The Girl Next Door
The Boy Next Door Chapter 41

We each grab two or three containers and follow Jenna into the two-story dining room off the kitchen. When all of the dishes have been set out on the table, we take our seats. The table is black and stretches thirty feet in length. There is enough seating for twenty people. Since it's just the four of us, ivory and cerulean-colored China plates have been set at one end. Warren takes his place at the head of the table, Jenna on one side, as Colton and I settle opposite of her. Everything is family style, and we all dig in, helping ourselves. Warren and Jenna pepper me with surface level questions throughout the meal. They tease Colton every chance they get. They talk about the upcoming game next weekend and how they're looking forward to cheering him on. If I weren't watching Colton so closely, I wouldn't have noticed the barely perceptible tightening of his jaw. I can't help but wonder what that's about. Jenna turns to me. "Hopefully, we'll see you there."

Admittedly, I've avoided attending football games this season. I've been trying to break free from the hold Colton has over me and sitting in the stands for three hours, watching him out on the field, certainly won't help with that. "Maybe," I say lightly.

"You know," Colton clears his throat, "if you guys are too busy, you don't have to attend. it's cool."

Jenna's brows beetle together as she scoffs, "We haven't been able to attend any this season." She glances at her husband. "We've missed watching you play. Now that your father isn't traveling so much, we'll be able to make the rest of your home games." Dread flickers across his expression but it's there and gone before I can question whether it was ever there in the first place. Even though I get the feeling Colton wants to argue, he jerks his head into a tight nod.

As the conversation turns to other topics, I continue to feel thick waves of tension radiating off Colton. I can't help but wonder what's going on with him. Does this have something to do with me? Or football? Since I returned from my study abroad program, I've tried so hard to keep my distance from Colton. If people are talking about him or Wildcat football, I promptly tune them out. Only now do I wonder if there's a problem.

I don't realize that I've reached under the table until my fingers wrap around his hand and he turns his head, gaze locking on mine. As much as I don't want to feel the connection strengthen between us, that's exactly what happens. I'm powerless to stop it from happening. And maybe there's a part that doesn't want to stop it.

After dinner, I help clear the table and wash the delicate dishes. Jenna chats about her job as an elementary school teacher and the upcoming trip they have planned after Christmas.

"So, you and Colton? She watches me from beneath a thick fringe of lashes before picking up a plate and drying it. "You've known each other for a long time?"

It's a question...but then again, not really.

"Yes." I'm not sure exactly what to say or how much. That's for Colton to do. I don't want to lead her in the wrong direction. Or myself, for that matter. Although I wonder if it's already too late for that.

She nods. "Colton doesn't bring many people home. In fact," she falls silent for a moment, almost as if she's searching her brain, "he's never brought anyone home from college."

That doesn't surprise me. Even though Colton has a lot of friends and girls buzz around him like drunken bees, it's all surface level acquaintances.

When I remain silent, she continues, "He doesn't allow a lot of people in." Her lips quirk at the corners. "You must be special."

I shake my head, unwilling to let that little seed get planted in my psyche. "We're just friends."

"Hmm. That's too bad. I think you would be perfect for him."

Once upon a time, I thought the same thing. Now? I have no idea.

As I finish with the last dish, a deep voice clears their throat. I nearly bobble the plate before setting it carefully on the drying rack as my gaze slams into Colton's dark ones. His arms are crossed over his chest as he leans casually against the doorframe. "Do you mind if I steal Alyssa away?"

Jenna picks up the last dish from the wood rack. "Of course. We'll have dessert in about thirty minutes. Sound good?"

"Yup." When he holds out his hand for me to take for a second time this evening, I don't bother trying to fight it. I gravitate across the kitchen before placing my fingers in his. A spark of energy tingles through my fingertips.

With a gentle tug, he pulls me through the gallery and foyer before we take the staircase to the second floor.

My mind buzzes on sensation overload. Everything that's taken place in the last couple of hours, the emotions he stirs so effortlessly inside me. At the top of the staircase, I'm given a bird's eye view of the entryway. "Your house is beautiful." "Thanks. My dad built it after he and Jenna got married."

"How long have they been together?"

His brow furrows for a moment. "When I was eight years old. So they've been together for fourteen years. The trip they're taking at Christmas is to celebrate their fifteenth anniversary."

Our shoes click against the glossy hardwood that stretches throughout the hallway. Family photographs dot the walls. I'm tempted to stop and study them, but don't. This is the first time in more than a decade that I feel like I've cracked beneath the surface of Colton Montgomery and are catches glimpses of the man he truly is. I'm loath to push too hard or do something that will shut him down.

He pushed open the last door on the left and I realize with a glance that this must be his bedroom. The walls are painted navy and there is a king-sized bed dominating the space. There's a sleek dresser and desk that matches the dark wood of the bed frame. A small sofa is on the opposite side of the space with a chair making an intimate place to sit and talk. Next to the sitting area is a wall of built-in cabinetry that matches the kitchen. A mini fridge is tucked beneath the counter and a fancy stainless steel coffee marker sits on the marble countertop. Across the room are two doors. I imagine one is a walk-in closet and the other is a private bathroom. It's like a tiny apartment. The walls are dotted with football memorabilia and more photographs. If Colton weren't standing next to me, watching my every move, I'd walk around the space and study it all. It's like a peek behind the curtain.

Unsure what to do, I separate myself from him and settle on the couch. Instead of following me, he meanders to the desk before leaning against it. Energy crackles in the air between us.

I shift on the couch, aware that his gaze is fastened on me. "I like your parents."

"They like you, as well." There's a pause as remorse flashes across his expression. "I should have introduced you sooner."

When I shrug, unwilling to dwell on the past, he pushes away from the desk, closing the distance between us before settles next to me on the sofa. He turns toward me, his arm stretching across the back of the cushion. His proximity has the tempo of my heart picking up speed. When I remain still, his fingers strum the slope of my shoulder. Even though I'm wearing a light sweater, I feel the caress down to my toes. The heat of his fingers somehow burn into my flesh and tingles erupt inside me before careening down my spine. No matter what has happened between us, I can't imagine a time when my body won't react to him in this manner. I might not want it to, but that doesn't seem to matter. It's not something I can control.

#