Because you were getting dry fucked by Ryan’s son last night…
A groan manages to escape me. They confuse it for my annoyance at their kiss, not what’s really going on in my head, thank God.
Dad mentions something about a change in the florist when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I tune them out to see who texted me.
Brother Lover: A few more weeks, and we can make this official.
Me: There’s nothing to make official. Go bother someone else.
Brother Lover: I only have you to bother. Soon, I can bother you all the time.
What the hell does that even mean?
Rather than replying, I shove my phone back into my pocket and rejoin the conversation.
“You know, the flowers could be messed up, or the cake could fall, or it could rain, but want to know what I’m most worried about?” Ryan’s voice cracks with emotion. “That they won’t come.”
They being his children.
“If they love you, they’ll come to the wedding,” Dad assures him, squeezing his hand. “I know you guys are in a rocky spot, but it’ll get better. It already has. We saw Canyon just the other day, and Alis has started practicing violin with Carrie. We’ll be a family. You’ll see.”
Guilt is a tangible thing I can feel rolling around on my tongue—sour and tastes like regret.
I’m helping Carrie because I want to find dirt on Canyon. Because we’re in some epic pissing match that neither of us will stand down from. If Dad knew what I was really up to, he’d be disappointed. More than that, he’d be crushed.
And then what?
Kick me out on my ass when I graduate?
Bile rises in my throat. I chug my orange juice to keep from barfing.
“Alis,” Dad says, giving me a hopeful smile. “Maybe you could talk to them. Since you’re becoming friends with both Carrie and Canyon. It would mean the world to Ryan and me if you could convince them to come to the wedding.”
Oh, fuck.
“I, uh, am not sure I have that kind of power. Canyon’s a stubborn ass, and he’s still pretty angry.”
Ryan deflates at my words. “I just wish they’d talk to me…”
Despair hangs in the air. I hate seeing my dad so down because of Ryan’s pain. If I have the power to get him what he wants, I should certainly try. Canyon hates his dad and me, but he does talk to me. Maybe I could convince him to go to the wedding.
“I’ll bring it up to both of them,” I promise Ryan. “I don’t know how they’ll react, but I’ll try. I know it means a lot to you.”
Ryan’s smile is bright and lights up the entire room, much like his beautiful son. “Thank you, Alis. I owe you one.”
My dad’s brilliant grin is all the thanks I need.
I can do this.
I have to.
Canyon beat me.
The fucker beat me.
Just once out of four different matches. But still. It’s enough to have him gloating—prancing along the track like a fucking rooster with his chest puffed out. Coach Davies is jabbering away about how we’re going to blow up Marsh Hall High’s world when we kill them in the 100-meters and that there’ll be college scouts there to see us run. My mind is on a million things besides the track meet on Saturday, though.
It’s on last night.
Canyon still wears the self-assured, untouchable godlike expression that he did when he pinned me down and made me come. Like he’s the king of my world. It’s infuriating.
“Again,” I blurt out, ending Coach’s incessant talking.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Coach grunts out. “I’m not going to have the two of you pulling something before our first meet because you’re so goddamn competitive.”
I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest. “You happy?”
“Completely,” Canyon says with a wide grin. “You look as though you need some cheering up, though, bro.”
Coach chuckles. “Enough, you two. Get showered and hydrated. I’ll see the both of you tomorrow.”
I take off back to the locker room, eager to wash the sweat off my body. I’m scrubbing shampoo through my hair when I hear Canyon’s annoying whistling. The tune sounds familiar. G-Eazy, I think. I ignore him to rinse off. After drying off, I wrap my towel around my waist and walk back into the locker room. All the other athletes are still practicing, so it’s just the two of us. I sit down on the bench and wait for him to finish cleaning up so I can ask him the inevitable.
I’m jittery and trembling until he rounds the corner, his towel loosely tied low at his hips. My mouth goes dry as I marvel over his defined oblique muscles. The trail of hair from his navel to beneath his towel just begs to be licked. I force my stare up his body, drinking in each beautifully hardened ab and his muscular pectorals. His dark-tan nipples are peaked. I’d give both my balls up if he’d let me suck on them.
Fuck.
I press my palm over my dick that’s trying to escape my towel. Canyon’s brow lifts in amusement. He crosses his bulky arms over his chest and takes a step toward me. Water drips from the dark hair that hangs in his eyes, temptingly rolling down his cheeks.
I want to lick him.
Every last inch.
“Can we talk?” I rasp out, unable to keep from sweeping my stare over his sexy abs once more.
“What do you want to talk about, Sommers? Your cum-covered underwear that are still sitting in my hamper.”
I glower at him. “You said you’d wash them.”
“I said no such thing. Besides, I’m still contemplating how to get them attached to the flagpole.” He winks and fuck if fire doesn’t shoot straight to my balls. “What’s on your mind besides my dick in your mouth?”
“I fucking hate you.”
“I’d believe that if you weren’t desperately trying to hide your erection, man.”
Smug bastard.
“I want you to come to the wedding,” I blurt out.
“As your date?”
“W-What? No.” I run my fingers through my wet hair. “For your dad.”
His humor is wiped from his face as a scowl takes over. “No.”
“Canyon, please.”
“Fuck no.”
I stand up and walk over to him, my knees wobbly. “Maybe we can negotiate. You and Carrie agree to go and—”
“You’ll give me something in return.”
“Something like that,” I grumble. “What do you want?”
“That’s a layered question.” He steps closer until we’re nearly touching. I’m forced to angle my head up to see his face. “I’d say a blowjob, but that’s what you want to give me. I need something you don’t want to give.”
“You want me to let you win at the meet?”
His lip curls up, clearly offended by my question. “No. And that’s awfully arrogant of you to think you’d win in the first place, especially since I just beat your ass out there.”
“What do you want, Voss?”
“Collateral.”
“Elaborate.”
“On your knees, Wonderland.”
I gape at him. “But you said—”
He presses a thumb to my lips. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re not sucking my dick.”