Chapter 4 Before the wedding

My friend kicks my foot, shifting in the chair that's definitely not made for bulky guys like us. "Shush, Jer. I'm concentrating." "You wouldn't do that even if you were paid." "I would, too," I say, and he raises a brow. "Fine, I wouldn't. This is different." "How different, because I'm about to punch some Karens." "Different enough that even I won't punch anyone." "Damn. Who are you and what have you done to my friend?" I snicker. "Just stay there as my backup." "Backup?" "If anyone asks, you brought me here, not the other way around.

Can't look too fucking desperate." "Who would ask? And why are you desperate?" He tilts his head to the side, studying me closely. "You're never desperate. You get laid more than the three of us combined." "Used to, Jer. Used to. Kolya is playing the grouchy dick role to perfection. He must've caught the disease from a certain uptight presence." He grimaces. "I still can't believe you named your dick Kolya. Seriously, Uncle Kolya is Dad's right arm. That's gross." "Don't care. Ask him to change his name." "Pretty sure it should be the other way around since you're younger." He shakes his head. "Are you going to tell me why we're watching fucking lacrosse? It's boring." "I know, right? Why do you think he's doing it?" A woman with a wrinkled upper lip glares back at us with that patronizing look Brits have when they don't want to speak their displeasure. I learned it from lotus flower since he flashes me that all the time. "Want a picture, ma'am?" I ask and she gasps in pure horror, then turns back to her kid, who's smiling at me. I wink and he giggles. Kids and animals like me. Adults do not. I'd rather be adored by innocent beings instead of evil snakes. I like things simple, not twisty and complicated. And yet here you are for the most complicated man ever. "Who's the he you came to watch?" Jeremy asks, but I'm tuning him out because my whole attention is stolen by the fucking bimbo who's slipping in a few rows below with two other girls. Fucking Clara. Exactly what I've been missing. She poses for a few selfies and makes her friends take an album's worth of pictures. I force myself to ignore her-or try to-as I spot lotus flower walking with his teammates to the midfield. Well, fuck me. I've always seen him in shorts and T-shirts, but it's different in the royal-blue lacrosse uniform, a bit tighter, maybe. Those shorts are definitely framing his ass better than the running ones. Not that I'm staring or anything. Okay, I totally fucking am. His hair is styled in his signature Prince Charming look-the sides short and the longer strands on top slicked back, making his face appear sharp. He looks serious, more so than usual, as he shoves the helmet over his head and gets to the middle with a member of the orange team. The referee throws the ball down and lotus flower fights over it with his long-netted stick. That's some weird shit down there... On second thought, I'm not complaining about the way he's bent over, ass on display. Maybe lacrosse isn't so bad, after all. The crowd cheers when he gets the ball for his team. Or as much as preppy people will. Since I used to play football, and still do at times, this is like a Mary Sue sport in comparison. Though they do get physical. Hmm. So he does like some roughness in his life. My cock twitches at the memory of his groans when I squeezed him with a firm grip. How he thrust against my cock at a maddening pace, trying to match my rhythm. I have to shake those thoughts away so I don't get a hard-on and effectively get kicked out by the bunch of prudes. My attention zeroes back on Bran, who seems to be doing well. He runs a lot from the attack to the defense, and he retrieves a lot of balls for his team. The crowd is buzzing when they score. Got to say it's not too bad. There's obviously adrenaline going on. Number ten, the one and only lotus flower, gets stifling attention from the other team's defenders, who try to block him with every move. One of them pushes him and he falls as the referee announces a foul. I jump to my feet. "Fuck that guy! Suck my dick." "Niko!" Jeremy clutches my arm and tries to shove me down. That's when I realize most of the people surrounding us are watching me as if I'm the personification of Lucifer himself. A lot of pearl-clutching happens, too. I roll my eyes and sit down. Jeremy, who doesn't give a fuck about anyone, seems like he wants to apologize to our company or something equally crazy. Bran doesn't seem hurt. He recovers in a few seconds and resumes running all over the field. My eyes track his every movement as I sit with my elbows on my knees and my hands forming a steeple at my chin. He's just so elegant. So fucking beautiful. The definition of second-best male beauty. The first is me. "Isn't that Landon King's twin brother?" Jeremy asks. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Might want to go back to sleep," I say, still watching Bran. "The one you wanted to join the Heathens?" "It was a good idea." "More like the worst. Is there a reason why we're watching him?" "Because he's Landon's brother. Need to keep an eye on the enemy or some shit." "You don't look at him like he's an enemy." I'm going to hate-fuck him so that's considered on the list. "Shush, Jer. You're like an annoying buzzing bee that won't go away." "Jeez, thanks." "Anytime, we're bros." I don't hear what Jer says, because Bran recovers the ball from the defense, runs to the attack, erasing a few players in his path, and then passes the ball to the one who scores. "Yes! Get those fucking bitches," I cheer, laughing and ignoring the lady in front of me, who's covering her son's ears. My smile disappears when Clara jumps and screams, "That's my man! So proud of you, babe!" My fingers wrap around the edges of the chair so tightly, I hear a cracking sound. He's not your man.