Page 37 of The Late Hit
“Athleisure is in, Q,” I say with a smile, my eyes cascading up and down his body, stopping to admire the way his gray joggers accent his body.
He’s working with a very good asset, which I felt stabbing me in my stomach this morning. My mouth goes dry, but I can’t help myself from staring. It’s just right there. Men in gray sweats should be outlawed in public.
“Wilder, if you don’t stop staring at my dick, we are going to have a very embarrassing repeat of this morning,” he whispers.
Immediately, my eyes snap up to his, as heat spreads up my neck, and a pink blush settles on my cheeks.
“Good morning, welcome to Grant Park Bistro,'' the hostess greets us. “Just the two of you?”
“Yes, please,” Quinton answers, placing his arm over my shoulders.
Clearly, he doesn’t want to have a repeat of last night when I bitched out our waitress. Oops. This might be one of those “sorry, not sorry” moments.
“Oh, we have a reservation,” I announce a little too loudly. I’m flustered. My nerves are shot. On top of that, I’m having weird feelings for my best friend, and I’m about to spill my deepest secrets that no one outside of Chicago knows. “It’s under Wilder.”
The hostess takes a minute scrolling through her iPad.
“Yes, there it is. Mr. and Mrs. Wilder, please follow me.”
My stomach flutters at the hostess’s slip-up, but neither Q nor I correct her. She leads us to a booth near the window, setting down our menus, and letting us know our waiter will be right with us.
Silence falls over the table as we peruse the menu. When it comes to eating out, I’m so predictable. I find something that I love, and I don’t usually stray from it. Which means I’ll be getting the Land Benedict—Eggs Benedict served with ham—a side of breakfast potatoes and a cup of fruit. Oh, and of course, a mimosa. Who can pass up a mimosa? Especially at brunch. Closing my menu, I place it at the edge of the table, the universal sign that I’m ready to order. While I wait for Q, I look around the space.
There’s a couple at the table next to us, and you can definitely get that early dating vibe from them. Both are a little jumpy and a little awkward. While I can’t see her face, I can see his, and his eyes say that he’s nervous as hell, but he’s smitten with her. There’s a warm glow in his eyes. It’s sweet, and I can’t help but smile to myself as I watch them. It reminds me of a memory I’ve long since forgotten.
“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Bryce and Brinley. Happy birthday to you,” everyone sang around our table.
Bryce and I looked at each other before bending over to blow out two birthday candles on our piece of cheesecake.
Today is the day that Bryce and I finally turn sixteen. We can officially get our licenses. Hello, freedom! We’ve been waiting for this day, well, since we learned the significance of turning sixteen. Not only is today my sixteenth birthday, but Asher has a whole night planned for just the two of us to celebrate. I can’t help but think that tonight is going to be the night, you know, the big one. We’ve done just about everything else, and all signs are leaning toward sex.
Just thinking of sex makes my cheeks flush. I quickly glance around the table, hoping that no one is paying attention to what I’m thinking about. Only my eyes snag on a pair of piercing blue eyes that are getting darker and darker by the second. Asher is watching me with intensity, and nervousness, but it’s like he can sense my inner thoughts. The thoughts of the two of us finally losing our virginity, together. My cheeks flare, and I have to look away. Only I look the wrong way, catching my twin brother watching us.
Busted.
Bryce wraps his arm across my shoulders, leaning over to me to whisper in my ear. “I swear, Brynnie, you two need to chill out. It’s written all over both of your faces. And I don’t want to see that shit. You'remysister, and he’s mybest friend. I’ve barely gotten used to the two of you playing tonsil hockey, I don’t need to think of anything else going on between you two.”
I lean in to add to the conversation. “How about you worry about you, and I’ll worry about me, brother? The whole school hears about your sexcapades, which means I hear about them,” I shiver. “Not to mention the girls who come up tomewanting me to pass on what they want to do toyou. Makes me want to swallow bleach.”
Bryce and I hold eye contact before we are interrupted by our parents.
“Kids, your dad and I have to stay in the city tonight for business. The Nelsons are going to drive you back home.”
It’s all I can do not to look at Asher. Instead, I bring my lip in between my teeth, biting back a smile.
Tonight is going to bethenight.
“Brynn? Yo, Wilder?” I hear Quinton, breaking me out of the flashback.
Shaking my head, I look up at him, realizing our waiter is standing at our table.
“Shit, sorry,” I mutter. “What did you ask?”
Our waiter looks me up and down before smiling at me and repeating his question of asking what I’d like to drink.
“I’ll take a mimosa and a black coffee please.”
He walks away and I realize that Q had already ordered, which means I was in quite a fog. While we wait for the waiter to return, silence falls over our table.
