The Brentwood Boys by Meghan Quinn

Author:Meghan Quinn [Quinn, Meghan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-06T04:00:00+00:00

“Milly, what the fuck?”

“What?” she asks, whispering back.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

We’re sitting at the table, as her family’s still parking their car, and Milly is sitting next to me looking fine as fuck in a yellow sundress I’ve never seen before. The sleeves are capped, showing off her toned arms, and the neckline scoops just low enough for me to catch some cleavage. And did I mention the dress is hugging every last inch of her body?

She takes in her outfit and says, “It’s a dress.”

“I’m aware, but why are you wearing it?”

“Jerry helped me pick it out. You should have seen him at the department store. Kept telling everyone he was my Jerry godmother, getting me ready for my debut—I think that’s how he put it.”

“Jerry,” I mutter. “Is he trying to embarrass me in front of your family?”

Her eyes widen and she leans in even closer, her hand on my thigh. That’s not helping. “Oh my God, are you getting turned on?”

“Uh . . . yeah. My girlfriend, who I’m crazy about, showed up for graduation in a dress that’s barely containing her perfect body and decided to reveal it right before we have to eat a meal with her family.”

“Ah, you’ll survive.” She pats my cheek, her compassion at about a level two—not really giving a fuck whatsoever.

“You’re a temptress, you hear me? An evil fucking temptress.”

“Oh, is that how you really feel about me? Does that mean I’m going back to my dorm alone tonight? Such a shame, I had a new bra I wanted to show you.” She winks and then casually takes a sip of her water.

I lean over and whisper harshly into her ear, “I don’t know what you’ve done with my shy and blushing girlfriend, but if you can return her, that would be great.” And I sure as hell hope Jerry didn’t help her pick out her new underwear.

She laughs and doesn’t show one ounce of care for how incredibly turned on I am simply from the sight of her. I’m about to reprimand her again, let her know how difficult she’s making things for me, when her family walks up to the table and takes a seat. Sean and Rian sit at the end, her parents sit on the corner, and Cory sits directly in front of us.

Seriously . . . Cory Potter is about to share a pizza with me. The guys at the loft are going to shit themselves and yeah, I had zero chill and asked for a picture with the guy in front of the Brentwood dugout. He put his arm around me and he smelled like fresh spring. I wanted to stuff my head in his armpit, live there for years, and breathe in his scent, his manliness, and his talent.

Guy crush? Possibly, and I’m not even sorry about it. It’s Cory Fucking Potter. The dude just sticks his bat out over the plate and hits a home run.

“Get whatever you want, it’s on me,” Cory announces, as Sean and Rian both start surveying the pitchers of beers.

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