"Then who was it?" Jake asks.
"Guys," Nash says. "Talk about it later."
"Thanks for doing this," I tell them. "I'm sure this is the last thing you wanted to do on your weekend."
"We don't mind," Jake says. "Besides, Nash is picking up the tab for the bar tonight."
"You're going out?" I ask Nash.
"Yeah. And you're coming with." He puts his arm around my waist.
"I can't go. I have stuff to do."
"You have to go," Jake says. "We want to get to know the girl Nash has been talking about all week."
"You were talking about me?" I ask him.
"He didn't tell us much," Jake says. "That's why we need you to go out with us tonight. I found a bar over on Skylar Avenue that looks decent. You ever been there?"
"No, but I've heard it's the place everyone goes."
I only know that because I overhead Katie talking about going there that day she made Lou stay late to make her brownies.
"Let's eat," Nash says. "I'm starving." He keeps his hand on my lower back as we walk over to a foldout table he set up on my lawn. There are only four chairs so Austin takes a seat on the big red cooler that's next to the table.
"I can sit there," I tell him. "You can have my chair."
"He's fine," Nash says as he picks up a gallon jug of orange juice and starts filling plastic cups.
"Are you sure?" I ask Austin. "Because I don't mind sitting there."
"I'm good," he says, taking one of the orange juice cups. "I'm not high maintenance like my brothers." He smiles at them.
"Yeah, wanting to sleep on a bed instead of a park bench is high maintenance," Jake says.
"You sleep on park benches?" I ask Austin.
"Just once. I was on the road with the band and we couldn't find a hotel for the night so we slept in the park."
"You better never do it again," Nash says, handing him a sandwich. "You could've been killed."
"In small town Illinois? I don't think so."
"Crime can happen anywhere," Nash says.
So he's not just protective of me. He's also protective of his brothers. I was the same way with Ben. When my mom said some kid at his daycare kept hitting him, I wanted to go beat the kid up. Obviously I'd never do that, but I wanted to.
Nash bought thirteen breakfast sandwiches and a bucket of fried potato rounds. No joke. It's an actual bucket. He must've got it at the burger place just down from the gas station. I heard they started serving breakfast a few weeks ago.
"Go ahead." Jake points to the bucket.
I take a few potato rounds and set them next to my egg sandwich.
"That's it?" Jake asks.
"She doesn't eat much," Nash says, biting into his sandwich.
"Last chance," he says, holding the bucket up to me.
"I'm good."
He takes the bucket back and shakes out a big pile of potato rounds for himself. Then he sets the bucket back on the table. "Have at it, boys."
Nash shakes some out on his napkin, taking even more than Jake did. Then the other guys divvy up what's left. In addition to the pile of potatoes, they each have three sandwiches and have already eaten two of them while I've just started mine.
"How much did your parents spend on groceries?" I ask as I watch them eat.
"A lot," Bryce says, laughing. "Our mom always had to bring a couple of us along to grocery shop because she'd fill up three carts. And that was just for one week of groceries."
As Bryce talks, my eyes keep going to his tattoos. They start below his ear and snake down his neck and over his chest, then continue down each forearm. They're all black ink, no color, and they just look like designs, not words or pictures or anything else recognizable.
"Did you design your tattoos?" I ask him.
"His girlfriend did," Jake answers, squeezing a ketchup packet over his potato rounds.
"Stop calling her that." Bryce shoves Jake's shoulder, causing the ketchup to squirt onto the table. "She's not my girlfriend. She's dating someone else."
"Yeah, some prick she doesn't even like, who she's only dating because the guy she really wants is too stupid to tell her he's in love with her." Jake grabs another ketchup packet.
"I'm not in love with her," Bryce says, stuffing some potatoes in his mouth.
"Yeah, that's why you inked her designs all over your body," Austin says, getting up to grab the orange juice jug. He sets his cup next to mine on the table and refills it. His arms are huge. I glance at his brothers. They all have huge muscular arms. And six pack abs, although Austin has an eight pack. You can tell he works out all the time because his muscles are more ripped than his brothers'. I'm guessing the rest of them get their muscles from physical labor, not lifting weights at the gym.
"Want some more?" Austin asks, holding the orange juice over my cup.
"No, thanks."
He sets the jug down and sits back on the cooler.
"Have you talked to Jen lately?" Nash asks Bryce.