11. Emerson

"Hey, Bambi." Chris stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him with a gentle kick. "Where is Gi?"

I shrugged. I hadn't seen her. If I had to guess, she was avoiding me. My decision to FaceTime her two nights ago was a spur-of-the-moment thing. We were chatting, and I just wanted to hear her voice. So I'd called. It took less than a minute to gather that she didn't view it as a welcome interruption. That hurt, but I'd done my best to push the pain away. I had never wanted to just talk to a woman before, so I'd never done anything like that. And immediately, I regretted it. Her discomfort was palpable, and the conversation was stilted.

Plus, I'd hardly been able to focus because her tits were trying to burst out of that tiny shirt she was wearing. It was all I could do to not stare at them. As soon as I'd hung up, I'd gotten into the shower to jack off, pretending it was her huge tits and not my hand rubbing my dick.

I was at a loss for how to handle my thoughts and reactions to her. All kinds of emotions rushed through me every time I even thought about the woman.

We'd gotten in late last night from the road stretch, and when I got home, her door had been closed. Since my bathroom was still out of commission, I'd skipped the shower I usually took to unwind and had just gone to bed. The last thing I wanted to do was bug her again. So far today, I'd been home from the day game for thirty minutes, and the whole time, her door had been shut tight. Again. So the chances were good that she was avoiding me. But most days, she did spend a lot of time in her room, so maybe I was overthinking it.

I scratched my head.

"Is she not home?" he asked again, yanking his phone out of his pocket.

He was tapping at the screen when a door opened down the hall. "I'm here. You don't need to be an asshole." Gianna stomped barefoot into the room. She was dressed in black leggings and a matching crop top, and her nails were painted a bright red.

Without my permission, my imagination ran wild, picturing her scratching those nails down my chest, then gently wrapping one soft hand around my dick.

I glanced away before I swallowed my tongue or my eyes bugged out of my head. Every article of clothing the woman owned was created to be a torture device especially for me. So why the fuck did I spend any time she wasn't around desperate to see her? I'd be walking around sniffing oranges if I wasn't careful.

Teeth gritted, I kept my attention fixed on the table in front of me and cracked my knuckles.

"I thought you said she wasn't home." Chris scowled at me.

"Clearly I am," she snapped.

I'd yet to get a single word in, but with the two of them, that wasn't unusual.

"You really need to find someone besides me to cut your damn hair."

"You know I don't like people to touch me. I don't give you shit about constantly getting new sheets everywhere you go. Don't give me shit either," Chris muttered, his mouth falling into a tight line.

This was normal for them. The bickering. So it made no sense that I had to fight to stay in my seat and appear unconcerned rather than tell Chris to fuck off. What made my reaction even more strange was that I never argued with him. Hell, I owed him so much.

I rubbed a hand down my face and pulled out my phone to distract myself. Once I'd unlocked the screen, I read through my sister's text messages. Isabella was graduating from high school soon and wanted to make sure I'd be there. Like I'd miss it.

"You've been doing it for ten years. I don't see why it's an issue now."

"Chris." Her voice got louder, grabbing my attention.

Quietly, I watched the interaction. If he overstepped, then, brother or not, he'd have to leave. I didn't even care that this was his apartment. I would toss him out.

But they both just stood, arms crossed, glaring at each other. Like a contest. Finally, Chris broke.

"You can't mean that I should find someone new today," Chris scoffed. "We have your thing tomorrow, and I need it cut."

Gi huffed, and her shoulders dropped. "I don't get why everyone loves you. You are the worst. But fine. I'll cut your hair." She spun on her heel and stomped out of the room. "But I will not be the one sweeping it all up," she shouted as she stomped down the hall.

"I don't get why she's so mad." Chris pulled the stool Gi used for painting off the tarp and brought it to the center of the room.

"When did you ask her about the haircut?" I knew from experience with my own sisters that sometimes it was just timing.

He shrugged. "I told her I was coming like a half hour ago."

"Oh." I tried not to, but I couldn't help but laugh. He was such an idiot. "That's probably why she's pissed."

"What?" He lifted a hand and cocked his head.

"Typically, when you want a favor from someone, you ask them." I shook my head but still chuckled. "You can't just tell them. Don't be a dick."

Eyes narrowed, he scanned the room. "Huh." With that, he pulled out his phone and busied himself with it.

With a shrug at his profile, I turned back to mine, but a second later, my scrolling was interrupted by loud, thumping steps.

"Why are you such an asshole?" Gi barked as she appeared again. "You seriously sent me a text now, asking whether this was okay?"

I was entranced by her, as usual, as she juggled the brush, her phone, a small black case, a bag, and some black piece of fabric that was slipping from her arm.

Shaking myself from my stupor, I hopped up and darted toward her, tripping on the leg of the coffee table and stumbling before I righted myself and closed the distance.

Her brows pulled together as I got closer. "What?" she snapped.

I held out my hand, and though she glowered at me, she didn't put up a fight as I grabbed the black fabric before it could fall to the floor.

"Let me help, Gi," I said quietly.

Almost imperceptivity, she nodded, pressing her lips together and ducking her head.

As I took the case from her, my fingers brushed against the back of hers. Instantly, goose bumps burst across her soft skin. With my heart in my throat, I took in the pebbled skin of her arm, slowly working my way up to her shoulder, then zeroing in on her breasts. Through her bra, I couldn't tell, but I was dying to know if her nipples had hardened. And I was dying to wrap my lips around one and suck. Desperate to make her moan my name.

Like she could read my mind, her breath hitched. The sound forced me to lift my gaze up to the hollow of her throat where her pulse pounded. I took in her plump lips and her pink cheeks, then my gaze skated higher. Until finally, our eyes met. Her pupils were blown wide, eclipsing her dark irises. Her lids were heavy, her long lashes fluttering. I wanted to lean close. Press my lips to hers. Feel every soft curve of her body.

I brushed my thumb over the back of her hand again, and she shifted closer.

"What are you doing?" The sound clawed at my ears, and on instinct, I jerked back, heart pounding and stomach sinking.

Chris was in the damn room.

My head snapped around to her brother. His narrowed eyes flicked between me and his sister. Fuck. Could he tell what I had just been thinking? I swallowed. No way. Not if I acted normal.

"Nothing." I shrugged. "I was being a gentleman. Helping her so she didn't drop shit."

The crease between her brows was back. "I wasn't going to drop anything," she said, tearing the case from my hand and stomping toward her brother.

I fought the smile forming on my lips as she set down the case and the bag, then discreetly checked the floor around her, clearly realizing she was missing something.

"You're right. You definitely weren't going to drop it," I assured her as I balled up the black piece of fabric and tossed it to Chris.

"You could just accept help," he muttered to his sister.

"Did you actually want me to cut your hair?" Gi crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

Chris held his free hand up. "Truce?"

"Just sit down and stop being annoying." She pointed at the stool, and he complied, passing the black wrap to her as he did.

While she swung the fabric around and hooked it around his neck, I moved back to the sofa and pulled up Instagram to kill time.

Hannah had uploaded a reel featuring the mascots, along with Quinn, Price, and me.

The Revs mascots were a trio of revolutionary soldiers dressed in regimental uniforms under baseball jerseys.

Quinn and Price and I were each teamed up with one mascot to run a relay race. I'd joined the drumming soldier with the throwback jersey, and he and I had crushed it.

Quinn was young, and Price might be the big bat of the team, but I had the speed. And although my fun-loving drummer dropped his sticks early on and had to stop to pick them up, putting us in last, I'd made up the time, and we'd pulled off a win. The drama the mascots launched into had me chuckling. The one on the horse stomped around in circles, and the third flailed on the ground, throwing a tantrum.

"You excited about Friday?" Chris asked over the snipping of the scissors.

Gianna was silent, and although I was trying not to intrude on their conversation, my ears perked up at her lack of response, because she had sounded excited a few days ago.

"Why are you pouting?"

"I'm not."

I didn't look her way, but I didn't need to in order to gauge her mood. I could hear the frustration in her tone. Once again, I wanted to tell Chris to back off. But he wouldn't. He was the type that dug in full force. The dude had waited a year for his girl. Trust me, he didn't let anything go.

"What's the deal?" he demanded.

She sighed, and in a quiet voice I'd never heard from her, she said, "Jake uninvited me."

I whipped around so hard I nearly fell off the sofa. At the same time, Chris pushed to his feet, glaring at her. "The douches did what?"

"It's Doucette. Not douche," she growled.

I wasn't sure why she always pronounced the word that way. But every time Chris called the company a bunch of douches, she always corrected him.

"I'm fine not going," she said, though she kept her focus on the scissors in her hand and shifted on her feet, looking anything but fine.

"What do you mean?" Chris crossed his arms under the black cape, puffing up in his typical overprotective way. "This event is to show off the new signs—that you made—and you're telling me you're not going?"

She swallowed, and for a second, I thought she might cry. The thought of it was like a knife to the chest. That wasn't Gianna. She used anger to hide her emotions and always kept her head held high. But I knew how it felt to work as hard as everyone else yet not get the same credit. It was a punch to the stomach, and although I was used to it for me, I wanted better for her.

But like a switch flipped, she pulled her shoulders back, and that chin, which loved to lift in indignation, rose a fraction. Her eyes hardened, and any hint of vulnerability was gone before most people would have even noticed. "It's to raise money for the zoo. This has nothing to do with me. The event was planned long before I agreed to paint a few signs."

"No." Chris shook his head. "You didn't just paint a few signs. You practically rebranded the place. This is bullshit. Bambi," he called over to me. "You're taking Dumpty's spot at the gala Friday, right?"

I nodded.

"Got a date?"

Gianna zeroed in on me. No, I didn't have a date. I'd thought about asking her dad if he wanted to go. He was the type of parent who would like to see his daughter's hard work celebrated. But I hadn't gotten a chance yet. Hannah had only sprung the invitation on me yesterday at the relay race with the mascots. I was rarely invited to the big things, but since Mason was still recovering from his concussion, they needed another body.

"Dude, the question isn't a hard one." Chris shook his head.

"No, Dragon." I cleared my throat to answer him, but I kept my eyes on his sister. "No date."

Gianna's shoulders relaxed just a bit, and though she was still scowling, the look softened a fraction.

"Great." He lifted a hand from under his black cape and waved it between the two of us. "You two can go together."

"No." Gianna spit out the word fast.

My stomach sank. She was attracted to me. I had no doubt. But apparently I wasn't the type of guy she'd want on her arm at such an important event.

"Why the fuck not?" Chris glared at her.

I lowered my head and rocked back on my heels. I didn't need an explanation. I understood, and I couldn't be upset with her for not wanting to bring the class clown to the formal event.

"It's your thing," Chris argued. "You will be there."

"Well," Gianna said, worrying her lip, "it's dumb. But my temper got the better of me…"

What did her temper have to do with anything? She was cute when she was fired up. All glary and ragey vibes.

Though in this moment she was the opposite of fired up. My heart hurt as I watched her twirl a long strand of hair around her finger nervously.

"Just spit it out." Chris frowned.

Her eyes flicked to me for one second before she looked down at her feet. "Jake was being an ass, so I might have told him I was dating someone."

My heart clenched. She was dating someone. Already? When the hell had that happened? Fuck. My stomach sank, and a wave of anguish ran through me. I couldn't have her. I knew that. But it hurt anyway.

"So?" If they didn't share several features already, the way he sneered the word just like she would have would be enough to make it obvious they were siblings.

A kernel of irritation hit my stomach at the idea that Chris didn't care that she was dating again. Since the second she'd arrived, he'd been all about the team staying away, yet it was okay for some stranger to take her out?

She flung her arms out. "So? I can't show up alone." Her arms dropped, along with her chin. "Jake already thought I was lying."

"You were lying," he said with all the confidence of a guy who was aware of the facts.

She was lying. I shouldn't smile, but I couldn't help it. She wasn't dating someone. Thank fuck. And also, I was an idiot. Just because she wasn't dating someone didn't mean I could have her.

Arms locked across her chest again, she popped one hip. "I don't want him to know that. So if I go, it'll have to be with my ‘boyfriend.'" She used air quotes around that last word.

"I can do it." I couldn't have stopped the words if I tried.

Gianna and Chris turned to me in unison, wearing matching masks of confusion.

"I'll pretend to be the guy you're dating." Because that meant that, for one night, I could touch her. I could rest my hand on the swell of her hip. I could hold her hand. Whisper in her ear. Smell her perfume. Wrap her in my arms while we danced.

For one night, I could pretend I could have her.

Gianna blinked.

"I can fake it," I assured my best friend.

"Perfect." Chris lifted his fist up to me. "I owe you, bro."

I shook my head, even as I tapped knuckles with him. He didn't owe me shit. In fact, this was the opposite of that. I owed him for suggesting Gianna go with me. I'd do just about anything to be close to her, even if it was all pretense. And instead of being an obstacle in my path, he'd just given the opportunity to do it.

Fuck. I was a shitty friend.

"Are you sure?" Gianna whispered.

Chris shook his head and blew out an exasperated breath. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

She whacked him on the head. "Shut up." When she looked my way again, still waiting for my response, her deep brown eyes were filled with so much uncertainly. It was an emotion she worked so hard to hide. And yet, in small moments like this one, it shone so brightly.

"Gianna, I'd be honored to pretend to be the lucky guy who gets to date you."

The worry faded from her expression, and the corner of her mouth almost lifted in a smile.

My stomach flipped at the sight. Because it almost seemed like she wanted to go with me.

"Great." Chris clapped his hands and plopped back onto the stool. "You can do his hair too."

"What?" Gianna's gaze shot to me.

"He needs a trim before tomorrow," Chris said. "And he won't have time to get in anywhere else. So you might as well." He waved a hand at the floor. "I'll even sweep that hair too."

She turned hesitantly to look at me, her pleading gaze silently begging for me to give her an out. But if I agreed with Chris, then I'd get her hands on me.

"Do you mind?" I asked.

Slowly, she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and shook her head. "Let me finish him."

"Thanks." I smiled, hoping she could see the earnest appreciation I felt.

With a brief nod, she turned back to her brother.

It took her another few minutes to finish up his cut, and then he and I traded places. I hadn't put on a shirt after my shower, and a thrill shot down my spine when she fastened the cape around my neck and her fingertips brushed against the skin there. Her hands froze for one breath before her thumb rubbed just below my hairline. My heart pounded.

"Just clean it up?" she whispered the question.

Swallowing thickly, I nodded.

As she ran her fingers through my hair, I had to fight a shiver. It was far too easy to imagine another moment, where her hands were in my hair. Where it wasn't clinical judgment but a meaningful moment, where she'd pull my mouth to hers. I glanced up and locked in on the way her teeth pressed lightly against her full lips, imagining that lip between my own. Where instead of fighting this need, I simply gave in and let myself ride the high of it. My skin tingled.

I heard the snipping, but I was in a world where nothing existed but her touch. The drag of her nails against my scalp, the brush of her fingers along my skin. When she stepped in front of me, I got an eyeful of her tight cropped shirt. My hands itched to touch her. To feel more of the soft skin peeking out between her black shirt and leggings. My mouth was almost lined up with the pale flesh. The urge to press my lips against it was almost impossible to resist.

Slowly, I lifted my hand from under the cape. My fingers barely brushed the smooth skin. The harsh suck of her breath echoed through me. Goose bumps broke out on that inch of skin, leaving me desperate to touch her again.

"Anyone want a drink?" Chris yelled from the kitchen, jarring me back to the moment. To the reason I wasn't touching her.

An electric energy pulsed through the space. My hand still hovered in the air between us. My heart hammered in my ears. Her eyes met mine, and she swallowed.

"Anyone?" he called when we didn't answer, like he was oblivious to the tension in the air. Could he be? Because to me, it felt like thick smoke hovering over all of us. I dropped my hand, and Gi glanced away.

"No thanks," I croaked, then cleared my throat.

"I'm fine." Gi's attention refocused on my hair. Shoulders back, she lifted her arms. Her hand brushed my ear, sending a shiver down my spine and launching my heart into overdrive. She froze in front of me, her breath catching once more.

Haircuts were supposed to be a mundane chore. This felt anything but. Instead, the interaction was charged, and a blazing fire burned inside me.

When her finger brushed the back of my neck, my cock pulsed. I shifted on the stool, thanking God I was covered by the damn cape, because my dick was tenting my shorts. I couldn't stop the images of her hands running down my body from playing in my mind. Visions of her looking up at me as she dropped to her knees between my thighs. The way her tongue would run slowly along her lips before she leaned forward and took me into her mouth.

I fisted my hands in my lap. I couldn't meet her eyes. If I did, I knew what she'd see. I was half-terrified and half-thrilled by the idea that my desire would be reflected in her gaze.

She ran her hand along my jaw to my chin and lifted, turning my head one way, then the other, her fingertips soft like silk against my rough skin. Tilting at the waist, she lowered herself and studied my hair, looking from one side of my face to the other like she was checking the evenness of the cut. Fuck. The scoop of neckline hung loosely, giving me a fantastic view of cleavage. My mouth went dry. I longed to run my tongue across the perfect swells. To feel the weight of her tits in my palms. To tease her nipples with my tongue until she writhed against me.

Blinking myself out of the fantasy, I forced my eyes up, only to find her watching me with a heated intensity that seared straight into me.

"Do we really not have any Easy Out?" Chris called.

With a quiet gasp, Gianna jumped back.

Her brother stomped around the island back to us.

I cleared my throat, silently telling my dick to shut it down. "I'll put it on the grocery list."

"Great." Chris dropped onto the couch and reached for the remote. "Avery's out with the girls tonight, so how about a movie night?"

Normally, I'd be all-in, but tonight, I didn't want to hang out with my best friend. At the moment, all I wanted to do was pull his sister onto my lap, strip her down, and let her ride my dick until we both came.

I was such a shitty friend.

That should be my new mantra. I should tattoo it on my eyeballs so that every time I looked at her, I'd be reminded to stop. But as I studied her—the concentrated expression as she focused on my hair—as I was hit with yet another whiff of her orange blossom scent, all I cared about was seeing her smile.

"How about we watch that one about the next civil war?" I suggested.

She smirked, and I felt like I'd gotten a win.

"Or the new thriller that Netflix just released." Gianna turned away to pull out the clippers.

"Sure." Chris flicked through the list of movies until he found the one she wanted.

The scrape of the clippers sent another wave of shivers through me, but it was nothing compared to the pressure pounding in my dick. I needed to cool off.

When the buzzing finally stopped, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're done. Might want to hop in the shower to rinse off the stray hairs."

Yeah, shower. Cold shower. And then movie night with Damiano siblings.