But then without even realizing, my eyes begin to betray me, slowly trailing Harley from his head to his feet, and back again, to the way his End Zone T-shirt hugs his lean muscles, to the trademark jeans he wears, the ones that fit him as if they’ve been molded to each of his strong thighs. With a suddenly dry, scratchy throat, I down the remainder of my beer before pouring myself another from the pitcher on the table.

Glancing back at Nash and Anna, finding them once again kissing unabashedly, their hands all over one another, I don’t even care. But, when I find myself looking back at Harley, the hint of a smile pulling at my lips, I realize at that precise moment that I am in way over my head.

Chapter 18

I had it all worked out in my head. My plan was foolproof. At least, I’d thought it was. But with every ounce of beer that I consumed, the more the finer points of my shoddy plan began to blur into a pixelated haze I couldn’t for the life of me remember the details of. It was simple. All I had to do was get drunk enough so I could forget about Nash, and try it on with Harley without being all conspicuous and awkward about it. I was going to test myself. To see if my feelings for him were real, or if it was just my mind playing tricks on me.

Easy, right? You’d think so, huh.

I wrap my arms around Harley’s shoulders, standing on my tiptoes, and I crane my neck to place a kiss on his cheek. Of course, he shoots me a confused look, his brow furrowed as he tries to make sense of my unexpected act of affection. But, thankfully he goes along with it, ducking his head to reciprocate with a kiss on the very tip of my nose; a move so unlike him it renders me a little breathless, but I somehow pull myself together. I tug him closer and he wraps his arms around my waist, burying his face into the crook of my neck, and I breathe him in, quickly becoming lost within his embrace.

I blame the alcohol.

I close my eyes, breathing in his heady scent of cologne, mint and liquor, smiling in an unexpected yet contented bliss. I’ve never felt this before, this all-consuming warmth as it floods through my body. But, when I finally manage to open my heavily lidded eyes, pulling myself from my Harley-induced reverie, I find Nash standing by the jukebox, watching me intently with an unreadable expression on his face. His lips are twisted to the side and his jaw is working overtime, clenching and unclenching, ticking almost painfully. A deep crease is etched between his brows, and his eyes are glaring as he runs a hand through his hair, his shoulders rising and falling in a heavy sigh before he tears his gaze away. I can tell he’s trying to remain unaffected, but I know him better than that. He’s very much affected.