Page 20 of Strong Side

He’s allowed to bear full weight on his leg, which is wrapped up in a top-of-the-line brace, and only uses a single crutch when necessary. But he spent all afternoon helping me set up for this party at his house—which I begged him to let me have here since my condo is so far from campus—and has been buzzing around like the social butterfly he is since it started. Like the best friend I am, I could tell his body was starting to get tired, so I forcedhim to rest.

Which conveniently happened to be the perfect vantage point for me to watch Rocky shake his ass on the dance floor.

“Emerson!” he yells to his little brother on the other side of the room. Emerson is a sophomore at Palm University and the right defenseman on the third line for the hockey team. Unfortunately for him, he also lives with his big brother, Jackson, in the house their parents bought for them and has been stuck doing his bidding for the last six weeks. In the most dramatic fashion possible, Emerson rolls his eyes and pulls his stare away from the brunette he is talking to. Actually, scratch that. He pulls his eyes away from thebreastsof the brunette he was talking to and sulks over to where we’re sitting.

“Yes, Jackson?” he drawls. “What can I do for you now?”

“I like the enthusiasm, Em. Go check the ice around the keg.”

“Fine.” Emerson spins on his heel without so much as an argument.

The two of us laugh and tip back our beers. I had every intention of getting drunk tonight, it isn’t often I have a free and clear weekend, but after seeing how heavily Rocky is leaning into one, I decided against it.

“Since when does he listen to you so well?”I ask my best friend.

Jax’s grin is practically sinister. “Since three weeks ago when I called Mom to tattle that he wasn’t helping me, and she then proceeded to chew him a new asshole.”

I bark out a laugh. “Jesus fucking Christ. I don’t know who’s more childish. You or the twins.”

Jackson is the oldest of four. He also has a set of sixteen-year-old twin brothers, Bryson and Grayson. The four of their names sound like they’re members of a country western band. And considering they’re all from Billings, Montana, they very well could be.

Jax takes another swig of beer and puffs out his chest in pride. “Oh me, definitely.”

Emerson comes stomping back over. “Ice is good. Anything else?”

My eyes stray to Rocky just in time to watch him put his hands on his knees and twerk. Swear on my life… he’s literally twerking.

“Why can’t Clay do it?” I don’t know what Jax asked for, and I don’t care; my eyes don’t leave Rocky’s ass as he continues to shake it for the entire party to see. But I do hear Jax answer, voice full of amusement, “Because he’s…busy.”

I know my best friend well enough to know I’ve totally been busted, but I also know he won’t call me out on it. Jax is a true ride or die.

1The music changes to Teddy Swim’s “My Bad,” and the entire house starts cheering. Twenty seconds into the song, the entire party is singing along word for word, including Rocky.

I watch in awe as he tips his head back, finger pointed in the air, eyes closed, as if there are no burdens in the world holding him back. A radiant glow covers his rich walnut skin. His cheeks are flushed, and his movements are fluid. Unlike the carefully crafted mask he usually wears.

Drunk or not, he looks… beautiful.

Standing up, I slide the lightweight flannel I’m wearing down my arms and drape it over the couch next to Jax, leaving me in the most epic shirt known to man and a pair of light-wash jeans. “Are you going somewhere?” he asks as he looks from me to Rocky and then back to me.

“Yup, gonna go dance.”

“Figured as much.”

I point down at him and glare, although we both know there’s no real heat behind it. “Not a word, Jackson.”

He zips his mouth closed, locks the key, and throws it behind his shoulder.

Fucking smartass.

The song is on its second chorus by the time I reach Rocky, and like he can immediately feel my presence, he opens his eyes and looks at me. The two of us sway to the beat of the music, shouting the lyrics at the top of our lungs, all the while not daring to look away from one another.

It’s like we’re in our own little bubble, and I never want to pop it.

Someone knocks into Rocky as they walk past him, causing him to stumble forward and into me. My hands grip his waist, stopping us both from falling on our asses. My hands feel like they’re on fire as they rest against his skin underneath the hem of his cropped T-shirt.

“You good?” I ask him.

Just like they did a couple of hours ago, his eyes clear, and it’s as if I can see his every thought running through his eyes in rapid succession. It takes him a minute to respond, but when he does, the roughness in his voice almost sends me to my knees. “So good.”

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