking the drink from the bartender and pulling a little gulp from the glass. “This is the fifth night in a row that you’ve come here and this is the fifth night in a row you’re not going to be able to drive home.”
I shrug. “I don’t mind sleeping in the car.”
“Stryder, come on. It can’t be that bad.”
His comment makes me straight up laugh out loud, throwing my head back, the sound so fake in my ears. “Not that bad?” I swirl the amber liquid in my glass around a few times before continuing. “You can’t say that unless you’re in my position. You have no fucking clue how bad it is for me.” I down the rest of my drink and signal the bartender for another. “He didn’t even come to my graduation,” I sputter out. Hatred for my father is now beyond consuming. I can’t think about him without becoming enraged. He didn’t fucking come. Too ashamed. Bastard.
“He was upset.”
He was upset. Fuck that shit. I’m his goddamn son, and he didn’t have the decency to show up to my graduation. No one did. I stood there, on the football field, empty as a fucking shell as everyone else around me had someone cheering them on, supporting them.
I had no one.
I have no one.
I point toward the end of the bar, swaying. Catching myself before falling off the bar stool, I say, “If you’re going to defend his actions, then you can get the fuck away from me.”
He sighs heavily. “I’m just saying he was upset. Everyone in the family has become a fighter pilot, Stryder.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I yell, pointing at my chest, drawing unwanted attention my way from others in the bar. “Believe me, I know more than anyone how I’m the one and only Sheppard boy who didn’t make flight school. I think about it every damn day, especially when I’m performing my shitty job instead of learning how to fly a goddamn plane.” I push my hand through my wet hair, sweaty from the alcohol I’ve consumed.
It’s routine now. Wake up, work out, go to work, leave work, drink until I can forget, until I feel so incredibly numb that making my way back to my parents’ house doesn’t feel as painful as it usually is.
Since Shane is in town right now, he’s been my driver for the past few nights. I’m beginning to think he doesn’t mind making the trip. That or he enjoys badgering me just like my father.
It might be the second reason.
“Dude, you’re going to have to get over this at some point. You know that, right?”
I point to my chest. “Me? Get over it? Fuck, man, I wish I could get over it. I’m begging to get over it, but Dad won’t allow that. He reminds me daily what a huge disappointment I am to him.”
It’s daily. Every time I’m in the same room as him. He sneers, he makes a rude remark; he tells me what a waste of breath I am. The only reason I’m still living under his roof is because I have no other place to go.
“Maybe you need to move out.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. But Dad won’t let me live with the scrubs on base despite how much he hates me, and because apartments are so damn expensive, I can’t make it work. Not going to happen.”
“What about friends? Can you crash with them for a while? At least give you and Dad some distance?”
“Hardie and Joey are both in fucking flight school. So is Colby, who I haven’t talked to since graduation. High school friends are doing their own thing.” I shake my head. I have no one. I was once the life of every party. The auto-invite friend. The guy who was never left alone. But now? No one gives a fuck. I’m the loser who didn’t make it into flight school. Just as my dad reminds me. I have no one.
“Not even an old girlfriend or fling?”
Like a fling would really let me . . .
Unless . . .
She’s not a fling, but would she let me stay with her?
Hmm . . .
“What’s that look mean?” Shane asks as I pull my phone from my pocket.
“I think I know someone who would take me in.”
“Yeah?”
I nod and start typing away, hoping it’s not too late to ask her.
I down the rest of my drink and order another one, grateful for the weekend coming up tomorrow, because I have at least five more drinks waiting for me, calling my name. Not blacking out isn’t an option. I need to forget everything, and thank fuck, Shane is already here to pick me up off the floor. And I won’t feel fucking guilty about that. Bottoms up!
“Stryder?”
Yup, I know that familiar voice.
Turning on my bar stool, losing my balance and falling into Shane, I laugh, trying to focus on the two figures in front of me; one blonde and one brunette.
Brunette?
I don’t remember ordering up a brunette.
I bring my attention to the blonde silhouette and plaster on a very drunk smile while opening up my arms.
“Ryyyyyan,” I slur, swaying back and forth and lunging forward, into her arms.
With an ooompf, she catches me, my chest pressing into hers, my cheek to hers.
I hadn’t spoken to her since a few days after we went bowling during Thanksgiving break, but then I ran into her at the grocery store last week. She was headed to a party and invited me to tag along. With nothing better to do, I joined her. We spent the night drinking and joking around while playing cards. Totally innocent.
Exactly what I needed at the time.
And hopefully, now it’ll be the same.
But hell, I didn’
t expect her to bring a friend.
“Who’s your friend?” I ask, sinking into her embrace.
Swatting me away, she says, “You know Rory, you idiot.”
Rory?
Standing tall, eyes blinking rapidly, I try to focus on the individual standing a few feet away.
Brown hair.
Green eyes.
Heart-shaped lips.
Fuck . . . how could I not recognize her? Maybe because I’ve downed five glasses of scotch and can’t tell my shoe from my ass at this point.
When was the last time I saw her? At the hangar, when she jumped for the first time? That fucking day, the joy she exuded, the concern she had for me . . . it about ripped me apart. I couldn’t reach over and take her as mine, kiss that worry off her face, the worry she had for me. Because she wasn’t fucking mine.
Months later, she still has the same effect on me. Hell, she still haunts me every damn day.
How could she not? How could I not dream of those eyes? I’ve been mesmerized by them since the very first night I met her.
I’ve worked so damn hard over the last year trying to get her out of my head, trying to fuck my way through Colorado Springs, making every attempt to forget about her.
And with every sad and pathetic fuck, I felt more and more empty. I had to rely on the little moments I had with her to fill me back up. Fucking pathetic. Can’t fly. Can’t fuck.
Focusing on her, or trying to . . . because everything is so damn blurry, I say, “Rory, the dream crusher. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, or heard about you for that matter. How’s your life? Still devastating Colby?”
I don’t know why the words fell out of my mouth—besides the obvious liquor. It’s probably because I want to keep her at an arm’s length. It’s what I’ve done from the very beginning. I refused to be cut to the core every time I saw her.
“Stryder,” Ryan says. Oh crap. She sounds mad.
“What?” I lean into Ryan’s grasp, afraid I might topple over if I don’t hold on to something.
She pinches my side and points at Rory. “Apologize. That was really mean.”
