3. Aubree

Cheryl leans in close, a smirk clearly written on her face. “Just do it, Bree.” She comes even closer to nudge me, her tipsiness making her sway as she adds, “You can’t keep teasing him like this.”

The grin on her face is as wide as it can be as her gaze lifts from me and moves to the topic of the conversation behind me.

My cheeks can’t get any hotter.

“Your drink’s empty.” A deep yet flirtatious man’s voice reaches us from down the bar. Kill me now. Cheryl and I grabbed barstools beside Nate and Jackson when the game went into overtime. Both of them have since moved. It’s like musical chairs in this place.

It took a whole two minutes for the guys to my right to start chatting us up. They weren’t paying attention to the game in the least.

“Let us buy you your next round. What are you ladies drinking?”

He raises his voice to speak over the sounds of the game on the bar’s TVs. The crowd roars in the background. Whistles blow. I don’t care much about the score, but the atmosphere is amped up. The end of the night is getting close.

Cheryl beams at me. “See? If you don’t make your move, somebody else is going to step in. Those guys are hot.”

“Those guys are hot because you’re drunk,” I joke, although I don’t have much room to talk. I, too, am far from sober.

“No, they’re genuinely hot.” Cheryl sneaks a peek over her shoulder, her cheeks turning a bright pink as she takes them in.

The bar is emptying out. Quite a few people reached their limit by the fourth quarter and headed home, but Cheryl’s having a good time. Nate and Anne made it through most of the fourth before they went home to make out with each other.

And Jackson …

Jackson is still here.

I can feel him in the bar. Maybe it’s just because I’m drunk as well, but I am acutely aware he’s still here, even with my back turned. He’s behind me now at the booth I was sitting at only an hour or so ago.

I wonder if he’s watching. If those guys come closer, he’s going to see. The Peanut Bar isn’t that big, and there aren’t many people left. Nerves eat at me as I wonder if he even cares. All I can think about while these guys are flirting with me, is whether or not Jackson can see. What the hell is wrong with me?

With a short sigh, I push my beer away and look back at my good friend. Her teeth are sunken into her bottom lip as she glances their way again.

Cheryl’s right. I should make a move, one way or the other. Three years is a long time to shove my feelings down. Three years is a long time not to go home with a man because of a little crush that’s never going to go anywhere. I should either get up and confess to Jackson that my heart skips a beat every time I see him here, or I should let those guys buy us drinks.

The moment I suck in a breath and peek at Jackson, I turn right back around.

It’s silly to be afraid of rejection like this, but I am. If he outright turned me down, it would hurt like hell. And then I could never show my face again at this bar. Never ever. This place is like a second home to me.

“Pale ale,” I call to the guys down the bar. The one closest to me nods and I shrug, offering a smile. “That’s what I’m having, anyway.” He’s cute. Handsome even, although the jersey makes him seem a little young. He’s definitely in college, and old enough to be in a bar so I’m thinking twenty-two maybe.

“I’m tempted to ask him if he’s going to be a dentist because his teeth are freaking perfect,” I comment to Cheryl and she pats my arm a little too hard.

“Hell yes,” she says, a little too loud. “Now we’re going to have some fun. Or at least you are.” She gets up from her stool, the legs scraping against the wooden floor as if she’s leaving me. The urge to grab her arm and cling to her has never been stronger.

“What?” The one word that spills out of my mouth sounds utterly pathetic and I don’t even care. “You are not leaving me,” I whisper in a hushed voice.

“I’m just going to the restroom. You get the first pick of the guys.”

“Cheryl!” I reach for her sleeve, but she’s already too far to pull her back.

The two guys don’t miss a beat sliding down farther, like they’re coming in for the kill.

“So, a pale ale?” the blond with the gorgeous smile questions and then motions for Dani. I don’t miss how high her brow arches and that sly, comical smile she gives me.

“Mm-hm.” I don’t trust myself to speak, but I settle on some small talk.

“Hi, guys. Having a good night so far?”

“Depends,” the blond one says. “Are you?”

My cheeks flare with heat. He’s not subtle in the least but I play it casually. “I always have fun on Sunday nights.”

The truth is, I’m always invested in being here on Sunday nights. Our crew has a good time together and it’s my wind down time. My safe place. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t here for Jackson too. My smile slips as I think of him yet again. I like being around him. I like having an excuse to look at him and listen to his jokes and just be in the same room. I’ve had to come to terms with making the most of it and enjoying my Sundays over the last three years. If it was truly painful to be here with him, that wouldn’t be any fun.

The barstool scrapes as the blond hunk takes the stool next to mine, the one that used to be Cheryl’s, and purses his lips. “You could have more fun, I bet.” His tone is soothing, but I see through it all.

“Oh yeah? And how’s that?” If I wasn’t thinking of Jackson, I’d ask him if he wanted to cut to the chase.

As it is, even when I’m looking at this man who’s obviously interested in me, all I see is the image of Jackson sitting here only hours ago.

My heart’s beating faster, but I don’t know if it’s because I’m genuinely interested in this guy or because I’m nervous as hell about what’s going to happen. If I click with some random man at the bar, what happens to my feelings about Jackson? Probably nothing. He doesn’t have any for me, so we’d both move on with our lives like grown adults. All the while this guy talks, my thoughts scream in my head. I nod and comment when it seems appropriate. His friend hovers, more invested in the game now.

But damn if I don’t want Jackson to be jealous. At least for him to notice that someone else has approached me. It sends a shiver down my spine to imagine his eyes on us, but I don’t look to see if he’s watching.

“What are you doing after this?” the blond hunk questions. My lips part but someone else speaks before I can.

“We’re going to my place.” Jackson’s deep, masculine voice breaks into our conversation and heats my core.

My heart pounds and I let out a long breath. It’s so damn hot in here. I hadn’t noticed that before. I pull at my sweater, hoping to feel a little breeze.

Before I can say anything, shock and heat overwhelming me, Jackson’s strong arm wraps around my lower waist. The thermostat must have fucking broken in this place.

Jackson’s body curls around mine as he bends down and kisses the crook of my neck. Right there in that spot beneath my ear and I think I must have died. It’s heaven, it’s sinful. It’s a fantasy come to life. “That’s what she’s doing after this.” His chest is a deep rumble against my shoulder and I can barely look back at the man who just bought me a drink.

I don’t even know how I’m sitting upright.

The brush of his lips fills me with butterflies. A fluttering mess of them. Gulping down the beer, I give myself a moment to steady. Jackson. Possessive of me in the bar just because a guy offered me a drink?

This might be my only shot to play along with him. I turn my face to his and kiss his cheek before I can overthink this. If he’s going to cross this line for a joke or whatever Jackson’s thinking … I’m going to cross it too.

My blond would-be hero throws his hands up with a smile when I glance back at him. “Didn’t realize.”

“Sorry, I should have said—” I’m not able to finish before Jackson cuts me off.

“No problem.” His tone is familiar, yet harder, more dominating. He leaves no room for further conversation. And the other guys get the hint.

They back off, looking toward the hall leading to the restroom, leaving me staring up at him, his arm still wrapped around me. His hold is looser now, but it’s still there.

“You drunk?” he questions, glancing down at me for only a moment.

Maybe more than a little tipsy. “Not so drunk that I don’t know what I want.” The words slip out before I can stop them and his brow raises in surprise.

I rip my gaze away and take another sip of beer, but it doesn’t do anything to change the way I feel right now.

I’ve never been hornier in my life. I didn’t come here with sex on my mind. I’m in leggings and a sweater. That should be enough of a clue that I didn’t plan on doing anything but cuddling up with a hangover cure after this.

Jackson says something and I’m not quite sure what, but his hand leaves the bar and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him leave me like this.

“What was that?” I question, my voice sultry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.

“Just cockblocking you,” Jackson jokes. He picks up his drink from the bar behind me. That hammering in my chest intensifies. Is he … is he toying with me? ’Cause that kiss is still burning my neck.

“Oh yeah? What would you call this?” I say, then lean forward, hook my arm around his neck, and kiss him full on the mouth. My lips press against his and at first they’re hard, but they mold to mine instantly.

He kisses me back with an intensity I didn’t expect. He tastes like beer and hunger. He tastes better than I ever imagined he would. I kiss him deeper, wanting to remember it after tonight.

That’s when it hits me. We’re in the freaking bar still. Everyone is here. His sister. Our friends. I pull away with a slight panic.

Jackson smirks down at me. A gorgeous, handsome, and somewhat cocky smirk. It’s a look that keeps me calm while everything else blurs around us.

I almost ask him if he wants to get out of here, but the words fall short. My heart stops with the fear that he’ll reject me. Tell me it was all in fun, and it’s not like that. I’m just a friend of his sister. I just wanted those guys to back off. That’s what he’ll say.

In my short moment of fear, Jackson pushes a stray lock of my hair back and leans in again for a gentle, yet demanding kiss.

This time, he flicks his tongue against my lips until I part them for him. Inwardly I sigh with relief. It’s been three years of waiting, and honestly, I thought it would be a lifetime. I never thought Jackson would kiss me at all and especially not like this. He’s tasting me like I tasted him. I swear, he wants me too.

He lets out a groan against my mouth. “You want to get out of here?”