Scar

by Baylin Crow

  Steeling myself for whatever I was about to walk into, I left the safety of the bedroom and headed down the hall to where the sounds of someone working in the kitchen was coming from. The sharp sound of a plate being placed in the sink made my head throb. Rounding the corner, I stopped short. Beard was moving around the space in a pair of gray sweatpants and a thin white t-shirt that hinted at a very fit body. The light colors set off his light olive skin and dark hair. He was hands down the hottest guy I had ever seen.

  Beard hadn’t acknowledged me yet, so I didn’t know if he had noticed me standing there and gawking at him.

  “Good morning,” I said, trying for casual. He looked up at me, his dark green eyes narrowed and he grunted something that sounded like “Mornin’.”

  “Do you happen to have something for a headache?” I asked. If I didn’t get something fast, I was sure my head would explode. He turned the heat off on the stove, setting the still sizzling pan aside and grabbed a cup from a cabinet. Filling it with coffee, he then opened a different cupboard and pulled down a bottle of painkillers. He handed me both which I accepted gratefully.

  “Thanks for giving me a place to crash.” I gave him an apologetic smile.

  He shot me a look that made me think that I had maybe said something wrong.

  “Not like I had much of a choice when you passed out on me after your friends took off without you. You might want to rethink who you consider friends.” It was probably wrong, but the growl in his voice didn’t scare me. In fact, it did quite the opposite.

  “They aren’t that bad,” I tried to defend them, but even I had to admit last night was one of their more questionable decisions. Thinking they had been joking when they came up with the stupid idea, I had laughed along with them. I had no idea they would actually go through with it. Miles and Josh were a little off beat but completely stranding me with someone who probably didn’t want me around was a little messed up even for them.

  I walked over to the window and pushed the curtains to the side. Glancing outside, I noticed the familiar street and surrounding buildings right away. “You live above the bar?”

  “I do.” I wondered if he was always this short with people or if he reserved that especially for me. It wasn’t like I made my friends leave me behind last night.

  “Look, I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to put you out or anything.”

  His eyes didn’t give much away as hard as I was trying to read him. Ignoring what I said, he went back to the kitchen and plated an omelet and bacon breakfast on two plates. He sat them down across the table from each other and motioned for me to sit. My stomach rolled at the idea of even taking a bite.

  “I’m not all that hungry,” I said holding my stomach.

  “Soccer, sit down and eat.” He didn’t take his eyes off his plate. The use of my nickname that only he called me had me obeying his command. He was already digging in as I stared at my plate wondering how I could play off not eating. On any other day, this would have been a hell of a way to wake up.

  “Eat,” he repeated. I was ready to argue, but he interrupted. “I know all about hangovers, Soccer. Eat at least a little. It will help settle your stomach.” I wasn’t so sure he was right, but I picked up a piece of the crisp meat and took a small nibble. Surprisingly I didn’t gag and took a larger bite. “Just go slow.” His concern, however small, felt good.

  Through the rest of breakfast, I tried to make small talk that only received one word replies, so I gave up, and we both ate quietly, me avoiding the eggs like the plague and drinking another cup of coffee. The painkillers were starting to kick in, and I felt marginally better.

  While he cleared the plates and started rinsing them in the sink, I started looking around. It seemed his entire apartment was sparsely furnished with no decorations or photos to speak of. The living room was only a brown leather couch, small coffee table with nothing other than a remote on it and a mounted flat screen TV. The dining table we had just eaten at was just a small wooden table with four chairs. The kitchen seemed the most lived in space. He had spice racks and a lot of cooking gadgets that I wouldn’t even know how to use because I was possibly the worst cook in town and basically lived on takeout. He seemed very comfortable moving around in the there.

  “Do you cook a lot?” I ventured.

  “Yes,” he said while still ignoring me. Well ok then, I thought, so much for small talk. It was pretty clear I wasn’t welcome here so when he asked if I needed a ride anywhere, I quickly took him up on the offer to drive me home. We got two days off from practice every week and luckily today was one of them so I could spend the day on the couch nursing my hangover.

  Beard took off toward the bedroom and came back out dressed to go. He was dressed in long sleeve shirt that had looked like it had seen a lot of wear in that soft, comfortable way. The jeans he had on molded his thighs and ass perfectly. As he moved around it was impossible to miss the bulge between his legs, and despite the hangover, I wanted nothing more than to reach out and unzip him to uncover what lay beneath. My hands twitched, and I had to yank my eyes away before I did something stupid and embarrassed us both.

  “Do you know where my shoes are?” I asked, thinking for the first time he had probably removed them last night but knew better than to ask. He’d probably shut down completely if I brought it up. Proving my guess, I saw him visibly tense.

  “Probably next to my bed.” His bed. I hadn’t thought about it much before because I had felt so bad, but now that I was thinking about the fact that I had slept in Beard’s bed all night, it had me wondering where he had slept. I seriously doubted he had willingly crawled into bed beside me. The couch didn’t really look slept on although there was a blanket folded over the back. Suddenly I felt bad for taking up his bed. I could have easily slept on the couch, but I didn’t. Beard had put me in his bed. He wouldn’t have done that if he truly didn’t like me, right?

  I decided then that either Beard wasn’t as much of an asshole as he wanted me to believe or I was completely delusional. Keeping my mouth shut at the moment seemed to be the best thing or he’d probably run away like a skittish animal. I went in search of my shoes. They were placed neatly beside the bed.

  I had seen him looking at me when he thought I wouldn’t notice many times since we met. I didn’t try to hide the fact that I noticed him, even though I could tell it bothered him. That should have probably made me feel bad, but I basked in his non-ability to come off indifferent. Call it intuition, but I had a feeling I wasn’t the only one feeling this pull between us.

  “You ever coming out of there?” Beard called. He probably had his hand already on the doorknob ready to bolt, I snorted to myself.

  “Yup, just a sec.” I quickly laced my shoes. When I came back out, he was at the door, as expected, looking ready to get me out of here. He hadn’t been quick enough to hide the fact that he looked at me head to toe first and I had to bite back the self-satisfied smile battling to be set free. “Ready when you are.”

  Without a word, Beard led us down the stairs on the side of the building that I had never noticed. He walked us up to a black, lifted truck he had parked in the back. Crawling into the passenger side of the large beast, I reached for the radio knob once he turned the key. His hand whipped out and grabbed mine. Startled, I gave him a what-the-hell look.

  “Don’t touch the radio. And where’s your jacket?” I was ready with a quick, biting remark about him being rude but realized that even though he was acting like a jerk, he had pretty much taken care of me last night and this morning. He ripped his hand away and white knuckled the steering wheel as he backed out.

  “I wasn’t wearing one,” I said, ignoring the part about the radio and reaching for it again. He looked at me with disapproval before turning his eyes back to the road. His arm reached into the back and reappeared holding a red hooded sweatshirt.

  “Put this on.” It was chilly out so without argument I slipped it on and was immediately surrounded by the
spicy scent of his cologne.

  The more I tried to keep my eyes off of him, the more I was drawn in, sneaking glances at him. He had to have noticed, but he never said anything.

  In the light of day, his features were more distinguished. His dark brown hair was styled similar to my own, being longer on top than the sides but his had a slight wave to it. The beard he sported was several inches past his chin. I wasn’t normally into that, at least I didn’t think I was, but it definitely did it for me on him. His skin was pale compared to my own sun-kissed coloring but set off his sea green eyes. It was only his lush mouth that softened his otherwise gruff appearance.

  “Mind telling me where we’re going?” he asked as he waited to find out which way to turn from the parking lot. Giving him directions, I was content on the otherwise silent drive home.

  When we pulled up to the three bedroom house set in a middle-class neighborhood, he quirked a brow my way. “This is your place?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Just not what I expected, I guess.”

  “Oh, really? And what did you expect?” Shaking his head, he didn’t offer an explanation. I lived here with two roommates who were also on the team. They also both happened to be my best friends since freshman year, however after last night that might have to change when I kick their asses. “It’s close to campus.” I offered, and he nodded. I climbed out and turned for the house, noticing the blinds moving. They were totally spying on me.

  “Make sure you talk to your friends about what they did last night. That wasn’t cool.”

  “They were just trying to do me a favor.” I watched his face as confusion clouded his features and suppressed the laughter I felt trying to escape. “It didn’t pan out.” That part sucked but hadn’t come as a surprise.

  When he went to open his mouth, I turned back towards the house intending to ignore him and give him a taste of his own medicine. “Later, Beard!”

  Over the sound of the motor, I heard him mumbling something to himself, and I let myself into the house ready to kill my roommates.

  “So I take it, it went well,” Miles said shoving what looked like day-old, cold pizza in his mouth.

  “You are so dead.” He jumped from the couch and took off as I started for him. Josh opened the door and with one look at my face, he slammed his door shut, locking it. The sound of his laughter was muffled. The ass couldn’t stay in there forever.

  Three

  Beard

  Over the last week, I had done a pretty good job of side-stepping all of Andi’s overbearing questions. She was pushing for details about Soccer staying the night where there weren’t any to give. Andi looked so sweet and quiet with her pixie-like features and blonde hair, but then she opens her mouth, and you realize how wrong you were. Luckily, Matt and Vanessa just did their jobs and stayed out of my personal business.

  “You’ve been eyeing that door all night.” She looked at me, daring me to deny it. I knew the Kings had played tonight. The game should have been over a few hours ago, and I had expected them to have already shown up by now. I had been watching for him despite trying not to. I knew with soccer games, they weren’t always on the same days of the week, and the only reason I knew what days they might show up was to follow the schedule. Which, I told myself, I only did so I’d know when to prepare for the rush. The later it got, though, I had to wonder if maybe he wouldn’t come back. I hadn’t exactly been the nicest host and maybe that was for the best.

  Jack, busy body as he was, joined in. “She’s right. Your attention has been glued to that door. Expecting someone?” He asked as he took a pull from his beer.

  “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Just ignore her.” I said as I cleaned a few more glasses. She rolled her eyes but then not so quietly squealed causing me to look up to find out what she was on about. Her eyes were pointedly staring towards the front door, and I let out a breath that felt a lot like relief, but that couldn’t be right.

  Soccer was here along with two of the guys who had been with him on his birthday. Instead of taking their normal place at a table, all three headed straight for the bar, and my spine stiffened. If they sat at the bar, that meant I’d be stuck. Avoiding him when he was this close would be impossible. With dread, I watched as they all took up empty barstools on my end of the bar, throwing coats on the high backs except for Soccer who was wearing my sweatshirt. We weren’t that busy tonight, unfortunately, so I couldn’t beg off to help another customer.

  When Soccer greeted me, I nodded back. His friends looked between us, and I wondered what they were thinking. “Hey, Beard,” one of them said.

  I glowered at them. “My name is not Beard.”

  “Oh, well that’s what he says.” He poked his thumb in Soccer’s direction who was wearing his normal goofy grin, the one that made the dimple on the left side of his face noticeable. I wondered if he talked about me when he wasn’t here, and I didn’t know how I felt about that one way or the other.

  “Well, Soccer can’t seem to remember it.” None of them seemed to be phased by my comment which irritated me.

  “You don’t call me by my name either,” Soccer reminded me, all wide-eyed innocence.

  “Payback,” I said, earning a chuckle from his friends. “So where is the rest of your normal crew?”

  “We played a bad game tonight and lost. Most of the guys weren’t up to going out and chose to go home and mope around.” Soccer didn’t seem too upset, but then again he never did. I nodded in understanding. He wouldn’t know it, but I knew exactly what that felt like.

  “Ok, if you two are done, can we get some drinks?” The blond guy asked.

  “Yep, what’s it going to be?” It was unusual to see anyone on the team come without the rest of them, but I knew the two of them were also seniors and old enough to not get me shut down.

  “Whatever’s on tap,” Soccer said, looking at his friends who nodded in agreement.

  I left to fill their mugs, hearing them talk about their game in the background and trying to repress memories that tried to barge their way in. Bringing the brews back over, I sat one down in front of each of them. I wanted to call them out about last weekend, but I wasn’t sure it was my place. The more I thought about it, the more I decided it definitely was. They left him for me to take care of and that made it my business.

  “So I’m just going to say it.” All three turned to listen. “Last weekend was not cool. If you come together, you should leave together. Leaving someone behind will get you banned if you pull that again.” I kept my face straight even though I still had the urge to lean across the bar and strangle them. If it hadn’t been for those two, I could have still been keeping Soccer out of my way.

  Surprising the shit out of me, the two I didn’t know by name burst out laughing, trying in vain to hide behind their drinks. Soccer’s face went red as he gave them both scathing looks. I don’t think I had ever seen him actually embarrassed before.

  “May I ask what you think is so amusing about that?” I asked, thoroughly confused. Why was he friends with these guys?

  “Ignore them.” Soccer regained my attention. “They are idiots and also my roommates. This is Miles and Josh. I’d introduce them to you, but they already know who you are.” He pointed at each one respectively. Miles was the one with dark red hair and Josh was the blond.

  “And best friends,” Josh added, helpfully. Soccer held up his fist and the other two bumped knuckles with him.

  “Word,” Miles agreed, nodding emphatically.

  I looked to Soccer and mouthed “Word?” to which he shrugged and shook his head.

  I still didn’t understand their friendship, especially now, but whatever, he was the one who had to deal with them. They could do whatever they wanted as long as it didn’t affect me and I told them as much.

  I noticed the looked pretty similar with the exception of their hair color. “Are you related?” I asked both of them.

  “Only by blood,” Miles replied. Ok,
whatever the hell that meant.

  “And sharing the womb, which I bet his big ass hogged,” Josh added, and Miles started arguing they were the same size, which was pretty much accurate.

  “Twins, huh?” That was pretty cool. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters so the idea of having a twin was pretty farfetched to me, but I assumed it was pretty cool.

  “Yup, but of course I’m the better looking one.” Miles winked. They were both good looking guys but only one of the three sitting here appealed to me and I turned to look at him only to see him frowning at me.

  I arched a brow in question.

  “What do you think, Beard? Which is better looking?” He asked. I was going to kill him.

  “Neither,” I replied honestly but hoping they’d take it as a joke. Since I was really bad at those, I doubted it had. The answer seemed to please Soccer as he relaxed back on the stool. I turned away towards the back to hide the quiet chuckle that escaped me under the guise of refilling the garnishes. Soccer didn’t need to know that I felt anything but disinterest where he was concerned.

  Movement caught my eye, and slowly realization crashed down on me causing my entire body to still. The back wall of the bar was mirrored, the way my grandfather had designed it, and it hadn’t even cross my mind. Chancing it, I looked at Soccer’s reflection who was smiling as bright as the sun, shaking with silent laughter. I sent him a glare which only caused his shoulders to shake harder. Looking towards his friends, I thanked my lucky stars that his friends were arguing with each other, completely oblivious to our exchange.

  “Can I get another?” he asked, his eyes dancing. I didn’t say a word for fear I might really regret what came out of my mouth. Taking his mug to the sink, I reached for a new one, filled it, and sat it in front of him. Then I walked over to Andi on the other side leaving him and his friends behind.