The silence stretches, taut and charged, until my phone buzzes in my pocket. The sound breaks whatever spell has held us in place, and I fumble to check the message—a photo of Gordie in his cone from LeMarcus, with the caption:
Patient resting comfortably. Doc says no twerking for two weeks.
Under normal circumstances, this would make me laugh. Right now, I can barely process the words on the screen.
"I'll let you finish getting ready," I say, backing out of the room without ever remembering what I came to ask for in the first place. "We should probably leave in ten minutes."
I close the door and lean against the wall in the hallway, running a hand over my face. What the hell just happened? After weeks of careful boundaries and trying my best to protect her while being a friend, I've completely shattered the illusion with one unfiltered comment.
The drive to my brother's neighborhood is short, though every minute feels like an eternity. Lena sits beside me in the passenger seat of her car since we left mine with LeMarcus, her dress now covering the body I can't stop thinking about. Her scent fills the car, something light and floral that makes me want to bury my face in her neck.
Keep it together, A-Stag.
"You look beautiful," I say, keeping my eyes firmly on the road. It's a massive understatement, but it's the most appropriate thing I can manage right now.
"Thank you." She smooths a hand over the silky fabric of her dress. "You clean up pretty well yourself."
I'm wearing a light blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up, dark jeans, and a navy tie that I'm suddenly aware matches her dress almost perfectly. We look like a real couple who coordinated their outfits, which will only fuel the speculation I'm supposedly trying to avoid.
"Sorry about earlier," I say, unable to let it go. "I shouldn't have just walked in like that."
"It's fine." Her voice is casual, but I catch the slight hitch in her breath. "We're roommates. These things happen."
Do they? Do roommates usually tell each other they're sexy while staring at them in their underwear? After I previously told her I want to bite her thighs? And now I really, really want to bite those thighs…
I want to pursue this to clear the air, but we're already pulling up to the small parking area near Gunnar and Emerson's place. Above the hum of city traffic, I hear the sounds of laughter and music as I help Lena out of the car.
Gunnar and Emerson chose an easy venue—the riverside patio behind their apartment building, decorated with strands of lights and glass bulbs that catch the late afternoon sun. Simple wooden tables dot the grass, laden with comfort food. I spot a fully tricked-out cookie table with a zillion different varieties and a huge ice chest full of milk to go with it.
"This is lovely," Lena says, taking in the scene. "So relaxed."
"That's Gun and Em for you. They care about the marriage, not the wedding." I rest my hand on the small of her back without thinking, then quickly pull away when I remember our agreement to keep our distance today.
My thumb tingles where it brushed against the silk of her dress. It's going to be a long evening.
We make our way through the gathering, with Lena greeting various family members and teammates. Each time I say her name, each time I watch her smile and shake hands, Iremember the curve of those hips and the soft skin I haven't touched. Keeping my hands to myself is becoming an exercise in willpower I wasn't prepared for.
Uncle Tim nods at us from across the patio, his calculating gaze tracking our movements. Coach Thompson is here as well, raising an eyebrow when he spots us but offering a small nod of acknowledgment. The fraternization policy hangs over us like a cloud, but it's increasingly difficult to care when Lena looks the way she does tonight.
"A-Stag!" Tucker materializes beside us, clapping me on the shoulder. "And Dr. Sinclair, looking absolutely stunning." He gives me a knowing smirk. "You two just missed Gun's mini-meltdown when he couldn't find his bow tie."
"Is he okay now?" I ask, scanning the crowd for my brother.
"Yeah, he's fine. Odin found it in the bathroom." Tucker's gaze shifts between Lena and me, his smirk widening. "You two seem... tense. Everything good?"
Heat creeps up my neck. Is it that obvious? "Everything's fine. Just been a long day with Gordie's surgery."
"Riiiight. Gordie." Tucker winks at Lena. "How's the patient doing?"
"He's recovering well," she says smoothly. "LeMarcus is sending regular updates." She holds up her phone, and they smile at the latest pic with Gordie licking a frozen strawberry.
Tucker seems to want to say more, but a small string ensemble begins to tune up, signaling the ceremony is about to start. We make our way to the seats facing the river, where Gunnar already stands, looking nervous but happy in jeans and a blue bow tie.
I find myself stealing glances at Lena as we sit side by side. The sunlight catches the golden undertones in her skin, making her practically glow. The neckline of her dress reveals a tempting expanse of collarbone and the gentle swell of hercleavage. I force my gaze forward, focusing on my brother instead.
The music changes, and everyone turns to see Emerson appear from the apartment building. She's radiant in flowing blue silk that clings to her curves, her dark curls crowned with wildflowers. The look on Gunnar's face is one I've never seen before—pure, undiluted joy and certainty.
Something twists in my chest as I watch them. What makes Gunnar so different from me? How is he able to find someone who looks at him the way Emerson does now? Someone who chooses him, solely him, without hesitation or qualification?
