by S. E. Hall
“I’m gonna throw her in here, then you stand in front of her door while I walk around. When I’m in, I’ll lock the doors, with yours open, then you hop in and gas it. Got it?” Sadly, I know Laney, and it is completely necessary to have a covert op planned out if we don’t want to chase her down again.
“All over it,” he salutes me.
“Hear that, baby? We got it all figured out, so no escape attempts.”
She grumbles something under her breath as I toss her in the back and slam the door, running hastily around to the passenger seat.
“Okay, Sawyer, go!” I yell, turning to look at Laney pouting in the backseat with her arms crossed at her chest, a scowl on her face and her eyes purposely looking anywhere but at me.
Stone silence fills the car as we make our way down the street. At the first stoplight, Sawyer plugs his phone into the radio. I’m grateful for the upcoming distraction, but only for a split second, when I see him adjust the rearview mirror with a smirk. Whatever he has planned, he wants to be able to see Laney’s reaction—God help us. Seriously, being with the two of them together is like a bad Heckle & Jeckle cartoon. But right at the moment the music starts, he’s reeled me in. I slap my leg and bust out laughing. “Mama Said Knock You Out” blares through the speakers, and when I shift to look at how pissed Laney is, she’s air-punching, singing every word with a beautiful smile.
Leave it to Sawyer.
BALLS OF STEEL
Laney: Don’t say no right away. The Crew is hanging out tonight at Dane’s house. I know it’s weird, but Sawyer and Zach, your friends, will be there so we’d all love 2 have u. Please.
Where do I start? There are so many things wrong with this, I don’t even know where to start. If somehow Laney took my civility in Algebra to mean “may I please hang out with you and your boyfriend at his house?”, then I really need to work on my delivery.
“What’s wrong?” Whitley sits across from me, peeling away most of the bread from her sandwich.
I eat lunch with her almost every day, and except for the whole picking her food apart thing, she’s great company. My favorite thing about her? She’s always humming. She doesn’t even know she’s doing it, she’s completely lost to the music in her head. I find it especially precious that the song she chooses always fits the mood or scene too—it’s like she’s scoring the soundtrack of our day moment by moment. One day we were walking together after class and a downpour came out of nowhere, soaking us to the bone. Whitley hummed “Umbrella” by Rihanna the whole time we were running to the car. I didn’t comment on it out loud, mostly because I was busy running for cover, dragging her behind me, but I laughed inwardly at how cute it was.
“Evan? Hello?”
“Sorry.” I shake my head and grin at her. “What’d you say?”
“I asked what was wrong. That text you got obviously didn’t make you happy. Your face looked like you smelt a skunk.”
Whitley’s a very down-to-earth girl once you look past the fancy, never-chipped manicure and the bread picking, and a straight shooter. I’m more than used to that and like it, so I go ahead and hand her my phone. We’ll see what she thinks, since I’m having trouble wrapping my brain around it.
“Hmm.” She chews her lip and takes her time looking up from the phone at me.
Now I may not be the most perceptive guy on the planet. I’ll never be able to name the artist when you show me a painting, I don’t see meaning in brushstrokes and colors, and chances are I’ll never be able to distinguish between all the different shades of pink, which Whitley swears are legitimate, distinct colors, but I damn well know one thing when I see it—piss and vinegar. And the girl sitting across from me is giving me a look right now that’s full of just that.
She smirks and licks her lips. “We should go.” Told ya. Piss and vinegar.
“Why in God’s name would we do that, Whitley? I don’t exactly care for Dane and he hates me. Laney hates you, you hate her. Last time you two were together, she tackled you three times! Flag football is NOT a contact sport! So let’s all hang out together on purpose? Why do I even need to explain what a bad idea that is?”
“I don’t hate anyone and neither do you. And I know Dane; he doesn’t hate you at all. I think we should go and see what happens. If you want to leave, we’ll leave. But I think we should at least try, show we can handle it.” She runs one finger in a circle around the rim of her drink. “Unless you don’t want to be seen with me…”
I laugh out loud, knowing exactly what she’s doing. “Nice try, woman. You really think that’s gonna work?”
She peers up at me, blue eyes shining and treats me to a slow grin. “Did it?”
“Yeah, it worked,” I grin, but in defeat, “we’ll go.” Game. Set. Match.
“Wonderful!” she squeals, jumping up and coming around to hug me. “I’m proud of you,” she says, running her fingers in the front of my hair and pushing it back off my forehead where she lays a soft kiss, “playing all nice.”
“Uh huh,” I mutter, leaning over to pluck the orange flower that just caught my eye. “Here you go, troublemaker.”
The last time I was at this door, I got handed my heart—mangled, battered, and broken. This time, I’m carrying a bottle of wine and dressed all fancy-like because the little pixie with her hand laced through the crook of my arm said to.
She put me in khaki pants and a light blue button down shirt, tucked in of course, and some brown churchy shoes that she’d run out and bought for me. The pants are stiff, the collar on this fucking shirt is seriously inhibiting my breathing, and the shoes look like I ought to be walking up to the front of the pulpit to get baptized. I look like a fucking idiot until I stand next to her in her gray pants and light pink sweater, perfect blond hair straight down her back and pulled from her face in a ribbon. When I stand next to her, I look like the other half of the picture she wants to paint.
I’m already in a mood and the outfit isn’t helping, but when Dane opens the door, dressed how he wants to be and Laney is behind him, comfortable in yoga pants and a jersey, I feel like a whole different kind of ass.
“Hey, guys, thanks for coming. Come on in,” Dane politely greets us and steps back for us to enter.
Laney moves with him, and because I know her like my own skin, I know exactly what she’s doing. Right now she’s deciding if she’s pissed that I brought Whitley without asking her or if she wants to bust a gut laughing at my clothes.
The latter is the obvious right decision, but I’m relieved she restrains herself.
“Thanks for having us,” Whitley responds cheerily, taking the wine from me. “We brought you this.” This she says to Laney, handing her the bottle with a sincere smile.
My ugly mood tapers a notch because that was a classy move. “Th-Thank you,” Laney manages to say in a shocked stutter.
“That was sweet, Whitley. Would you, um, like to come with me and we can try a glass?”
“Yes, please.” She lifts her face to me and pats my chest. “I’ll be right back, Evan. You want some?”
“Are you gonna be okay?” I lean over and ask quietly in her ear.
She gives me a subtle nod that she is, so I straighten and answer loudly, “how about a beer instead?”
“I’ll grab that for you,” Dane offers, so I part ways with Whitley and awkwardly follow him.
“Hey, there he is!” Sawyer jumps up from the couch as we enter the room and comes over to give me a one armed hug/back slap. “Glad you came, man! Dane never lets us come here, so you picked the right night. This place is killer.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Dane grumbles, returning to us and handing me a beer.
Not that I’m thirsty, or have to drink beer all the time, but I’m gonna chug this bitch because it’s exactly the relaxant I need right now.
The doorbell rings, so Dane excuses himself, leaving Sawyer and I alone. The second he’s gone, Sawyer starts in.
“So you gotta be feeling awkward as fuck ri
ght about now, huh? I’m glad you came, though. Shows me you got some balls. I feel even better about being your friend now,” he says with a laugh. “I see you remembered how to get here okay.”
“Even if I hadn’t,” I down half of my bottle, wanting it to kick in before Dane gets back, “Whitley knows.”
He coughs and bangs his chest. “Whitley? As in, Whitley came with you?”
“Yeah,” I respond casually with a one shoulder shrug, “why?”
“Fucking balls of steel!” He laughs loudly, slapping me on the back again. “Damn, dude. This is gonna be hella fun! Where is she?”
“In the kitchen with Laney.”
It’s the only, and probably the last, time I have ever seen Sawyer Beckett speechless.
“Guys,” Zach says as he walks in, Avery on his arm, “what’s up?
“Hey, Zach.” I shake his hand and turn to Avery. “Avery, nice to see you.”
She smiles. “Hi Evan, how are you liking it here?”
“Not bad, I—” I stop because the look on Zach’s face distracts me. “What is it?” I ask.
“Look at Sawyer. What the hell is he doing?”
I had totally forgotten about him, but follow Zach’s stare to find Sawyer poking his head around the doorway to the kitchen, holding up his phone. I creep up behind him, Zach and Avery following, and tap him on the shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Shhh,” he spits out, turning back around to face us, “I’m filming. Any minute now…”
“Any minute what?” I ask in a hushed voice.
“They’ll go at it, and this time I’ll have it recorded. I’m gonna sell this shit to Girls Gone Wild and be rich. You ever watch those chick fights? High dollar stuff, man.”
I poke him in the forehead a few times, just making sure he’s real, while Zach starts hee-hawing and Avery slaps him on the back of the head.
“Sawyer, you are unbelievable. Come on, Evan,” she grabs my hand and pulls me toward the kitchen, “this is not a good idea. We need to get in there.”
Zach’s done laughing, his eyes wide in realization. “Oh shit, you’re right, babe.” He actually passes us in his hustle to the kitchen.
Sawyer’s gonna be disappointed, cause all we walk in on is an amicable conversation. Whitley’s perched on a barstool, giggling, along with Laney, Dane, and Tate, at something Bennett just said.
“There you are!” She turns and smiles at me when I walk up beside her. “Where you been?”
“Don’t ask,” I mumble, bracing my forearms against the back of her stool to stand behind her.
“Evan, have you met my brother?” Dane asks.
“Not officially,” I say, offering my hand to Tate. “Evan Allen, nice to meet you. Good to see you doing so well.”
“Nice to meet you too,” he says as he shakes my hand. “Thanks for getting my girl there that night.” He wraps his arm around Bennett’s waist, pulling her in to kiss her temple.
“Not a problem.” I give Laney’s pretty redheaded roommate a smile.
“So,” Laney clears her throat, her eyes darting to each person before landing on mine, “what’s everyone feel like doing? And P.S., I’m so glad we did this. I’ve missed you all.” She’s staring at me, her eyes begging me to return the sentiment.
“Oh, I know!” Bennett pipes in exuberantly, which is how I think she says everything. “How about charades?”
Collective groans.
“Well fine, nobody else suggested anything.” She sticks her tongue out at the group. “Strip poker?”
Any guesses who said that?
“No, Sawyer!” Dane, Zach and Tate all yell simultaneously. “You are never seeing our women naked. Ever. Give it up,” Tate finishes.
Whitley very shyly and almost not at all, raises her hand. “Whitley?” Tate points and calls on her with an amused look.
“I saw a lot of people play this game at a party once, and they seemed to be having fun. It’s where you line up and drink your beer then flip your cup over on the table.”
“Flip cup! Hell yeah!” Sawyer whoops and bends across the bar, giving her a high-five. “Atta girl; good plan!”
“Well the DDs can’t play,” Bennett wisely points out, “because that game gets you very drunk.”
Tate gives her a curious look.
“Before I met you, honey,” she assures him with a kiss. “High school.”
“So the first time I let you fools in my house, and you’re gonna flip cups of beer?” Dane’s not kidding, I don’t think. His face is pinched, and surprisingly, I see his point.
“Bro, let’s play downstairs in the rec room. It’s tile.”
Dane nods at Tate’s suggestion. “Bennett’s right, though, no drivers play or you sleep here. Your call,” Dane reaffirms.
“You play, I’ll watch and drive us home,” I say quietly to Whitley.
She turns to me, a conspiring grin. “Or, we can both play and I’ll have the car service pick us up.”
Or that.
“Okay.” I tap the end of her nose. “But why do you have a service? You have a car.”
“I don’t know, ask my father.” She waves me off like a car service is a completely normal part of life.
“Let’s pick teams then,” Laney announces loudly. “Whitley, you captain one since it was your idea. I’ll take the other.”
“Oh, this is gonna be so fun!” Bennett skips to what I’m guessing is the direction of the rec room and most everyone follows.
“You need help carrying beer?” I ask Dane.
“There’s a full fridge down there, but thanks. Come on.” He leads the way.
The doorbell rings again, just as we’re passing the front door ironically enough, so I naturally stop while Dane goes to answer it.
“Hey, Kirb, come on in. You’re late.”
“Sorry, I had stuff to do. Where is everyone?” she asks, glancing around.
“Downstairs, we’re just headed that way.”
“Oh, hey, Evan,” she sees me and gives a finger roll wave, her voice full of creepy seduction.
Never gonna happen. Not enough beer on the planet. This girl gives me the creeps, and with all I’ve seen and heard from Sawyer…no thank you.
“Um, hey.”
“How are you?” She’s now beside me, one hand on my arm.
“Good, you?” I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I actually give Dane a “help me” look and he grins.
“Come on, Kirb, down here.” He puts a hand on her shoulder and encourages her downstairs. I follow, extremely thankful that Sawyer is down there, just waiting like a sitting duck for Kirby’s attention.
“Good, they’re here. Oh, hey, Kirby. You pick first, Whitley.” Laney directs the group from her side of a long table, Solo cups all in a row down each side.
Laney and competition is priceless—her voice rises in volume and pitch, she gets real bossy, and there’s legit fire in her eyes. As long as she doesn’t tackle anyone this time, I fully support the game. I still can’t even believe we’re here right now, all trying to act as civil and non-uncomfortable as possible. I know there’s something to be said about being the “bigger person” and all, but there’s also a saying about whacking a bee’s nest with a big stick. I must be the only one who got that memo.
“Sawyer,” I hear Whitley say, interrupting my internal philosophizing.
WTF? Did she really just not pick me first? “Smart girl.” Sawyer slaps her on the butt. Well at least he’s being nice to her, right?
“Dane,” Laney picks, like she should. Even I, of all people, know that should be her first pick.
“Evan.”
Now she picks me. Everybody knows second place is first loser and I’m not happy. Why is that? I don’t know and don’t care, I just am. I must be talking with my face right now because she’s chewing that bottom lip as I walk over.
“Not too smart, girl.” I slap her on the butt, earning a laugh from Sawyer.
“Uh oh, Whitley. He’s
all butt hurt you picked me first.”
“Are you really?” she asks me, all doe-eyed and innocent.
I lean down and brush her hair back, my lips low over her ear. “You’re in big trouble, little lady.”
I have no idea where that line came from, but her gasp and shiver tell me I needn’t worry that I actually scared her with my playful threat—perhaps there’s more intrigue there than I anticipated. Laney must have been watching our little show, because she immediately and loudly chooses Bennett, and so it goes, back and forth, until we’re ready to play. It’s Whitley, me, Sawyer, Avery and Kirby versus Laney, Dane, Zach, Tate and Bennett. Whitley offered her driver to all the others, so everyone’s playing, which is pretty awesome. Their team has three guys to our two, but I’m not too worried about whether or not we win…until Sawyer opens that damn mouth of his again.
“All right, Gidget, what’s the wager?” He’s talking to Laney, who loves to bet, so this could get scary.
“I don’t know. Whatcha thinkin’, big boy?” She’s just toying with danger now.
“God help us.” Dane rolls his eyes and walks over to turn on some music. “Baby!” he calls out.
Ouch! Could’ve gone forever without hearing that…
“Please don’t egg Sawyer on. No females are getting naked, I mean it.”
All eyes in the room are on these two, waiting on them to decide the fates of their team. Whitley is humming the theme to Jeopardy softly beside me, and I grin hearing it.
“How about this? Losing team has to make the winning team dinner?” It’s a great, safe, couth suggestion from Bennett.
“Borrriiinnnggg.” Sawyer feigns a yawn.
“How about if the girls wear bikinis while they serve it?” Whitley adds and I flip my head to look at her, surprised at her boldness.
“Game on!” Sawyer yells.
“Y’all are fucking cheating! Look at Whitley’s shirt!” Zach points a wobbly, drunken finger at her chest. “She’s not drinking her beer, she’s wearing it!”
I giggle as I look at Whitley. She really has doused herself in the hurry of the game, and in light pink, wet…well, she’s wearing a black bra, let’s put it that way. “Come on, Whitley. I’ll get you another shirt.” I hold out my hand and lead her upstairs.
