Page 16 of A Little Crush
“Look at you, stealing the show,” he quips, pulling her intoanother hug until her feet are off the ground and her soft laugh filters through the air.
My brows wrinkle as I step away, giving them space to…do whatever the hell they’re doing. But seriously? Who does this guy think he is? And why is everyone okay with him putting his hands on her?
“Hey, man.” Maverick’s voice distracts me from the view of his little sister spinning around in a rockstar’s arms. “You good?”
“Yeah.” I tear my attention from Rory and tuck my hands into the front pockets of my slacks. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“You sure?” he prods. “You look?—”
Distracted, I interrupt, “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, for sure.”
Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it.
“What’s up with Rory and Dodger?”
Looking over my shoulder, Mav takes in his little sister standing next to a fucking rockstar who’s probably twice her age with the sun framing their silhouettes like they’re the stars in some sappy rom-com. Oblivious, Mav shrugs. “No idea. Why?”
“Are they seeing each other?”
“No idea,” he repeats. “Rory either doesn’t have relationships or keeps them close to the chest, I’m not sure which.”
Keeps them close to the chest? That’s it? That’s all he has to say? No offense, but Maverick’s a terrible big brother if he’s really this clueless when it comes to Rory’s dating life. Actually, he’s an excellent big brother, and I get that he’s getting married and shit, but seriously? The rockstar’s practically twice her age. Okay, that might be a bit of a stretch. Or is it? Hell, if I know, but I sure as shit am about to find out.
“So you’re okay with it?” I challenge, trying not to sound like an interrogator, though I doubt I’m successful.
Giving me a weird look, Mav retorts, “Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?”
“She’s your little sister.”
“So?” Mav laughs. “Rory’s a big girl.”
“Yeah, but Dodger’s, what? Fifteen years older than she is?”
Hesitating, Maverick glances at Rory next to Dodger again and scratches his jaw. “Something like that.”
“And you’re good with it?” I push.
This doesn’t bother him? Should it? Or is my conversation with Rory muddying the waters and fucking with my mind, leaving me less than unbiased after everything we’ve been through? The last time we spoke, she apologized for falling for a guy older than her. Hell, she even accused me of looking at her like she’s nothing but a kid I used to babysit. But hooking up with a rockstar is appropriate? A rockstar who’s older than I am? What the fuck? I had my assumptions after the pool party, but a hug like that? And the way she can’t stop smiling at him? It’s bullshit.
“Yeah,” Mav grunts, lifting a shoulder in a half-assed shrug as he turns back to me. “I guess I am good with it.”
“Why?”
Another laugh rumbles out of him. “Why not? She’s over twenty-one and Dodger’s a good guy.”
I glance at Rory chatting with Dodger and the way her eyes crinkle in the corners. She looks…happy, and damn if it isn’t fucking with my head. The girl can’t even look at me, but she can smile at him like that? Something sharp digs against my ribcage, but I fight the urge to rub it away and clench my hands instead.
“If I’ve learned anything from this life, it’s that you fall for who you fall for, you know?” Mav continues. “If we had any say in it, do you really think I would’ve fucked over Archer the way I did?”
I pull back, distracted by his candor. Because yeah. Falling for your twin’s girlfriend is kind of a shit thing to do, isn’t it? Add in Archer’s death, and I’m pretty sure Mav could be painted as the villain in any retelling of his love story with Ophelia. He’s spent years in therapy to let go of the staggering guilt of how things played out between him, Lia, and Archer. Clearly, it’s worked, and I envy him for it.
My focus shifts to Rory again, taking in her silky peach dress, light makeup, and soft blonde hair. She curled it today. It looks nice. She’s beautiful, objectively speaking, of course. I swallow back the knot in my throat. The same easy smile plays at the edge of her mouth as she peeks up at Dodger, attentively hanging onto his every word. And it’s strange. Because even though it’s been years, I’m pretty sure she used to look at me that way. With awe.
I don’t like it.
And he sure as shit doesn’t deserve it. Not that I ever did, either, but this isn’t about me. What if he hurts her? He’s a rockstar, for fuck’s sake. A rockstar who couldn’t even scrounge up a suit for the dress rehearsal. Instead, he’s in a pair of ripped jeans and a T-shirt. How is no one else worried about this connection? Or maybe I’m projecting after my own relationship fell apart. Maybe not everyone’s a cheater. Or maybe I’m right, and Rory will be hurt. None of the possibilities make me feel any better. None of them are in my control, either. That’s why I’m frustrated. Because I don’t want her to get hurt, is all. It’s completely logical.
