Into You Series: The Complete Collection

25. Ian

CHAPTER 25

IAN

Present day

I can still taste her the following morning, and I need more.

I promised Nia this wouldn’t be leaked to anyone, and I will keep that promise as long as it means last night was not a dream.

The entire group meets for brunch, and I try my best to make eye contact with Nia.

Half of the attendees are clutching their heads while all the women fork food into their mouths.

“So, Ian, who are the strays?” Ramona asks, lifting an eyebrow.

I dart my eyes to Nia’s. Are they a deeper brown than usual? Is she looking at me with desire, or is she back to being pissed at me for every move I make? I don’t know if she’s ready to reveal that her crazy brother drove down here in a rage, or that her actually sane younger brother is hungover from the festivities. I wait a second to see if she’ll respond, and as I’m opening my mouth to speak, she beats me to the punch.

“This is Harry and Grant. They’re my brothers from out of town.”

Utensils pause, some stopping mid-scrape on the china. I wonder if anyone will say anything at all.

“Oh, dude, I didn’t know that!” Wes finally breaks the silence to raise his hand. Harry completes the high five and they go back to eating as if nothing happened.

I can tell Nia is nervous. Of course she is. This isn’t her wedding week, and these aren’t Grace’s friends. But, Grace throws up a hand for a high five as well, and no other words are exchanged on the subject.

“So, bachelorette party tonight, huh? Going crazy?” Wes asks, nudging Ray.

“Got strippers?” Cam chuckles, shoveling eggs into his mouth.

“Probably.” Grace winks. “But only because you guys did.”

We all exchange quick glances—which seem to go unnoticed by most of the women—and return to our plates. Let them think we’re tough, manly men. They don’t need to know we hung out at the pier and actually had decent conversation. Yes sir, we surely did experience lots of boobs and ass.

Well, at least I did.

I can’t stand the idea of Nia around strippers. What do the performers even do at female-focused strip clubs? Spin their penises around in patrons’ faces? I almost lose my appetite, but the scent of bacon wafting into my nose tempts me back to it. I’m still not happy about it, though.

“Do you think they’ll wear banana hammocks?” Cameron asks, waving his fork. “Bright yellow? Hairy men with gold chains?”

“Ew, gross.” Ramona scrunches her nose and glances to Corinne, who shrugs with a laugh.

“Could be a good time,” she comments.

“Nia, are you pumped about strippers?” I ask. Her eyes meet mine and narrow in response. It’s the same old glance I’m accustomed to, except now I feel a current between us as if we’re connected by an invisible wire, humming with electricity. “What do you go for? Firefighters? Mailmen? Lawyers?”

“Shut up,” she shoots back. Ramona is already holding her hands up in protest, but I don’t feel hate brimming from Nia. I see how she shifts in her chair. She’s trying her best to hide it, but I know my words have set her off. I bite down on my fork, grinning. I wonder if she’s wet beneath that skirt.

“It is two days before the wedding,” Ramona says. “I am not having your silly bickering ruining these wonderful, beautiful people’s party.” Her index finger points back and forth between the two of us, but when our eyes meet once more and the corner of my mouth lifts in a smirk, Nia shakes her head and goes back to her food.

Grace lets out a small giggle, and Ramona exhales.

“Well at least the bride finds it funny now.”