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The Consequence of Loving Colton

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“Right.” My voice wavered. “But he’s like facing the door. All of him.”

“All of him?”

“His parts,” I clarified. Swear I felt my entire body go up in flames. Great, so now I was going to hell for looking at his parts. His very nice parts. His yummy, tight, straining—I needed to stop before I gave myself a stroke. “He’s facing the window and leaning against the car and I swear, Max, the whole front of his body is pressed up against . . . my car.”

“Naked?”

“What?” I yelled.

“Well, you said his parts.”

“Not his parts-parts,” I clarified. Shoot me now. Could this conversation get any more awkward? “Never mind, I mean—oh, crap.”

“What? What’s happening?”

I could see Max now, coffee thrust in the air, pacing the Starbucks floor like a crazy person.

“He’s stretching across the car and—” I stopped mid-sentence. “Shit, my brother’s on the other side.”

“Let me get this straight.” Max chuckled. “You have your lifelong crush, who just so happens to be your brother’s best friend, on one side, his parts pressed firmly against your hot little Mercedes, and your brother, who has no idea of this sad infatuation, on the other side, making it possible for you to ogle his best friend’s goodies?”

“Yup.” My breathing picked up as I heard Colton laugh and then his front pressed against my door. “Good Lord, I’m sweating. He’s—”

“Please don’t finish that sentence. It makes me want to puke, and as much as you make fun of me for not having a girlfriend, it’s not because I prefer men, so please . . . spare me the details.”

“Fine.”

“Milo?”

“What?” My eyes were glued to Colton’s hot body as his stomach stretched across an eight-pack straight off a glossy magazine cover.

“Seduce him.”

“With what?” I whisper-yelled. “I have nothing to offer him!”

“It’s not like I want you to plant a chocolate trail from the ground to your lips, Milo.”

“I know that!” I snapped. “Besides, he’s allergic to chocolate.”

“Please tell me you don’t have his medical history memorized.”

“I don’t,” I lied, suddenly finding great interest in the black leather steering wheel while my shame increased. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. His Facebook profile says he likes blondes. I have dark hair.”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you stalk him on Facebook and just help you fix the problem. So dye your hair.”

“Yeah, let me just get the hair dye from the backseat, Max!”

“Sheesh, touchy. You, my friend, need to get laid.”

“Tell me about it,” I muttered. “I’m the one stuck in the damn car with nothing but my Kindle and a prayer to keep me occupied.”

“Your life makes me sad.”

“Shut up.”

“Seduce him.”

“Again, with what?”

“Your body.”

“I have no body.” I slumped against the seat in a pout. “Besides, I don’t know the first thing about seduction. And he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“I tried kissing him when I was sixteen and he laughed in my face.”

“To be fair, your skirt was tucked into your underwear.”

“Not the point!” I yelled for real this time. Why the heck had I drunk that entire bottle of wine and confessed all my embarrassing moments to Max? The terrible two outside my car began banging loudly on the windows. Great, I’d probably captured their attention when I raised my voice. And fantastic, the car began to move. I’d officially awakened the beasts.

“I’m in hell.”

“Well . . .” Max laughed. “Don’t let the flames give you a sunburn. I gotta run, just saw my Starbucks barista . . . I will get a date if it kills me! Oh, and good luck. You’ll need it.”

“Right.” I clicked “End” and shut off the car.

Nothing was going as planned—that was for sure.

CHAPTER TWO

MILO

I opened the car door and faced the guys.

“Hey, Milo! You made it!” Jason, my older, sweeter brother joined Colton on the other side of the car and smacked him on the back. “You gonna stay in your car all night or come congratulate me?”

I shrugged and unbuckled my seat belt. “Sure, Jason, congrats. You grew a pair of balls and settled down. I’m so proud.” I jumped into his arms for a hug before he could put me into a headlock.

“Very funny,” he murmured against my hair. “By the way, Colt’s date bailed on him so I kinda sacrificed you on the family favor altar. You guys are stuck with one another. That okay?”

Is that okay? I tried to keep my face from falling. How the heck was I supposed to get over my childhood crush if he was going to be around me every second of every day that weekend? Ever since Colton took my heart and drowned it in the bottom of his parents’ pool, I’d been strategic about my visits home. It kinda pissed me off how easy it had been for us to grow apart. We went from spending every week together to barely seeing one another on Christmas. This last year he’d gone with his parents to Europe for Christmas so I was going on eighteen months of no Colton exposure . . . I imagined him kind of like the plague, only the good kind, the kind that I had to keep away from my girl parts at all costs. In theory I’d known he would be here for the wedding, I just hadn’t realized I’d be forced into his presence or that just by smelling him I would be transported back to freshman year of high school when I used to trace his name with a glitter pen. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">

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