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Excerpt

“How’d dinner go last night?” Noel asks, handing me another drink and refilling the chip bowl.

Nash and Dustin look at me expectantly, the room suddenly closing in on me. I swear the lights dimmed on cue, leaving me in a single spotlight, like some old detective movie. Sweat forms on my brow, all the anxiety that had instantly dissipated earlier returning in a flash.

“F-fine,” I choke out. I take a long swig of my beer, my throat contracting from the sudden movement, making it hard to swallow.

Please do not let me choke on beer in front of these guys…

“Just fine?” Dustin follows up. His tone is inquisitive, but not accusatory. Which makes me feel a little better. But only a little.

I nod, my throat finally relaxing enough for me to finish downing my gulp. “Errr, well, what is it that you’re after?”

To know what my intentions are with Sylvie?

“To know exactly what your intentions are with our girl? And if we need to be worried,” Nash says.

Oh. Well…shit…

I nod again. It seems to be the only movement I can make, the rest of me frozen. I don’t know how to answer this. Yes, I know what I want from whatever is going on between Sylvie and me. And I think I have an idea of what she is looking for. Maybe. But I don’t want to put words in her mouth and certainly don’t want to make something of nothing.

At the same time, admitting to these guys that I have feelings for her—real feelings—might help my chances. These guys are her best friends. If anyone knows where her head might be, it’s them. Not to mention, they said I’m part of the group, right? That’s what guys talk about while drinking beer and watching the game—or, in this case, playing a game. Girls.

Here goes nothing…

“Nothing dastardly, I can promise you that,” I tell them. Each one of them smiles, the tension easing. “Sylvie’s…special.”

“We know,” Noel comments. Of course they know. Leaning forward, he looks me directly in the eye. It’s a move that feels like it should be disconcerting, but it’s not. It’s…comforting. Like he’s letting me know that he’s on my side. “It’s plain as day that you’re crazy about her, always has been. Which is good, because she deserves someone who’s going to treat her like she hung the moon.”

“Just know that if you hurt her, we’ll hurt you,” Nash adds.

“No we won’t,” Dustin chides.

The twins glare at him for a long moment before Nash mutters, “Speak for yourself, rockstar.”

“Ignore him; he’s all talk,” Dustin says.

I chuckle, trying to keep my composure. Relief rushes through me, muscles I didn’t realize I had tensed loosening as I sit back in my chair.

“I absolutely think she hung the moon,” I say, stealing his phrase. “And I’d do anything to make her happy.” 

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About the Author

USA Today Best Selling Claire Hastings is a walking, talking awkward moment. She loves Diet Coke, gummi bears, the beach, and books (obvs). When not reading she can usually be found hanging with friends at a soccer match or grabbing food (although she probably still has a book in her purse). She and her husband live in Atlanta.

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