Page 4 of A Summer Thing

“Okay.” I smile. I don’t really care what we do, spending time with Addy, any place, is my favorite thing to do.

Whether we’re sneaking out of her bedroom window and scaling the side of her house to run off and dance until our feet fall off at some party, or just hanging out on her bed in our PJs watching a movie, it doesn’t really matter to me.

Addy can make anything feel like an adventure.

It’s one of the infinite reasons why I love her, and why she’s my favorite person on this planet. Her and her whole family, really. And sitting here, at their giant farmhouse table, Stacy humming at the stove and Addy smiling next to me, it hits me for the first time that this is really it.

The starting point for the rest of my life.

______

As soon as that thought barrels into me, loud and rambunctious laughter fills the space of the back porch. I turn to scope it out just as the back door swings open and a bunch of sweaty football players pour into the kitchen.

Boys— men —of all colors and shapes and sizes crowd around Stacy at the island, more than a few gazes swinging our way. Blue eyes, and green eyes, and brown. A couple of smirks, too.

I clam up involuntarily, my body tightening from the inside out.

I wish I could explain why, but it’s just what I do.

In a room full of people I don’t know, I shrink into myself and everything in me forgets how to work properly.

My mind, my thoughts, my breaths, my heart, my limbs, my mouth—all these things that are supposed to run on autopilot simply falter.

Unless some sort of alcohol is involved, and then they work overtime, making up for all the times they’ve failed me.

I know there’s a deeper-rooted issue lying in that explanation somewhere, but I’ve got a hoard of demons to root through before I can even begin to examine that one. In the grand scheme of things, it’s the least of my worries.

Leaning forward on my elbows, I take another bite of my breakfast, still managing to admire the view from behind the curtain of my blond hair.

Addy nudges my leg underneath the table with her knee, and I smirk around my bite of food.

These football players are—for lack of a better word— hot.

In both the very sweaty and attractive ways, and Addy is barely keeping it together.

I notice her gaze is stuck on one guy in particular, though.

Glued to him like he’s a tall glass of water in a barren desert.

A tall, burly, muscular guy who keeps stealing glances of her, too, and it forces my smirk to stretch higher.

Stacy hands off plates of French toast, eggs, and sausage to eager hands, and then the swarm of guys file out almost as quickly as they came. They congregate around the back porch to eat their breakfasts, their laughter and deep voices penetrating the walls.

“Damn,” I mutter around my last mouthful of food, low enough so only Addy can hear me.

She snickers, but Stacy cuts in with a serious, “Don’t even think about it, girls.”

“Oh,” Addy sighs dramatically, “I already told her they’re off limits—I mean, we’re off limits.

But you and Dad know that will only make us want them more, right?

” Cal walks in halfway through her spiel and directs a stern look her way from over Stacy’s shoulder, his arms wrapping around her waist in a hug.

“Addison Blake Mason!” Stacy scolds at the same time, but her tone softens in the weight of Cal’s hold.

Addy ignores them both, stacking our plates together with a dramatic roll of her eyes that Cal and Stacy can’t see but somehow sense is there anyway, and brings them to the sink for washing.

“I don’t know what your father was thinking, but a few of the boys will be staying in this house for the next few weeks, and while I know they’ll be on their best behavior, I expect you both to be on yours, too,” Stacy adds, and if my heart weren’t already galloping from my lingering anxiety, it would’ve taken off for the races just now.

I don’t know why I didn’t tell Addy about the mysterious guy in her hallway last night. Except that, maybe, I’m still not sure he exists. Proven by the fact that I couldn’t help but notice his absence in the kitchen this morning.

Addy redirects my thoughts, breaking in between her parents and slinging an arm over each of their shoulders. “Declan and I will be on our best behavior. Won’t we, Dec?” She smirks.

Standing between them, it’s easy to see where she gets her looks from.

To see where Cal and Stacy’s features have bled and blended together flawlessly, creating one gorgeous best friend of mine.

She’s a beautiful mix of both her parents.

Curly hair, caramel apple eyes, and warm-toned skin.

Pouty lips, and curves grown women might actually kill for.

It’s no wonder Cal warned his guys off of her—and me, by extension.

The thought inevitably leads me back to last night. To a barely lit hallway, and a dark stare, and a half-naked guy in a low-slung towel with eyes that could pierce your soul.

Goosebumps break out along my skin.

“Yeah, of course,” I agree softly. “Our best behavior.”

Something about my tone has the three of them studying me with varying levels of suspicion.

Cal quickly assessing and letting it go, Stacy considering me with a mild level of apprehension, and then there’s Addy, visibly holding back her laughter because she knows I’m full of shit, but she just hasn’t figured out exactly why yet.

But they quickly move on, discussing our plans for the rest of the day as I smother a smile.

I wonder back on Stacy’s warning. If it means the wall of tattooed muscle is staying in a room on the second floor, too. If it means I’ll be bumping into him again. If I think I can survive something like that for an entire summer.