Always.
Wanting to keep the situation light, I roll up my napkin and shoot it at her, hitting her in the forehead. She smiles at me as I say, “I think this is the beginning of one hell of a friendship.”
Chapter Eighty-Two
RYAN
Sitting in a director’s chair, I stare at my phone, scrolling through Instagram as music booms around me, Frank Sinatra setting the mood for the final act of the show. Everyone has been gussied up, and my job for the night is done. I should be cleaning my brushes and packing up, but I take a second to breathe.
Doing makeup for a variety show is a little more stressful than I expected. The amount of eyelashes I have to keep reapplying during dress changes is incredible, and man, are some of the girls bitchy. Perhaps that’s a given. I’d be bitchy too if I had to prance around with what looks like a Christmas tree on the top of my head while wearing a bikini, not to mention four-inch heels. That can’t be comfortable.
“Are you packing soon?” Chance, the stage director asks me.
I glance up, paused on an Instagram video of someone making scallops and capers. I can’t cook to save my life, but I can watch videos on how things are made.
“I think so. Just taking a breather. Amanda was a bit of a raving bitch today.” It’s okay to say this to Chance, because he deals with the girls all the time and has his own moments with their antics.
“She auditioned for Frozen, the musical, and didn’t make it, so she’s taking it out on all of us.”
“She can sing?”
“I guess not well.” He winks then presses his hand to his ear where an earpiece is propped up. He rolls his eyes and says, “I have to go tend to something. See you tomorrow.”
I give him a wave and turn back to my phone just as a text comes in.
Colby.
What the hell is he doing texting me? He’s in the crowd with Sage and the boys.
The boys. It’s what I call them now, because it’s a lot quicker than saying Bent, Balboa, Rowdy, and Colt.
I open his text message.
Colby: How much do those headdresses weigh? We have a bet to see who guessed right. Winner picks dessert.
With the flying and training schedule these guys have, it’s almost impossible to plan something, but luckily I was able to finally get everyone tickets. We decided we’d get dessert afterward. It wouldn’t look like it, but all the guys have a serious sweet tooth, well, besides Bent, as he’s in his own league of eating.
Ryan: It’s unfair that I’ve been nixed out of the chance to pick dessert.
Not that I have any idea of where we would go, but it’s nice to be put in the running.
Colby: I can see how that’s disappointing.
Ryan: So . . .
Colby: So you’re still out. How much does the headdress weigh?
Ryan: Oh no. There is no way in hell I’m telling you that now. Not when I’ve been completely eliminated from chances of picking dessert.
Colby: You’re being difficult, like always. Just tell us.
Ryan: No.
Colby: You’re fucking frustrating, you know that?
I chuckle to myself and type him back.
Ryan: You should really be watching the show. Kick lines are some riveting stuff.
Colby: Colt apparently has laid dibs on the redhead.
Ryan: That’s Amanda. I highly suggest he stays away. She is not very nice.
Colby: I’m pretty sure “nice” isn’t what he cares about.
Ryan: He’s such a pervert.
Colby: Stop deferring and tell us the weight of the damn headdress.
Relentless. Once he has his mind set on something, he doesn’t let up until he gets it. It’s a very annoying attribute, especially for a stubborn, hardheaded person like myself.
Ryan: Make it good for me and I will tell you.
The dots on the phone start to jump but pause, and I can only image what’s going on in row twenty right now. I can see it in my mind. All the guys leaning in, trying to decide how to accommodate my demands. I might not be able to date any of them, or really want to date any of them, but I still kind of have them wrapped around my finger . . . and I like that.
The dots start jumping again and his text is sent.
Colby: Rowdy said if he wins, he’ll let you pick.
Ryan: What was Rowdy’s answer?
Colby: Did you think I was born yesterday? I’m not stupid, Ryan. If I tell you, that’s what you’ll answer. We wrote down all of our answers.
Ryan: Okay, then to make this truly fair, I’ll reveal the answer when you guys meet me backstage.
Colby: Did I mention you’re frustrating?
Ryan: Multiple times a day. See you soon!
* * *
“There she is, the belle of the ball,” Rowdy calls out, walking up to me and wrapping me in a giant hug. Before he can say anything, Colby tears him away out of my grasp.
“Don’t even try to tell her what weight you guessed. Actually, just turn around and don’t look at her. Don’t even try to mouth to her your answer or use your fingers. Hands are in pockets.”
“What about counting off in stomps, is that prohibited too?”
“Go wait in the car.” Colby points to the side while Sage comes up to me and gives me a hug.
“Thank you so much for the tickets. The show was amazing.”
I squeeze her back. Colby’s face softens when he sees me embrace his girl. “Of course I’m glad you all could make it. And you had fun?”
“So much fun,” Sage answers, stepping back into Colby’s embrace. “But we’re dying to know, how much do the headdresses weigh?” She’s bouncing on her toes, so excited.
“Do you have the paper with the answers?”
Colby pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and holds it up. “Tell us the answer and then I’ll show you the paper.”
“You know, Colby, I never realized how competitive you are. It’s not a very attractive side of you.”
“Just give us the answer.”
Sage pats his chest. “He really wants to win. There’s some giant cannoli he’s been really wanting to try.”
“It’s like three fucking feet long. When are we ever going to share that together? Let’s just see what Ryan says, and then we can reveal our desserts. Closest to the number gets to pick, but if you go over, you’re out.”
“Like The Price is Right?” I ask. Colby nods, a smile on his face. “All right. Drum roll please?” Colt rolls his eyes, but Rowdy plays along as he makes a drum-roll sound. I can always count on Rowdy. “The headdresses at the end of the show weigh about twenty-five pounds each.”
“No way.” Colt throws his hands up and protests.
Rowdy shakes his head in disappointment, and Bent and Balboa both give a quick salute and thank you before taking off, leaving a very happy-looking Colby and a very sad-looking Sage.
“Let me guess, you said twenty-five pounds?” I ask Colby.
He flips the paper around in his fingers and shows me the top name.
Colby. Twenty-five pounds.
The fucker knew all along.
Staring me in the eyes, he says, “I hope you like cannoli.” It’s a friendly challenge. This wasn’t my idea, and yet I got roped into it. No idea why.
“What about the other guys, they just left?”
“They’re watching their figures.”
“So am I.” I prop my hands on my hips.
“No, you’re not.” Colby wraps his arm around my shoulders and starts guiding Sage and me out the back door of the theater, Rowdy following closely behind. “Let’s go eat some cannoli.”
Bending forward, Sage catches my eye and says, “I don’t think you know how happy he is right now. This is all he’s been talking about lately. This damn cannoli. I think he set us all up.”
The smirk on Colby’s face lets me believe maybe he did.
* * *
“I have to hand it to you, man, this was a good fucking idea.” Rowdy
takes a sip of his coffee and leans over to shake Colby’s hand. Colby takes his hand and gives it a few good pumps before letting it go. “And who knew there would be little cannoli inside the giant cannoli? Genius.” Rowdy kisses his fingers and tosses them in the air.
I can’t stand him right now.
But, I chuckle at his antics.
I will admit, it’s a damn good dessert. I’ve only had one piece though because frankly, I don’t want to have to spend two hours in the gym tomorrow morning working off more.
“Do you like it, Sage?” Colby asks, his arm stretched behind her.
Cutely, she licks her fingers and nods. “It’s so good. My idea was to go to one of those self-serve ice cream places with all the toppings, but this was such a better idea. Did you send a picture to the other guys?”
Colby nods. “They sent a picture back holding up bottles of beer.”
“Clearly they don’t know what they’re missing out on,” I add, eyeing another cannoli piece but chastising myself. That’s old Ryan. She would have eaten more, but new Ryan doesn’t eat excessively.
“Should we get a to-go box? Because there is no way I can eat any more.” Sage pats her stomach and rests her cheek on Colby’s chest. He leans in and gives her a kiss on the top of her head.
It’s really cute watching Colby and Sage. They’re so freaking sweet. I can actually see how he’s matured and mellowed over the years. He is still intense, and I doubt that will ever change. But he’s also . . . calmer. As if he’s grown into himself and is good with who he is and where he’s at. And watching him with Sage? He looks at peace, something I never saw in him all those years ago. Sage has found herself a damn good man. How she isn’t climbing him like a tree is a little beyond me, because seriously, the man is gorgeous.
“I’ll grab a box,” Rowdy says, standing from the table.
I pull out my phone and open my Uber app. “If we’re leaving, I’m going to call for an Uber now. Who knows how long it will take.”
“I’ll take you home,” Colby offers.
“No, it’s fine.”
“You are not taking an Uber,” Sage says. “I’ll go home with Rowdy since I have an early morning, and Colby can take you home.”
“What’s going on?” Rowdy asks, setting down a to-go box.
“Colby is taking Ryan home so she doesn’t have to take an Uber, and you’re going to take me home.” I really want to argue this, because yes, it's a forty-minute round trip, but surely Sage wouldn't want to go home with Rowdy when she could get an extra forty minutes with Colby? Not to mention the goodnight kiss.
“Oh.” Rowdy pauses. “That works.” Huh. Rowdy looks as confused as I am here.
“You guys, I really don’t mind taking an Uber. I do it all the time.”
“Just let me take you home. Christ,” Colby groans, irritated.
And the man has spoken.
* * *
“Why do you take an Uber to work when you have a car?” Colby asks, buckling his seatbelt.
I do the same and set my purse on the floor of his truck, getting comfortable.
“Because I hate driving in this traffic. I’d rather have someone else drive me while I read.”
“I thought you only read on occasion, when Oprah tells you what to read.”
I can’t believe he remembers me saying that. We were in the hotel room after the wedding and he told me he likes to read books, and I made an off-the-cuff comment about Oprah. Some one has a good memory. Hell, I can barely remember what I wore yesterday, let alone remember something someone said months ago.
Turning toward him, I lean against the side of my passenger door and say, “I decided to expand my reading. I picked up a mystery at the grocery store the other day, and so far, it’s really captivating. I like the escape I get when I read.”
“I’m the same way.” Colby’s voice grows serious. “For the longest time, it was the only escape I had when I was a kid, and now I find comfort in it. I might read some of the same books over and over again with a new one interspersed between them, but nonetheless, I enjoy the way I can shut off the outside world and live in another reality.”
“Don’t you read fighter pilot stuff? Isn’t that already your reality?”
He chuckles and tilts his head toward me, eyes still on the road. “Want to know a secret?”
“Always.”
“Not all of them are fighter pilot books.”
In disbelief, I say, “If you tell me you read romance, I’m going to keel over right now.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, nothing like that. But I do like a good thriller every once in a while. I didn’t start reading those until later on, after college. The aviation fiction genre started to become too much, so I picked up a thriller, and I really enjoy them.”
When you look at Colby, your initial reaction wouldn’t be this guy reads. You’d more likely wonder what gym workouts he does, because he’s that ripped. But once you begin peeling back the layers, you start to realize he’s not the meathead he looks to be. He’s a kind, caring, and sensitive soul. From what I know about his grandpa, he sounds just like him.
“Does Sage read too?”
“A little, but nothing like me. She picks up a book and dabbles in them here and there, but she’ll have a pile on her nightstand, acting as if she’s a big reader.”
That makes me chuckle. “Putting up a front, huh? That trickster.” Changing the subject because he gave me an opening, I say, “So you saw her nightstand . . .”
He shakes his head, a grin tilting up his lips. “And?”
I nudge his arm with my fingers. “Have you two done it yet?”
Light from the street lamps helps me catch a little glimpse of a blush spread over his cheeks. No matter how many times I try to talk to him about this, he’s still shy. Which he shouldn’t be, because from experience, I know the guy is amazing at sex. Like really fucking amazing.
I hate to admit, and I would never tell him this in fear of inflating his ego, but he’s the best I’ve ever had. By far. No competition. Colby Brooks is in his own league when it comes to hot fucking, and Sage is one lucky girl to be able to experience what he has to offer.
He scratches the back of his neck. “Well, no, not really. We’ve fooled around, but we haven’t gone all the way.”
“Really?” I ask, shocked. What’s the girl waiting for? Hell, I practically jumped his bones the minute I got a chance. Well, there was no practically about it. I did jump his bones the minute I got the chance.
“Yeah. I don’t know. I feel like she’s not ready, and I don’t want to push her. Balboa was telling me she’s had some trouble in the past with a boyfriend cheating on her so I wonder if maybe that’s why she’s taking it slow. I don’t mind. I’m having fun.”
“But you’re jacking off every morning in the shower, aren’t you?”
“Jesus,” he mutters.
“Stop being so prudish. Hell, I use my vibrator almost every night. It’s almost like clockwork for me now.”
He stops at a stop sign and turns toward me. “Really?”
“What? Are men the only ones allowed to masturbate? Don’t be that guy, Colby. Women can do it too.”
He rolls his eyes. “I know that, but I didn’t think they did it that often.”
“I’m a sexual creature, my friend. I like to get off before I go to bed, as it helps me relax. I always get a really great sleep if I have a huge orgasm. Don’t you?”
“Never kept track,” he mutters.
“What did you say?”
“I never keep track,” he says a little louder, a hint of annoyance in his words.
“You really should. After you drop me off, go home, pull up some naked selfies of Sage, and stroke one out. Tell me how great you slept in the morning.”
“I don’t have naked selfies of Sage.”
“God, I admire her. Such self-control. So sensible. Sensible Sage.”
He props his arm up on the car door and steers casually
with one hand. “Do you send naked selfies?”
“Not anymore. That shit will bite you in the ass if you’re not with the right guy.”
“And you think Sage is with the right guy?”
I nod very slowly. “I think Sensible Sage is with the perfect guy.”
Colby shakes his head. “There’s no such thing as perfect, Ryan.”
“Lies. I’ve seen perfect before.”
“In what?”
I think about that for a second and feel the shift in the mood. It’s gone from teasing to more serious. I want to say something profound, something that will blow Colby out of his seat.
“I guess it’s how you look at it.”
“What do you mean?” He stops at a stoplight and gives me his attention.
“To me, there is a left and right side of perfect. The right side of perfect is what society deems worthy of the title. It’s the kind of perfect you believe doesn’t exist, but in others’ eyes, it does. And then there is the left side of perfect, my favorite kind. That’s the kind of soul-bearing perfect, full of flaws and shortcomings. It’s the most beautiful side of perfect . . . the imperfect.”
He blinks a few times, really studying me, giving thought to my perspective. When the light turns green, he doesn’t drive right away, the empty streets not urging him to move forward. “What side do you see yourself on?”
I lick my lips, staring into those onyx eyes of his, so dark and focused that I can feel the beat of my heart in my throat.
“In all honesty, I wish I was on the left side. I wish I could confidently embrace my flaws and be proud of them, but instead, every day, I strive to be on the right side.” Every. Fucking. Day.
His brow creases, a frown forming over his lips as he tries to understand my answer. “Why?”
I tear my gaze away, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. His stare is too intense, this moment too transparent for such a small space. “Why do I strive to be on the right side?” I was told to, because my flaws were too numerous. “Because it’s all that’s ever been engrained in me. I don’t even know how to commit to the left side when the right side consumes me every damn day of my life.”
The Duets Page 67