Dating Trouble (Grover Beach Team Book 5)

by Katmore, Anna

  Beverly took a surprised step backward. “What?” she whispered. “You started it?”

  I rubbed a sudden chill from my arms, wishing I could get out of here somehow with nobody noticing.

  “I didn’t start it, no,” Chris replied. “He got on my nerves, and I broke his face.” He cut a quick glance at Ethan, eyes so narrow they couldn’t even be called slits any longer. As he reached for his mother’s keys again, I saw that his knuckles were bruised, too. Pulling the bloody piece of tissue out of his nose, he tossed it into the street and added, “He deserved it, so can we drop it and go eat?”

  “What restaurant do you think will let you in with a bloody face like that?” Beverly shot back, coming to the end of her patience. “Certainly not St. James Steakhouse! And what will Susan think of you now? We promised to take her out to celebrate your team’s and your victory tonight.”

  What? Why did she have to drag me into this? An ice-cold shiver zoomed through my body. It intensified and turned sizzling hot when Beverly forced Chris to look at me again. “You will apologize to your brother’s friend this minute for ruining our evening. And she even tended to you.”

  Jeez, I’d only wiped the blood from his face. I didn’t want him to apologize. But I was too stunned to croak even one syllable as our gazes locked in the dark parking lot.

  Chris gave me a look that made my heart pound painfully against my ribs. “I’m sorry.”

  I bit my lip and moved even closer to Ethan. That made Chris’s frown grow. Something was off, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Whatever his mother had said made sense to him, even when it was all so confusing to me.

  When I finally located my vocal cords and found enough air in my lungs to speak, I stepped forward and placed a hand on Beverly’s arm, unable to look at Chris now. “Really, there’s absolutely no need to apologize to me. I don’t care much for fancy restaurants anyway. We can just leave and…and…you can drop me off at my house. I’ll be fine with that.”

  “Bullcrap, of course you’re coming with us. We’ll go out and get a winner’s meal,” Ethan said in a much lighter tone, startling us all. He stepped forward and smacked Chris on the shoulder. “No one cares about your ugly face at Burger King.”

  A small grin slipped onto Chris’s lips. “Right back at ya, bro.”

  To my astonishment, Ethan had succeeded in taking the awkwardness out of the moment. Even his mother let go with a sigh. All this odd talk was probably due to the shock of finding her son beaten. I even noticed how her hands were shaking when she reached out to stroke Chris’s good cheek. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

  He accepted her apology with a nod and climbed into the car. We followed. As he started the engine and Beverly buckled herself in next to him, she said in a casual voice, “By the way, you’re grounded for the next two weeks, buddy.”

  Chris stared at her, his mouth hanging slightly open, but he must have considered this a mild punishment, because he closed it without contradiction and drove us to Arroyo Grande.

  Chapter 9

  THERE WEREN’T MANY people at Burger King when we arrived. We must have missed the rush before a film started in the theater just around the corner, and I can’t say I was sorry about it. While Chris and his mom lined up to place our order, Ethan and I claimed a table in the back. It was in front of a wall-to-wall window, but the light in this fast food restaurant was so bright, the only thing I could see when I looked at the glass was a reflection of the interior and my pale face. Music drifted from somewhere, just loud enough to notice but not to break any flow of conversation…which Ethan and I didn’t really have right now.

  He’d grabbed a bunch of straws on the way back here and started peeling the paper wrappings off them as he mumbled, “You okay?”

  “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  “You were so silent on the drive here.”

  I stole one of the straws and peeled it, too. My usually cold fingers had gone to ice status, which wasn’t uncommon in situations of stress, but it made fumbling with the paper wrapping almost painful. “Well, everyone was,” I replied, and that wasn’t even a lie.

  “Yeah, but still. You seemed a little concerned when Chris came out with that black eye.”

  “I was.” I looked up, putting enough sincerity in my voice to make him understand what really unsettled me about it. “More because your mom seemed ready to pick a fight on such an important night for your brother. I hate fights.” My voice dropped. “I get more than enough of them at home.”

  Ethan tapped a rhythm on the table with his straw. “Your parents fight with you?”

  “Not with me, but they do shout at each other a lot.” I cut a glance at the counter and saw that Chris and Beverly were headed our way, each carrying a tray loaded with wrapped burgers and paper cups. “Long story. Now is not the right moment to talk about it,” I told Ethan.

  He tracked my gaze and nodded.

  Chris planted his butt next to me, and I knew I should have chosen the empty space beside Ethan instead of across from him. I mean, how was one supposed to enjoy a burger when the beguiling scent of Axe was clouding your mind and senses? Chris must’ve had a bottle of that stuff in his duffle bag and put it on again after his shower. Before the fight with Will. Thinking about it, I wondered what the guy had said that made Chris feel the need to put a fist in his face. No one mentioned it while we ate, but it had to be something really bad. I was curious. Maybe Ethan would find out later, and he could tell me tomorrow.

  He and Chris were discussing the other team’s tactics right now, which sounded like gibberish to me. How would I know what a double dribble was, or an alley-oop, and even weirder, a backcourt violation? But that reminded me to ask Ethan why he’d dropped basketball, once I got a chance to grill him alone.

  After giving his all in the game earlier, Chris obviously had to recharge his batteries. As I warmed my fingers on my burger and munched with pleasure, he inhaled freaking three. And after he’d finished his fries, too, he stole a handful of mine.

  Not being a big eater myself, I didn’t mind. When only one fry was left, though, and his hand sneaked toward my tray once again, I quickly grabbed that last one and stuffed it in my mouth, turning to Chris and grinning while I ate it.

  “Meany,” he mouthed with a wicked smile.

  “Hey, you can’t promise to treat me for dinner, then eat half my meal,” I teased. With a glance at Beverly, I assured myself she was occupied with talking to Ethan, before I leaned a little closer to Chris and added in a low voice, “Anyway, it’s not my fault you gave away your chance at an unhealthy, half-pound steak that might have filled you up a little better.”

  “Ah, I don’t care,” he shot back and shrugged. “Ethan’s steaks are much better, anyway.”

  “True,” Ethan joined in our conversation. I wasn’t aware he’d been listening. “You have to let me cook for you one day,” he said to me.

  “What?” I nailed him with a challenging stare. “Was that an invitation for dinner next Saturday?”

  “It certainly was. But I can’t do it alone. Chris has to help me.” He looked at his brother as if this was enough of a request.

  Chris made a scrunched up face. “No, I don’t like cooking for guests, Ethan. You know that.” He stole a couple of his mom’s fries and happily took the last bite of her double cheeseburger when she mercifully offered it to him.

  “Oh, come on. Why are you always playing down your talent? She’ll love it. You’re an excellent chef,” Ethan countered.

  If the dessert Chris had prepared the other night was any indication, Ethan was right. And suddenly, I really wanted him to relent and cook for me, if only to give me an excuse to watch Ethan do something he loved. I tilted my head to Chris and tried for a teasing smile. “Pleeease?”

  He laughed softly, seemingly touched, but still he shook his head. “No.”

  “Come on, don’t be a spoilsport. I promise I’ll eat up, even if it tastes terrible.”
/>   His flattered smile disappeared, replaced by a blood-searing look pinning me straight in the eyes. “It won’t be terrible.”

  Suddenly, all I could manage was a hoarse whisper—how could he do this to me in only two seconds? “So you’re going to cook for me with your brother?”

  “Mmm”—he cut a musing glance into space—“nope.”

  Dammit. My hopes dashed, I sighed, but a second later I had one last brilliant idea. Struggling to imitate his blood-heating gaze from before, and most probably failing, I cooed, “You owe me.”

  Quietly, Chris studied his family for a moment and finally focused on me again, wiping his fingers with a napkin. “I do, indeed.” He paused. “You’re lucky I’m grounded and don’t have anything better to do next Saturday.”

  That was the equivalent of a yes, and my mouth stretched into a grin.

  “Ah, that’s lovely,” Beverly said. “But you have to make sure to come early to be around when they actually cook. Their meals are always delicious, but it’s even more of a delight to watch them in the kitchen together.”

  I leaned back, dipping my head against the glass wall beside me, and locked gazes with Ethan. “Is that so?”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Well, if my mom says so, it must be.”

  “Are you finished, guys?” Beverly asked a moment later, stacking the empty cups and cleaning up the mess the boys had made with crunched paper wrappings and extra ketchup packs. She got up and swung her handbag over her shoulder, which might have been a little too peppy, because the bag knocked Chris straight in the face.

  Clapping his hands over his nose, he yipped and squeezed his eyes shut, biting back his curse. “Darn it, Mom!”

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry!” She dropped her bag and leaned down to her son, caressing his hair and patting his shoulder.

  When Chris lowered his hands, his eyes had glazed over, which was normal when getting a punch to the nose. I would know; several elbows had knocked into my face since I’d started playing soccer, and there was nothing you could do about the tears welling up at such a moment. A streak of blood also crossed his fingers. “Fuck,” he hissed and got up from his seat, heading at a fast stride for the restrooms.

  “Ouch,” I whined, feeling Chris’s pain in each cell of my body.

  “Ah, he just needs to learn to stay out of fights,” Ethan joked, “or, by all means, away from her.” With a nod at his mother, he gave me a conspiratorial smile. Grabbing the edge of the table and the backrest of his seat, he lifted himself up and climbed out of the booth over Beverly’s place. “Anyway, I better go after him and make sure he doesn’t bleed all over the place, or they’ll call the police on Mom before we’re out of here.”

  “We’ll be waiting for you by the car,” Beverly told him, clearing the table. She shoved the trays onto the stack by the wall and tossed the cups in a separate basket.

  I followed her to the exit but changed my mind at the last second. “I need to wash my hands. I’ll meet you outside in a minute.” Beverly nodded, and I headed to the ladies’ room. Pushing the door open, I heard Ethan’s voice drifting from the men’s. The only way I could tell it was him and not Chris was because he didn’t sound like his nose was broken.

  “You did this because of me, didn’t you?” he said in a low tone, obviously feeling bad for what had happened to Chris. Curiosity kept me rooted to the spot and I strained to hear more of their conversation.

  There was a pause and no reply from Chris, so Ethan added, “You know, you didn’t have to do this.”

  “You’re wrong,” Chris snapped all of a sudden. “I did have to. And I don’t regret it either. Will has been asking for an ass-kicking for a long time. But you, on the other hand, shouldn’t have brought Susan home.”

  Leaning back, I narrowed my eyes at the stick figure on the door and made a funny huh sound, as if this little sketch had anything to do with it. Fortunately, there was no one else back here in this corridor to see me acting a little crazy.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Ethan’s voice was small, guilty. I didn’t believe him, and obviously neither did Chris.

  “Don’t play stupid, Ethan. You know what I mean. What do you want to prove with her?”

  A thud on the door made me jump backward and I knocked into the wall behind me. Ow. Ethan must have tipped back against the door. He replied, “I’m not trying to prove anything. I like her.”

  Chris laughed. “The same way she likes you?”

  “Maybe?”

  “And maybe not.”

  At Chris’s sardonic voice, goosebumps grew all over my skin like moss on the forest floor. He’d told me before that he didn’t think Ethan and I were a good fit, but I’d thought it was only to irritate me. Now, as he confronted Ethan with the same accusations, I wondered how much truth there’d been in his chatter from the beginning—and if I wanted to find out after all.

  This was probably a good moment to retreat and forget what I’d heard, but the masochistic side of me just couldn’t miss out on a chance to know everything.

  “Sue seems like a nice girl,” Chris continued after a beat of silence. “You’re going to hurt her if you don’t tell her the truth soon.”

  “You know what?” Ethan growled. “I don’t care about this shit. Come outside when you’ve stopped the nose bleed.”

  The door opened, and in a panic, I slipped into the women’s restroom, hiding behind the wall while the door slid close. But before it shut completely, I heard Chris say in a stern voice, “Ethan. I’m your brother. I don’t care.” A short pause. “And neither does Mom.”

  That was the last thing I heard, because the door next to me had securely closed and all I could do now was go pee. But Chris’s last words didn’t leave me alone. What did he mean, he didn’t care? Of course he cared about Ethan or he wouldn’t have said all these things to him. So what was that particular thing that he didn’t care about?

  Washing my hands, I shook my head, cursing the moment I’d traded the movies for a darn basketball game tonight.

  I got to the car before Chris. The nose bleed must have been worse than it looked. Ethan said nothing to me when I climbed into the backseat and sat next to him. He only looked out the window on the other side. Wondering if this was the end of our romance, and if all this had actually happened more in my head than reality, I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window and watched the streetlights flash by once Chris came out of Burger King and drove us home.

  He found my house easily with my instructions at every crossing and parked at the curb to let me out. I thanked Beverly for the invitation and told Ethan to call me if he wanted to do something next week. He didn’t look at me but nodded.

  Now thank you, Chris Donovan, for ruining this for me! Even if it was all only ever a bubble, which had popped now. Gritting my teeth, I slammed the door shut and walked inside.

  It was just shy of eleven and I found both my parents still awake—and not fighting for once. They were both watching TV and said hi when I came in. Forgetting about the confusing night for a moment, I just leaned against the doorjamb and looked at them. Mom had her socked feet stuffed under Dad’s thigh. He absently rubbed her calf up and down while he focused on the screen, eating pretzels which they had placed in a bowl between them.

  Why couldn’t it always be like this?

  “Is everything okay, darling?” my mother asked, ripping me out of my musings. Both their puzzled gazes zeroed in on me now.

  I cast them a warm smile. “Sure. It was just a strange night. I’m tired. See you in the morning.”

  Mom blew a kiss my way before I headed for my room.

  Once I was showered and dressed in my PJs, I crawled under the bedspread and fished for my phone, which I’d put on my desk. A text had come in, but it was not from Ethan, as I had hoped. It was from Chris again, reading: Good night, sweetness.

  For a moment there, I felt the urge to throw my phone across the room and bang my head against the wall. Et
han had a secret. He liked me, but he was lying to me. And Chris obviously knew the answer, but he would only send me crap messages. How was that fair?

  I considered sending Ethan a text and asking him about their chat in the restroom, but that, of course, was a dumb idea. He would hate me for listening in where I wasn’t welcome, and if he kept things from his own twin brother, I was certainly the last person he’d tell them to.

  But the conversation swirled in my head and kept sleep at arm’s length. Frustration made me toss and turn and sigh at regular intervals—until I finally switched the bedside lamp on again and reached for my cell phone, my mind set.

  Are you still awake? I keyed in and sent the message off to… Yeah, who would I send it to? Ethan or Chris?

  My head dipped forward onto my bent knees and a sinister growl left me. Ethan would be the better choice for sure, just because it was about him and me, and we connected so easily over simple things like books and music. But the way he’d sounded earlier made me doubt he’d be happy if I confronted him about such a peculiar topic on the phone.

  Chris, on the other hand, was a dick, and he would get a kick out of my texting him, but he seemed more ready to help me figure things out than his brother. Taking a deep breath, I straightened and sent him the message.

  I am now, his reply came forty-five seconds later.

  It was fifteen minutes past midnight. I should have checked the time before I texted him. But since I’d already woken him, I might as well go through with my plan.

  I typed another message: Can I talk to you about something?

  You can call me anytime. ;-)

  Agh, I’d been hoping for a “Sure, what’s on your mind.” Calling him seemed like such a bad idea that the hair at the back of my neck protested with a standing ovation. It was like he was teasing some sort of commitment out of me. But I wanted to find out the truth…

  Swallowing hard, I steeled my nerves, swiped my thumb across the screen and called Chris.

  “Hey, sweetness. What’s troubling you?” Some leftover sleep resonated in his voice, but it wasn’t too bad. In fact, he sounded positively surprised that I’d jumped on his offer and given him a call in the dead of night.