Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Knight

I scan the crowd of guests, looking for one face in particular. Last night, in anticipation of this homecoming celebration, I skimmed through Sofia's socials. I wanted to know what to expect… and, okay, I might have been snooping to see if there's a guy in her life now. I suppose it's none of my business, but I keep telling myself that it's common courtesy to check.

Socials didn't tell me much, though. There were a few images of her friends, and she was tagged in a couple of holoscans posted by someone named Emily, but there's surprisingly little new information to be gleaned from her accounts.

On the bright side, she didn't delete or block me, despite years of little to no contact. I haven't seen her since we graduated from college, since I'm usually only home for holidays, which is when her family leaves to visit family in Minnesota.

I've been looking forward to seeing her since Sergio's call last week. So far, however, there's no sign of her.

What if she doesn't come?

I clutch my bottle of home brewed beer and scan the sea of familiar faces.

"Well?" Sage LeClerc nods to the hand-labeled glass. "What do you think?"

I've been so distracted that I haven't taken a sip of it yet. I take a quick swig from the bottle so that I can give her honest feedback. As soon as the carbonation hits my tongue, my eyes widen. I'm not usually an IPA guy—it's the bitterness, I think— but this beer is smooth and slightly creamy while still carrying a hoppy depth.

"It's freaking incredible, " I tell her. "Are you selling this yet or what?"

Sage laughs and pats my shoulder. "No, it's just a hobby, although Coop is pestering me to get licensed so that he can sell it at his restaurant. I'm still learning, though."

"You could teach a master class with this. Seriously." I tap one finger against the side of the bottle for emphasis. "I'm with Coop."

"Did someone say my name?" Cooper Harrison strolls over from beside the grill, clutching a green bottle with a similar label. Sage repurposed generic nametags, so his reads Hello, My Name Is: Peanut Butter Porter in smudged Sharpie. He pulls me in for a back-slapping one-armed hug. "Hey, Knight, good to see you."

This whole experience is so surreal. I grew up with these people calling me kiddo and scolding me for putting my hand too close to the pilot light on the stove or whatever, and now I'm suddenly one of them. Still younger than they are, of course, but as close to as an equal as I'm ever likely to be. They talk as if we have the same responsibilities and concerns, as if we're friends. I mean, it's cool. But it also makes me feel like something has changed forever.

I start to ask Coop about his popular restaurant/bar The Puck Drop, since this is the first I'm hearing of it, but before we can get into the details, Knova sidles up to me.

"Dad is getting on my last nerve," she says in a conversational tone. "Your turn."

I raise one eyebrow. I may or may not have been avoiding Dad, since I still feel a little weird about having signed a multi-year, multi-eight-figure deal based primarily on the strength of his reputation and Dante Giovanetti's warped idea of magic. "Should I ask what happened?"

"Let me guess." Sage's smile widens. "He wants grandkids?"

Knova exhales through her flared nostril. "Got it in one. And since I have no intention of having babies as a gift to our parents, I'm going to let Knight take the heat for a little. If nothing else, it'll distract Dad with the reminder of how he's passed on his Venom legacy." She bumps my hip gently with hers, a small indication that her barb isn't aimed at me. They never are, even if this one stings a little.

I excuse myself and make my way over to where Uncle Marco and Dad are standing at the edge of the back deck. Dad's holding a brightly-colored plastic toy that looks, at least superficially, like a pistol. It dangles from his hand, half-forgotten.

"...you'd think my odds would be better," Dad quips. "But Knova has never brought home anyone serious, and from what I can tell, Knight doesn't date."

Facts.

Since college, I've been more of a man who fucks. Because the woman I want to date doesn't want to date me.

"Same with Sofia," Uncle Marco complains. "I understand not wanting to settle down yet, but to hear her tell it, there are no good men in the world! What about us? Have not we been the best of role models for her?"

My ears perk up at the mention of Sofia and her status, but Marco doesn't elaborate.

"Even Vivian's not hitched yet," Dad muses. "Maybe it's different these days. But if they wait too long—"

"Dad," I finally butt in, "we're in our twenties. Stop rushing it."

"Knight!" Marco spreads his arms in greeting. "Welcome home, figliolo! Are you enjoying your party?" He kisses me hard on both cheeks.

Receiving affection from Uncle Marco feels a bit like how I imagine Luke Skywalker felt inside the trash compactor. I postpone my answer until he releases me and I can get another breath of air.

"Layla outdid herself," I wheeze when he finally releases me. "I'm just shocked that Dad is letting people walk on the grass."

Dad brandishes the plastic pistol. "As if. The first person who steps a toe out of line is getting hit."

"With a…" I examine the toy. "Water pistol?"

"Bean bag launcher," Dad corrects. "Soft enough to be safe, but hard enough to be taken seriously. I shall know my enemy by their limps."

I try to keep a straight face. "Do you know how much damage grandkids would do to your precious grass?"

"I do." Dad's expression darkens. "I raised you two, didn't I?"

"And you both survived!" Marco reminds me as if I'm not standing right next to him, famously alive.

"Only because Mom kept him in check." Speaking of Mom, I look around. I find her standing by the pool, next to Aunt Madison and Layla Sawyer, Brigg's wife and party planner extraordinaire. I'm sure Mom's gushing about how great the party is. Briggs stands nearby, perennially shirtless, and still absurdly cut despite the fact that he's well into his fifties. The guy's still got it. Good for him.

Then I realize who Briggs is talking to, and I almost drop my beer.

Sofia's hair is longer and darker than I remembered, as if she's been spending less time in the sun. She's wearing makeup, too. From this distance, I can't tell if it's one of the custom- tinted real time filters all the girls went crazy for a few years back, the kind you can reapply in minutes once you configure your preference settings. I've been known to use a glow-up filter or two of my own, but they tend to look a little strange up close. Her billowing maxi-dress obscures her figure, but there's still something about her that's matured from girl-next-door to…

Well, I don't know what. But I'd like to find out. And judging by Marco's earlier complaints, she's not seeing anyone.

The breath catches in my throat, and for a second, I forget where I am. Sofia's always been beautiful, but now… damn. There's a softness to her that wasn't there before, a kind of sultry mystery that wasn't in those high school hallways. The way she moves, the way that dress clings and flows—it's like she's daring me to remember how it felt to be close to her, and every nerve in my body responds. Old feelings come rushing back, stronger and hotter than before, and all I can think about is getting closer, tasting the softness of her lips.

Feeling the heat of her skin under my hands.

Since I'm wearing trunks, my thickening dick is becoming an issue. I shake my head and take a few deep inhales.

I remember what she said during our senior excursion when she was complaining about our lack of dating options. Not you, obviously. You're Knight. You're cool.

I wonder if I'm still an exception to the rule. God, I hope so. I've missed her so much.

"Hm," Marco says.

I turn back to him. "What?"

He and Dad exchange a look. They're the only platonic-guy-friends I know who can read each other's minds like an old married couple. I admit, I'm a little jealous. I got along fine with my former teammates, but I doubt I'll stay in touch, much less stay involved with each other's families until we lose our hair. Dad has been covering his small bald spot with a ballcap for years. Whenever they get together, Marco wears a matching hat in solidarity, despite the fact that his hair isn't going anywhere.

Now, that's friendship.

The twin expressions of glee on their faces make me nervous, though. They're scheming something.

Dad gives a slight nod. Marco grins.

"I'm officially out," I tell them. "I'm gonna go find Knova, okay?"

"Good plan," Dad says, but he and Uncle Marco are still grinning like a couple of mad lads. If I didn't know for a fact that our watches don't allow for mindreading, I'd be seriously concerned.

Right on cue, Knova cannonballs into the swimming pool, making some of the younger kids scream. She rises from the depths, cackling like the bog witch I'm convinced she is. The tan, blonde guy next to her splutters. Holy shit, is that Viktor? He's filled out since the last time I saw him.

"Time to prevent a murder!" I call, and hustle away before my dad and uncle make the situation any weirder. Not that I'm worried about Knova. If anything, she could take Viktor in hand-to-hand combat.

I trot down the deck steps and make a beeline for my sister. If I sidle up to Sofia now, our dads will get suspicious. Knova has always been our buffer, the go-between who makes our awkward interactions slightly less awkward.

"Hey, man," I say to Viktor when I reach the edge of the pool. "Did Dante get to you, too?"

"Not yet." Viktor slicks his dark blond hair away from his face with both hands. "Sergio made an offer, though. I'm holding out to see if he'll make a higher offer."

I raise one eyebrow and cross my arms. My shadow falls across the surface of the pool, and I take some small, petty pleasure from the fact that Viktor has to squint when he looks up at me. It's one of the few times in my life that I've felt like I had the upper hand with him. "Really? You need more money?"

"Not really." Viktor grins, revealing a chipped tooth that somehow makes him look even cockier. "But I figure Dante's dead set on this whack-a-doodle plan to collect us like vintage Pokémon, so I might as well milk it for all it's worth."

I shake my head. "That's low."

"Plus, I figure I'm worth more than you."

It's hard to tell if this comment would have hurt my feelings because my revenge comes immediately. And, as usual, it comes in the form of Knova, who's been swimming up behind Viktor while he was distracted. She hits him with a tidal wave of pool water, and Viktor howls.

"What the fuck, Knova?" he demands, flopping around. So much for trying to make his hair look cool; now he looks more like a drowned rat.

"Language," she says, in an annoyingly prissy voice. "There are children present."

"We're not children!" Dot Shaw tells her.

Knova turns to Dot and Arturo, who are bobbing around in the shallow end. "You're minors. Ergo, you're kids."

Dot glares at him. "I am in college. Not a minor."

Viktor slicks his hair back again, just in time for me to double-check that my pockets are empty. I cannonball into the pool, still wearing my shorts and t-shirt, hitting Viktor with yet another deluge.

"You're all assholes!" he wails, which only makes us laugh. I don't know how much Viktor has changed over the years, but back in school, he always acted like he was the shit. Other kids bought into it sometimes. Knova, Sofia, and I knew better.

As if she can read my mind, Knova spins in the water. "Hey, Sofia! Get that fine ass of yours over here?"

"What, so I can't swear but you can say ass ?" Viktor lowers himself deeper into the water and sulks. "Not fair."

"Life isn't fair," Knova informs him. "Get over it."

I ignore their banter because Sofia is on her way to the edge of the pool, looking fine as hell. Her dress hides a lot, but the low neckline reveals a generous amount of cleavage. I want to run my tongue between her breasts. I wonder about the color of her nipples. Then I wonder what they would taste like.

Down, boy. I haven't even talked to her yet. Entertaining fantasies about licking her anywhere feels more than a little disrespectful. I bet she has guys panting after her all the time. I don't want to be one of the infamous mouthbreathers she used to complain about on the regular. Yeah, I totally remember that. Like I remember every word she's ever said in my presence.

"I'm good up here," she says, tucking a loose curl of hair behind one perfect ear.

"Oh, come on." Knova bobs around in the water. "Show us what you've got under that sundress, babe." She wolf-whistles. It's decidedly unfair that a straight woman can catcall another straight woman without it being weird. My twin sister gets away with… well, everything.

Then again, Knova probably isn't staving off mental images of tugging on Sofia's neckline with her teeth.

Fuck. I'm not doing too well with this not-fantasizing thing, am I?

"I'm good." Sofia's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "I spent a long time on my makeup this morning…" So it's not a holofilter. I imagine her brushing careful swathes of color across her cheeks with a soft brush until they shimmer gold in the sunlight…

And now I'm jealous of a makeup brush. What in the literal hell?

"Boo!" Knova gives this excuse a thumbs-down. "I hate it when hot chicks have low self-esteem."

Sofia's cheeks flush a pretty pink beneath the shimmer. "I don't have low self-esteem."

"Then get in the pool, girl. It's time for a chicken fight." Knova bares her teeth in a feral grin. "Let's see if you and Knight can take us on."

Sofia's eyes turn toward me. She bites her bottom lip as I give a small wave. "Hey, Sofia," I say belatedly.

"Hey." She fiddles with her drink.

Knova's smile softens. "You can keep the dress on if you're not wearing a suit underneath, you know."

"No, I'm wearing one." Sofia sighs. She knows when she's lost. "Give me a second."

While she finishes her drink, Knova swims over to me. "You're welcome," she whispers, low enough that Viktor won't be able to hear and give me shit for my enduring, impossible crush. "I'm dealing with Viktor for you, so remember: you owe me big-time."

"I appreciate it, truly. But I thought you hated Viktor." I look over Knova's shoulder to where Viktor is still sullenly bobbing in the pool.

"Oh, I do. With any luck, he'll drown. Ideally in a way that will seem like an accident."

I look back up at Sofia just as she pulls her dress over her head to reveal a sunshine-yellow bathing suit that leaves a hell of a lot less to the imagination. The top is a fairly modest cut and covers most of her midriff, but the bottom puts her thick thighs on full display.

Soon, those bare thighs will be wrapped around my torso. Her breasts will be pressed against my back.

Well, I guess I live in this pool now. There's no way in hell I'm flaunting a boner in front of my parents and their friends, just as there's no way I'll be that close to Sofia without getting all tingly and sweaty.

It's a real catch-22.

And I'm holding the short end of the stick.