Page 4 of Only for Love

Ryan groans, and I roll my eyes.

Gray sidesteps the girl on his hip. “Why’d you run off a sec ago?”

“I was in sober-girl hell.”No way will I admit to him why.Everywhere I went tonight, there was a chick trying for his attention.

“So why’d you run for the door just now?” His voice is teasing. He nudges my shoulder with his arm.

I swear, between those arms and that chest, I don’t know what to do with myself. I shrug instead, imagining him holding his arm around me, pressing our bodies together. “I was bored. Didn’t want to drink, and I have dance in the morning.”

My list makes sense, but none of it’s true. I can’t drink around Grayson for fear that I’ll do something stupid. And I like being their sober option because I’m pretty much theironlyoption, and that guarantees me more time with him. I’m a Grayson Ford addict. No one will blame me though, and I’m pretty sure there’s anI Dream of Graysupport group at school.

My eyes slide over him. He’s perfect. Sweet. Funny. Smart. Tough. A combination of male awesomeness, all in the right blend.

The girl who had been latched to Ryan’s chest pulls back from him. “Seriously, Emma, you should try out for the team.”

Now the girl under Gray’s arm scowls. “Tryouts have been over for forever.”

Add her snippy shut down of something I don’t even want to do to the list of reasons I hate her.

Ryan’s girl smiles at me, and I think that she’s actually trying to suck up to me to win him over. “For Emma’s talent, I think we’d make an exception.” Spoken like a true captain of the cheerleading squad.

Whatever. Art bleeds in my veins. I know I could do well on the cheerleading team, but that’s not why I dance. The rhythm, the feelings, with the right music and a focus, I don’t dance. I emote. All that poetry in motion stuff comes naturally to me.

“She’s not a dancer,” Grayson adds. “She’s a photographer.”

Dancing’s fun, but photography is who I am. He knows it. Heat hidden by the evening’s dim light hits my cheeks. “That I am. But really, I’m your ride, so in the car. Let’s go.”

Grayson’s girl wraps her arms on him, readying to work some take-me-home magic. But he sidesteps her move, and relief floods me.

“Hey.” Gray points down the street. “Becca’s in your neighborhood. She’ll drop you.”

When her mouth hinges open to protest, he leans in to add a more private part to their conversation. Whatever he said works, and after a bit of giggle-fussying, she waves goodbye and almost skips down the sidewalk.

Seriously. I. Hate. Her. Or maybe it’s me that I’m hating. Why can’t I just tell him? Sighing, I know the answer I’ve replayed a million times.

He’s my friend.

Mybestfriend.

It will ruin everything. He’s Grayson Ford, the dream boyfriend, the ideal catch. And I’m me: cute but not gorgeous, friendly but not super popular. If Ryan wasn’t my brother, I wonder if as many people would even notice I exist. A long time ago, I learned that somefriendsonly wanted to hang with me for access to Ryan and Gray. Nice.

Back to chauffeur duty. Ryan’s attached at the face to his cheerleader and heading toward the back seat.

Grayson throws his arm around my shoulder and leans in. His lips graze my temple, evidence that he’s had his share of keg beer and laughs. “Take me home, Emma.”

Ha. If he hadanyclue.

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