Page 28 of One More Shot
A shame.
If I weren’t so incredibly turned off by his comments, I might admit that the brief, uncharacteristically startled look on his face was kind of cute. Very rabbit in the headlights.
‘Can I ask why?’ Dane says, finally breaking the stilted silence that’s blanketed itself over us.
The answer comes to me easily. ‘I don’t sleep with the same person twice.’
Dane raises an incredulous brow. ‘Never?’
‘Not anymore,’ I clarify. It’s easier this way, this boundary I’ve been forced to set to guard my heart and avoid making the same mistakes time and time again.
Dane nods, his gaze steady on mine. He considers me carefully for a few seconds before he shrugs. ‘Fair enough.’
I expect him to push. The last guy I had this conversation with spent the following twenty minutes practically begging me to rethink my decision, convinced that his apparentlymagic dickwould be the one to set things right. Unfortunately, that’s a conversation I’m very familiar with. I still haven’t decided if it’s a case of a bruised ego or just a general delusion suffered by an embarrassingly large portion of the male population, but it always reinforces that I’ve made the right choice.
But Dane doesn’t push.
In fact, I’m pretty sure I see a hint of understanding in his eyes. I’m not sure which I’d hate more right now. Dane desperately trying to wear me down, or the sympathetic look in his eyes. I glance away and fumble with my napkin, focusing on tearing it to tiny shreds.
‘So, about the wedding?’
The speed at which he’s pivoted back to the reason he’s even here in the first place is so impressive, it startles a laugh out of me. There’s no trace of irritation in his expression – nothing that would suggest he’s reeling from having just been rejected.
Sex is off the table and now he’s back to business.
I let myself relax a little in my seat. ‘Right. Yeah. The wedding.’
Dane swallows and taps a finger against the table in front of him.He’s nervous. The realisation hits me with a jolt. Ihadn’t actually considered that someone like Dane, someone who oozes confidence with seemingly little thought, actually had the ability to feel nerves.
But here we are.
‘Cash is my best friend,’ Dane says after a long moment. ‘And Bailey is my little sister.’
‘I’m aware,’ I say wryly, wondering where this is going.
The corners of his lips lift into the beginnings of a smile I’m increasingly become fond of, but they dip almost immediately downwards back into a contemplative frown. ‘I just mean that they’re important to me. And if there’s anything I can do to make them happy, I’ll do it in a heartbeat.’
It’s easy to imagine Dane slipping into the protective older brother role for Bailey, and I feel a twinge of unexpected jealousy.
I’m the eldest out of the three of us, but Josh and I are only a year apart and the idea of him doing or saying something like this for me is unfathomable. I don’t think we’ve even said a word to each other in about two months. Though I suppose Mum’s birthdayiscoming up, so I’ll hear from him soon.
Technically.
What’ll actually happen is this: I’ll fire up the rarely used siblings’ group chat I created five years ago and subtly remind both Leanne and Josh about Mum’s upcomingbirthday by floating suggestions for a gift. Leanne will enthusiastically participate in the gift selection – but will have no intention of paying – and Josh will leave me on read. If I’m lucky, he’ll frantically message me the day before Mum’s birthday and ask if I wouldn’t mind putting his name on the gift.
And I’ll do it.
Just like I do every year.
‘That’s why I’m here tonight,’ Dane continues. ‘I wanted to clear the air and make sure that when Bailey officially sends the request for the wedding – and itiscoming, by the way, if it hasn’t already; Bailey’s fully aboard the Eliott train – that you don’t turn it down just because you can’t stand to be in the same room as me.’ He clears his throat, and I can’t quite place the expression on his face. He looks almost wary, like he’s afraid of what I’m going to say. ‘Where do we stand right now, Eliott?’
It’s a fair question and, if he’d asked it two hours ago, I know exactly what my answer would’ve been. But now it’s two hours later and the embarrassment I’ve been stoking for the last two years has simmered well below the surface.
I feel an unexpected sense of trust towards Dane, too. His offer to try again notwithstanding, he’s been the perfect gentleman about all this. And besides, it’ll just be one more time. I’ll do the wedding and that’ll be it.
No more Dane.
‘We’re good,’ I tell him. ‘I swear I’m not going to run away at the sight of you again.’
