Page 20 of Drop Three

“One sec,” I call out.

I need to talk with the guys about installing security cameras here. It wouldn’t be a bad investment, especially with the increasing number of late-night visits.

Not that I have much to complain about with the last one.

My little terremoto.

Swinging open the front door, I come face-to-face with Gus.

My brows shoot up in question. “Dude, you live here.”

If I ever questioned whether Gus lacked brain cells, now would be the time. Is he drunk? Did he get hit on the head? Did he lose his key? Because why?

He laughs. “Great observation. I know I live here, but they don’t.”

Gus turns to face the unexpected.

In the darkness of the night, every friend in my village comes into view, and it looks like they’re all here for me.

My people.

A flood of unfamiliar emotions comes over me, and I don’t know what to do with them all. What I do know, though, is that these people are my ride-or-dies.

My village may be small, but it’s sure as fuck mighty.

Callaway, Kodi, Mack, Kingston, Tenley, Navy, and Gus all storm through the house with arms full of miscellaneous bags, making themselves perfectly at home and greeting me on the way in.

Nobody asks: What are you doing? Want to hang out? Are you good? There are no questions—supporting me unconditionally as my friends.

This is what I need. This is the therapy that Dr. Banks will never be able to provide.

Loyal friendships are the ones that bring the most profound peace.

I’m standing by the door, unable to move, likely looking like an idiot because I’m at a loss for words.

Why aren’t they out clubbing? It’s Friday night in Atlanta; going out is almost always a nonnegotiable.

The city never sleeps.

My eyes follow their relaxed movements throughout the house: King is in the kitchen getting popcorn and snacks ready, Tenley and Mack are turning the couch into a bed, Callaway is setting up a movie on the flatscreen, Kodi is shuffling from the hall closet with arms full of blankets, while Gus grabs a bucket of beers to sit on the ottoman for us, and Navy is…

Wait, where is Navy?

“Hey, catcher.”Mhm. There she is.

I spin around at the sound of her soft voice, and her bright green eyes catapult my heart rate. She’s stunning, standing before me in teal blue sweatpants and a matching hoodie with cheeseburger socks. Her hair is in a messy bun, and she looks so relaxed, like she’s ready to get cozy.

The best part is that she’s back in my space, and all is right in my pathetic world of hopeless longing.

If only she would take off her makeup and let me appreciate her natural beauty; that will always be my favorite version of her.

This version, however, is pretty damn close.

She’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

I can’t let her—or anyone—know that, but it doesn’t make it any less accurate.

I approach Navy, challenging her with my voice. “Finally decided to take me up on that room?”

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