until my eyes drew upward and his attention followed.
“Brando!” Travis jumped from the truck bed, the absence of his weight making it lift. “How are you, man?”
Travis offered Brando his hand and they shook. It wasn’t as personal as the one-arm man hug that Brando and the Lewis brothers gave to each other from time to time; more civil.
“Travis.” Brando nodded. “I’m good.”
The conversation steered toward them. Travis asked Brando about college—where he had decided to go, what he was majoring in. My cheeks felt hot and my eyes found my fingers when Brando told him he had turned down all of the scholarships offered and was working at the oil refinery.
Brando didn’t seem to have a problem with it; neither did I. There was no shame in an honest day’s work. But I felt guilty whenever the topic veered in that direction. All of his potential had been wasted on a cause not worth sacrificing for.
“Oh.” Travis sounded surprised. He put his hands in his pockets. “That’s, um—that sounds good, man.”
“Yeah. It’s honest work.” Brando watched him, wariness in his stance. He took my hand to help me from the truck, and I naturally gravitated closer to his side. His hand snaked around my waist, his hand settling on my hip, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. It was, to us.
Travis’s gaze lingered over our connected hands longer than necessary, in my opinion. Then in a move almost comical, his eyebrows shot up to his forehead and his eyes widened.
“You and Scarlett?” Judging by the shocked look on his face, he didn’t mean the verbal vomit, but the words were out there.
“Yeah, me and Scarlett,” Brando said, his tone flat.
“Lucky, isn’t that what Elliott used to call you?” Travis asked.
“Seven.” Brando grinned. It didn’t seem all that amiable, but then again, what circulated under the surface was mine to feel.
“Yeah. I’m sure he meant it for the same reason. Lucky you.” He gave Brando a tight smile. “It was good seeing you both.” He retrieved his red cup from the truck bed. He pointed it toward a group loitering around, chatting. “I better get back.” He turned to me and gave a warm smile. “I look forward to seeing you at your family’s Christmas party. Or will you be traveling?”
“No.” I rested my head against Brando’s chest. “I’ll be here.”
Travis stalked off toward his circle of friends, leaving us in our own space of silence.
“Would you like to go?” I blurted, shattering it. “With me? To the Christmas party?”
Brando’s attention was elsewhere, and when I spoke, it took him a moment to focus on me.
“It’s uptight and full of snobs,” I rallied, “but I’ve been meaning to ask.”
“No.”
“No?”
“You’ll go with me.”
“Oh.” I smiled. “I see. You were already invited?”
“Yeah, I get an invite every year. I just don’t go.”
“In that case. Yes. Yes, I’d love to go with you.”
He looked pointedly in the direction Travis now stood. “Travis the frat boy likes you.”
“Travis?” I scoffed. “I don’t think so. He’s always been friendly. He once asked me if I wanted to play chess with him.”
“He’s playing chess, all right, but with a different set of rules.”
“Sometimes playing chess is just that, Brando. A game between two people.”
“Yeah, sometimes. When the two people are old and need something to do while complaining about the weather.”
He turned my face in the same direction he had been looking in. Travis caught my eye and turned back to talk to another friend. He had been staring at us.
“You,” he said. “He can’t stop staring.”
“He’s in shock. About us.”
Brando grabbed my hand and led me closer to the fire where a few people were dancing. A soft, slow song drifted in the night. He muttered something underneath his breath—naïve being the operative word.
I made a flippant comment about not appreciating his insinuation that I was being naïve about Travis.
He ignored me, pulling me closer to his body, and I responded by wrapping my arms around his neck. “Dance with me, Ballerina Girl.” He slid his fingertips up one of my arms, entwining our fingers together, before setting our connected hands between us.
I looked up into his eyes and the breath that I had been holding came out in a whoosh. My heart sped up. The flutters floated aimlessly, carrying gravity with them.
How long would he be able to elicit this reaction from me? Oh God, let it be forever.
I loved the way his arm wrapped around my lower back,