Finn

WHILE SUTTON IS BUSY LINING UP RED SOLO cups on the massive island in the kitchen, then filling each cup about fourth of the way with beer, I'm preoccupied with staring at Rylie's ass. She dressed appropriately for the weather today: pants instead of a dress. But not just any pants. The tightest pair of jeans that you ever did see, molded to her body like the denim is painted on.

If I'm a fan of Rylie's legs in those short dresses she prefers, I'm downright feral for her ass in jeans. It's just begging to get grabbed. By me. Or maybe I'm the one begging to grab it.

Yep, that sounds more accurate.

"Who's ready for Flip Cup?" Sutton yells with her hands cupping her mouth. "One person will have to sit out, and we can rotate each round."

I follow Rylie's ass to the kitchen, literally: I watch it with every step I take. Which is why I trip over a box and end up crashing into her, my arms quickly wrapping around her waist to steady us both before we fall to the ground.

"Whoa, Wy, your ass just about killed us," I say into her ear, the wild mane of red hair tickling my nose. I spin her around to face me as my hand wanders down to finally cup her rear. "Jesus, thank you."

Rylie giggles, and this is how I know her alcohol intake is higher than usual: Rylie isn't really a giggler. "Watch it, man-child. I never gave you permission to touch me like that."

My other hand joins the party, squeezing her other cheek. "You forget, I've cupped this ass before. Bare ass naked. And that's something I will never, ever forget. Until the day I die, I will remember cupping your bare ass cheek."

I unleash the dimples and her cheeks pinken, the patch of freckles over her cheeks darkening in contrast. I finger them in awe, "You have the prettiest freckles, Wyatt. I especially love them in the summer when they blow the fuck up all over this pretty little face."

She pokes her fingers into the divots from my dimples. "Your damn dimples annoy the shit out of me. You have no business flashing them all willy nilly like you do. You really should apologize for abusing them the way you do."

"No fucking way." With my grip still on her butt, I tug her closer to me, our bodies nearly flush. Mere centimeters separate us. "I need to use everything in my armory with you, Rylie. Every. Single. Fucking. Thing. You're way out of my league."

She boops my nose. "Duh." And then she unfastens my hands from her ass and picks a spot at the island. I follow, of course, standing next to her with a plastic cup in front of me. Teddy, Jensen and Archie join our side, while Sutton, Kelly, Charlie, JJ and Sully are on the opposite team, leaving Vivi out this round.

Vivi stands at one end and calls out, "Ready, set, go!"

Sutton and I face off as we guzzle the beer in our cups. I'm seconds quicker than my sister and immediately set to work flipping the cup. Sutton beats me, flipping her cup upside down, signaling Kelly to start his turn. We go down like this until it's Archie against Sully, and Sully wins it easily. The team opposite us erupts into cheers while I scowl at them like the poor loser I am.

"Rematch!" I yell, resetting the cups. Sutton fills more beer in the cups, and Vivi substitutes in for Archie. My team ends up winning that round, and we go again and again and again, until we've lost count on team wins and losses and we're all very, very happy.

We all wander into the living room, still a moving battle zone with stacks of boxes and furniture haphazardly set down anywhere. After situating the couch and armchairs so that they're facing each other, we settle into spots. Kelly sits in a chair with Sutton draped over him. I take the other chair, pulling Rylie into my lap, soaking up the opportunity to run my hand up and down her outer thigh and then resting over her ass. Archie and Vivi take opposite ends of the couch with JJ squished between them in the middle. Charlie perches on a stack of boxes and Sully stands with his back against the wall. Jensen sits on the floor with Teddy between his legs.

Although we have a long-standing date to meet at Roxy's for drinks every Friday, it's rare that we're all together like this in a quiet environment. There's only a half an hour until the countdown to midnight, and we're all looking like we're at the tail end of our night. People are stifling yawns and tucking themselves into their partners. I'm content focusing my attention on the girl in my lap, but Sutton breaks the quiet by pointing her finger between the two book ends on the couch.

"When are you two going to squash your beef?" she asks, and Vivi tenses, glaring at our sister. I know that look. Viv is a livewire, set to detonate at the slightest provocation.

"Shit," I whisper into Rylie's fiery hair. "Where's the popcorn?"

"I know, we're owed popcorn. It's only proper drama-bomb etiquette," Rylie agrees, grinning at me, the skin on her nose wrinkling, causing the freckles to squish together. I smooth them out with my pointer finger, suddenly way more interested in the girl on my lap again. It's hard to focus on anything else when she's this close, smelling so good, feeling so good, looking so damn good.

"I've got no beef," Archie says, holding up his hands. His ginger complexion easily betrays him, his face heating. "I'd love nothing more than Vivian and I to move past whatever rivalry there was or wasn't in high school."

"Was or wasn't?" Vivi slides forward on the couch to see the redhead around JJ, who is looking from one to the other like she's watching a tennis match. She also could use some popcorn, and I laugh when I see Rylie miming eating popcorn out of a bowl and JJ mimicking it back to her. "Oh, there definitely was," Vivi continues, her ears turning red. Yep, abort. It's time to abort. Red ears equal danger.

All the Anderson siblings glance around the room at each other, our eyes wide with anticipation. You don't survive childhood living with Vivi without being on the receiving end of one of her tempers. No one is immune.

Then Archie makes his fatal error. He smirks. The poor doofus smirks! Shit, maybe he's never been on the receiving end of one of Viv's tempers? Nah, never mind, the dude is provoking her. Wait, if I'm seeing what I'm seeing, then I'm pretty sure the ginger might like Angry Vivi.

"What was the rivalry exactly?" the other redhead in my lap questions, like the real shit stirrer she is. It could be passed off as an innocent question since Rylie didn't go to school with us, but the sheer giddiness of her demeanor gives her away. She's eating up this popcorn-worthy moment.

Archie waves the question away, sitting back against the couch cushion like he's not bothered in the least. Vivi darts out further, her body bent over at the waist to be able to see him. "Archie here always had to one up me. Always be better than me. Valedictorian," she says, pointing at him. "Salutatorian." She points to herself. "Just one example for you."

Archie smiles—again, it has to be assumed at this point that the dude is intentional in his reckless behavior—and brings his leg up to where his ankle rests against the opposite knee. The ultimate look of indifference. "Just how it worked itself out. I must have done slightly better in my classes, that's all."

"Shit," I whisper again into Rylie's hair, nuzzling my face enough to move her hair out of the way so I have access to the skin on her neck. When my scruffy face makes contact with her soft skin, she screeches and tries to jump out of my grasp, but I tighten my arms around her, continuing to assault her with my fuzzy face.

"Finnegan!" she screams, swatting at my arms. "Stop it with that scratchy shit! You need to shave your stupid face already!"

"No way!" I chuckle into her neck. "I think I'm going to grow it out."

She manages to pry my face off her neck and wrangle enough out of my arms to hold me away at arm's length. "Yes way! I hate it. It's the worst."

I grin, detonating the dimples. Riling her up has just become my new favorite hobby.

"Rylie is right," Sutton says from her seat on Kelly's lap. Her head is tucked under his chin, her legs hanging over the side of the chair. "You can't grow facial hair. It always looks all weird and patchy."

Charlie rubs his own stubble. "That's not true. We grew that impressive beard a few years back. Remember, Finn? It was solid."

"Fuck yeah it was. It could have won awards."

"False," JJ pipes in. "You both looked ridiculous. And it was even harder to tell you two goons apart. You kept up that stupid charade for a month straight pretending to be the other twin. Pretty sure we all celebrated the minute you finally shaved."

I laugh at the memory, and I air high five Charlie. It's times like these that remind me I do actually enjoy my twin's company. We somehow get each other's humor when most people don't always enjoy our brand of goofy.

"Fine," I acquiesce. "I'll just grow a stache then. I could probably pull off a handlebar stache, don't you think?" I mime playing with the long ends of a curly que mustache.

"Uh, no," Rylie pipes in immediately. "That would look even more ridiculous. Just shave the whole thing." She circles her pointer finger around my face and I try to bite it.

"A mustache wouldn't look any better, Finn," Vivi says. "Just face it. Some people just can't pull off facial hair, and you are one of them."

Jensen groans his annoyance with the conversation, and he pulls Teddy to her feet alongside him. "This conversation is stupid. It's almost time for the countdown anyway so let's get ready to count it down so I can take my girl home."

I dump Rylie from my lap, slapping her ass as I rise to my feet next to her. "Like you could grow a better mustache, J?"

He snorts. "Anyone could grow a better one than you. Except maybe Charlie, but that poor fucker has identical genes to you so he's screwed."

"Kelly?" I point at my brother's best friend. He shifts Sutton to her feet and he joins her, raising his brow at me.

"Are you challenging me, Finn?"

"I wasn't before, but now I think I might be. Thank you for the idea." I turn to scan the rest of the guys in the room. I point at each one individually. "I challenge you and you and you and you and you. Let's see who can grow the best mustache. We'll need a judge."

All the girls' hands fly into the air at the same time. I grin at Rylie, whose hand is waving back and forth like a kid in third grade who knows the answer and desperately wants to scream it out. "Wy," I say with a smirk. "I thought you said a stache was a stupid idea? Now you want to be a judge?"

"Uh, yeah. Before it was just you being stupid by yourself. Now you're all being stupid together and I am not missing this." Her face is lit with amusement. "Now pick me. Please."

"Just let all of them be judges. But they have to be impartial. They can't just pick who they're fucking," Sully says, pushing himself off the wall to join the group huddle in the middle of Kelly and Sutton's new house, box towers surrounding us like walls.

"So we're doing this?" I ask, a wave of excitement buzzing through me. Or that might be the alcohol. We did play a lot of rounds of Flip Cup. The other guys may regret their decision come morning, but this is right up my alley, and I will be holding them accountable.

"Ok, there needs to be rules," Vivi says, always the logical one. "You all shave at the same exact time so it's level playing field. We have weekly check-ins at Roxy's. If you are a no-show for the check-in," she says, directing her words at Sully, who rarely shows up on Fridays, "then you forfeit your place in the challenge. How long should we run it? At least a month, I think."

"Until our birthday," Charlie pipes up, absently petting his upper lip as if envisioning a hearty and healthy mustache. "That's roughly five weeks away."

We all agree to the terms, when Rylie tacks on, "And no full beards. Just mustaches. If you're going to be ridiculous, you might as well go full on ridiculous."

We all gather in a circle, putting our hands in the center and then count to three, throwing our hands up and yelling all different things.

"To the stache!" That was me.

"Go Kelly!" That was Sutton.

"Team Jensen!" That was Teddy.

"Fucking losers!" That was JJ.

"Fucking hell!" That was Sully.

The rest were undecipherable and some groans (definitely Jensen).

"Oh shit, shit, shit," Sutton cusses, looking at the time on her phone. "Countdown is now! 10, 9, 8..."

We all break apart as the countdown continues, and I grab Rylie, pulling her into my arms. I know she won't let me kiss her at midnight, the fear is clear in her eyes, but I still want to be the first to wish her a happy new year.

As soon as everyone is hollering—some kissing—I cup my hand around Rylie's chin, my thumb pressed against her mouth, her full lips pouting under my finger. "Happy New Year, Wyatt," I whisper, ducking my head to dust my lips over my thumb with a feather-light touch, our lips only touching for the briefest of seconds. Here and then gone. Her breath hitches, and I smooth my thumb over her bottom lip twice before removing it completely.

Just then Rylie is stolen from my arms as Teddy reels her in for a hug. I watch as she's passed around the group only happy once she finds her way back to me. I intertwine our fingers as we stand side by side, surveying our family and friends. I bump her shoulder. "Ready to go home, Wy? Sleepover time?"

She looks up at me, her eyes a bit unfocused from the alcohol. Before she can answer, though, Sutton announces that she's ordered Ubers for everyone.

I ignore the chaos of people finding their coats and shoes, and I place my thumb over Rylie's lips again, silently kissing her the only way she'll allow. "Come on," I say, pulling her into action. It's sleepover time after all.

Forty-five minutes later we're tucked under the girly covers in Rylie's room, my hand snaked under the shirt of mine she's borrowed yet again, resting against the cold skin of her stomach. My front is pressed firmly against her back with our legs tangled up. I bury my face in her neck, inhaling that amber musk smell, and I sigh. She shivers in my arms, and I circle my body tighter around her.

"Hey, Wy," I whisper in her hair.

"Yeah, Finn?" Her voice is raspy, her body limp as a rag doll, already on the edge of sleep.

"I think you should know something."

"What's that?"

"I think you're pretty. So fucking pretty."

"I think you're pretty cute, too, Finnegan," she says through a yawn.

"Is that Rylie-speak for you think I'm hot? Because that's how I'm taking it."

When she doesn't respond, I squeeze my arms even tighter around her, and plant soft kisses on her neck. "Night, Wy. Happy New Year."