by McKinley May
She follows my gaze to the pair who are now chatting with a large group of sweaty soccer players. Rayne's animatedly asking the guys questions, then shoving a voice recorder in their faces to get their answers loud and clear on tape.
"Who's Sydney?" Julie asks.
"Vaughn's sis."
"Ick. Vaughn has a sibling?" Her nose wrinkles in disgust. "Is she as insufferable as him?"
There's no point in responding to her bitchy comment—nothing I say or do is gonna change the fact that Vaughn and Julie don't get along. Never have and never will.
And because Julie despises my housemate, she's already decided she hates his little sister by default.
Really sound logic there.
Without another word, I turn and head towards the group. Julie falls into step behind me, her handful of followers trailing her movements.
When we join the crowd, Rayne's grilling one of the sophomore defenders for some dirt...
Literally.
"Okay, Andre. What's the tea? Who on the squad desperately needs to give their shinguards and socks a good, long soak? Who's responsible for the quintessential locker room stink?"
Andre puts on a pearly-white grin, ready and willing to dish out some team secrets when an overly dramatic sigh interrupts him.
"Oh my God. Is this really what you people want to talk about?" Julie steps into the center of the circle and whips her rose-gold sunglasses off with a huff. "Enough of this interview nonsense. Why is everyone standing around when we could be partying on Mr. Grange's yacht right now?!"
The group lets out a loud cheer as I glance back at Felicity Grange—the quietest of Julie's minions. She offers a weak smile, obviously not thrilled that her family boat's being offered up as collateral for a rowdy soccer celebration.
But she doesn't protest, and I understand why.
Convincing her dad to let drunk college kids trash his watercraft is a helluva lot easier than telling the leader of the Goal Girls no.
As someone starts a rambunctious "Lake Winnie!" chant, Julie adds an amendment to the invitation.
"Men's soccer players and Goal Girls only. Sorry, Rayne." She doesn't sound even a smidge remorseful as she picks at a painted nail. Her eyes travel to Sydney. "And that excludes you, too, Little Steel. Sad day."
Julie's lips turn down as she drags a finger down her cheek like a mock tear drop.
Vaughn's jaw goes rigid, fists clenching by his sides as she insults both of his girls.
"Why don't you just fuck off, Julie?"
"It's fine." Rayne cooly dismisses the exclusion. "I think we'll hit up Mas Mantequilla instead. I kinda feel like drowning myself in strawberry margs and nachos. Don't you, babe?" She grabs V's hand and gives it a gentle squeeze as he nods.
I turn towards Sydney.
"You should come," I insist. "Lake Winnie's always a good time."
I ignore the objections that come from Julie's direction.
It's not her fucking boat—invitation list isn't up to her.
Syd's as collected as Rayne as she declines the offer. "Sounds fun, but I'm gonna join Rayne and my brother. Mexican sounds delicious right now."
"It sure freaking does!" Rayne loops arms with her and puts on a warm smile. "Let's go before the lunch crowd hits."
As the three of them turn to leave, I realize I never got a chance to do what I initially came over here for.
"Hey, Baby Blue," I call out. "Wait a sec."
She peers over her shoulder, one brow raised high. "Yeah?"
The sorry about yesterday spiel is on the tip of my tongue, but I pause when I notice every single pair of eyes are locked on us.
Legit everyone and their cousin is eavesdropping on our interaction.
Yeah...not gonna bring up our personal business in front of the masses.
And I'm also not about to take her aside for a private convo. Not with the suspicious glare Vaughn's giving me.
As casually as I can, I say the first thing that comes to mind. "You sure you don't wanna join?"
I swear I see a hint of disappointment in her gaze, but it dissipates when she nods. "Positive. Have fun."
They walk off the green field and I turn back to the party planners, half-listening as they talk rides and booze and music for the upcoming boat soirée.
Guess that apology's gonna have to wait.
8
Let me tell you something that really sucks.
The actual "school" part of school.
It's officially September and the most difficult part of college is starting to rear its ugly head. Long gone are the ice-breaker lectures and easy, reviewing what you learned in high school assignments. We're getting into the meaty stuff now.
I've always been a middle-of-the-road kind of student—maybe slightly above average. Not the brightest in the class, that's for certain, but intelligent enough to maintain a steady B average. I took two AP courses Senior Year, but those college-prep classes weren't able to prepare me for the in-freaking-sane amount of readings, assignments, and online discussion boards I'm required to finish daily.
The past few weeks have taught me some important things:
People always study on the weekends. (Say what?!?!) It's a thing, apparently. Last Saturday, my Biology study group texted to meet up at the student center. I sent a message back asking if campus was even open to students outside the typical Monday-Friday window.
They thought I was joking.I wasn't.
Professors dgaf if you pass or fail. No one's going to hold your hand and tell you exactly what to do to achieve high grades. It's up to you and you alone to get your work done.
and last but not least...
Getting a prime library spot is a must! My preference is a big, comfy armchair in the corner of the science library—the one directly under a fancy clock that makes the most relaxing ticking sounds as background noise. Don't underestimate the importance of a productive location. I got stuck at the designated "loud table" one night and that was quite the experience. Someone was giggling maniacally at a Netflix show, a girl was consuming package after package of very disruptive Pop Rocks, and the dude right next to me kept gasping and whisper-shouting "How fascinating!" at his Physics textbook.
You know what's fascinating?
The fact that this guy was reading a book called Advanced Quantum Theory of Electromagnetic Fields without falling asleep. Now that's what I call a scientific breakthrough.
I think it goes without saying, but my library stay was a short one that particular evening.
Anywhoooo...bottom line to all my ramblings?
College is hard.
It's currently Sunday afternoon, and I've been at the Treehouse getting my study on for a few hours now. Parker—the most academically inclined of all the boys—helped me out with some Psych 101 crap while Vaughn watched our interactions like a hawk. It seriously felt like he was a chaperone at a freaking middle school dance.
Stay arm's length apart at all times!
After thanking P for the guidance, I put my brother to work and make him explain my extremely lame Algebra assignment to me. He demonstrates how to do the first two problems, then nudges his head towards the third. "I want you to try that one on your own."
"Okay. Solo attempt. I can do that."
I study the question, then scribble down some equations that look vaguely familiar. As I begin to solve, I ask for confirmation. "Am I on the right track?"
"Lemme see." He peers over my shoulder and frowns. "Wait, Syd. What the...? No. Not even close."
He snatches the paper from my grasp. With a frustrated sigh, he pulls out a comically-large pink eraser and puts some major elbow grease into erasing my mistakes.
Rub it in, why don't you?
"I think you got it," I say after a full minute of him vigorously deleting my work. "You're gonna tear a hole in the worksheet!"
"Relax, dude. I'm doing you a solid here. If your professor sees even a hint of what you just tried to do, he's gonna send you st
raight to remedial math. Now pay attention this time. Jesus."
Vaughn grins as he flips to a blank page in his notebook and clicks his black pen twice.
Only math geniuses are brave enough to do their work in permanent ink, by the way.
I watch in awe as he solves the problem in less than thirty seconds. It took me longer to read the damn question.
"See how I did that? You gotta solve for the slope of the line, then plug the x value into the..."
He rattles off the steps at breakneck speed. Words are flying past his lips, they're entering my brain, but I'm missing that final step of actually processing what they mean.
"...and it's as easy as that." He finishes his spiel and gives me an expectant look. "Get it?"
"Uhhh...."
My response is total question-mark face.
He tries to clarify his instructions, but I'm beyond lost. If you told me he was speaking in tongues, I'd believe it.
"Vaughn!" I jab his ribs with my pencil to make him shut up. "Layman's terms! Explain it for someone who isn't a math major, please."
"You missed the good-with-numbers gene, huh?"
"Completely."
With a laugh, he launches into a dumb-downed version of his previous explanation.
After thirty more minutes of work, I'm finally getting the hang of it. When there are only a handful of problems left, Vaughn stands.
"I gotta run. I told Liam I'd go with him to get some new cleats at 2 and it's..." He glances down at his phone and groans. "2:14. Shit. You think you can handle the rest by yourself?"
"I think so. Thanks for helping me. You da bessttt," I sing-song with a wide grin.
"Tell me something I don't know." He plasters on a cocky smirk and checks the time again. "Need a ride home?"
"I'll walk. I need some fresh air, anyway."
"Cool. See ya."
And with that, he pats the top of my head like I'm a dog, grabs his keys, and jogs out the door.
A few minutes after he makes his exit, I do the same. I holler out a loud goodbye to Diego and Weston as I walk past the living room. They're so engaged in the Cowboys game on TV, they don't notice me whatsoever.
Football is one hell of a distraction.
If you ever get the urge to rob a bachelor pad, weekends in the Fall are prime for the pickin'. Just putting it out there.
I jog down the outdoor staircase, blistering heat engulfing me in an instant. As I unlatch the front gate and step onto the tree-lined street, I'm surprised to hear someone call my name.
"Sydney. Hold up."
I swivel around and spot Cameron sitting on the curb. He's casually leaning back on toned arms, a navy baseball cap turned backwards over messy blonde locks. The blazing sun hits his shirtless torso at all the right angles, taut abdominal muscles glistening in the light.
Holy crap...
He is seriously ripped.
"C'mere for a sec." He waves me over, interrupting my ogling. "I wanna talk to you."
The moment my eyes latch on to his, memories from Friday before last come back in a rush.
A tinge of anger and embarrassment pricks at my skin as I reflect on our morning together. The pleasant conversation, the yummy food, the fact that I felt like we were, I don't know, connecting?
Like I was more than just Vaughn's annoying little sis to him.
And then BAM!—the enjoyable encounter took a complete 180 when he shut me down.
Here's the thing...it's not the actual rejection that bothered me. Propositioning him to be my personal skills coach was a large ask; I'm more than aware of that fact.
It was the manner in which he denied the suggestion that realllllly pissed me off. The insulting shit he said?
Not cool.
But whatever. It's been a week and I'm over it.
Totally over it.
"Hey." I saunter up to him with a puzzled look. "What are you doing out here?"
"Chillin'. Working on my tan." He grins as he runs a hand over his already-bronzed skin.
I glance back at the Treehouse.
"I don't know if you realize this, but y'all have an awesome pool right over there—outdoor lounge chairs and inflatable rafts included." With the tip of my sneaker, I tap my toe against the ground. "Much more comfortable than getting some rays on a hot cement road."
"Believe me, that was the original plan." A frown turns his lips. "But I've got another responsibility to attend to out here. One that apparently hates swimming."
He juts his chin to the left. I follow the movement to a skinny goth girl riding a skateboard.
"That's Beverley?" I ask. "Your coach's daughter?"
"That's her."
"You weren't kidding about her obsession with the color black," I comment as I observe her dark outfit. "She's gotta be dying out here in this heat."
"Nah." Cam shrugs off my concern. "She's used to the hot climate."
"How do you know?"
"'Cause she's the spawn of satan."
"Oh, come on." I laugh at his dramatic statement. "She's a kid. She can't be that bad."
He squints those bright gray eyes at me, a you have no freaking clue expression on his face. "You might change your mind once you hear about our first official outing last Sunday."
"Where'd you guys go?"
"The mall. Figured it was a good place to keep a pre-teen occupied."
"And what was the problem? She made you wait for her to try on clothes? Asked your opinion on a new pair of shoes? The horror!"
"I wish that was the case." He shakes his head. "The girl turned into a damn juvenile delinquent the second we entered the building. She purposely knocked over an entire rack of swimsuits in Pac Sun, bought a fruit smoothie and dropped it in the middle of freakin' Neiman Marcus, and I caught her trying to swipe shit from every store we went inside. When she got tired of attempted robbery, she decided it'd be fun to try and frame me. Stuffed a massive pair of granny panties in my back pocket and the goddamn store alarm went off. It took fifteen minutes to explain to security that it was a misunderstanding and no, I wasn't a creepy pervert trying to shoplift women's underwear."
"Are you serious?" I try and fail to hold back an astonished laugh. "That is pretty terrible. Jeez."
"It was a fucking disaster, and that wasn't even the worst of it. I had to pee, so I told her to stay put and left her alone for like two minutes. Plot twist everyone saw coming—she ran off. I found her in Claire's ten minutes later trying to convince them to pierce her eyebrow."
"She didn't get one, did she?"
"No way. I dragged her ass outta there and made it clear she won't be putting any holes in her face or anywhere else while I'm in charge. So fucking ridiculous." He pulls his cap up, musses his hair a time or two, and places it back on his head. "On top of all that, she gave me the silent treatment the whole time. Legit spoke five words to me the entire afternoon."
"Maybe she's just shy?"
He grunts at the suggestion. "Not at all. She's got no issue vocalizing her true feelings. When I dropped her off at the Hansons' afterward, I told her to have a good night and that I'd see her next weekend. You know what her response was?"
"What?"
"'You suck donkey balls, Cameron'." He throws both hands up to the sky in confusion. "Where the fuck did that come from?"
"Oh my God." A snicker bubbles in my throat. "Why does she hate you so much?"
"I don't think it's a 'me' thing in particular. The kid despises anything with a beating heart."
"Hmm." I tap a finger to my chin in contemplation. "I don't know if I buy that. I bet I could get her to open up a bit. Maybe make her laugh."
A psshhh sound floats my direction. "Go for it, Baby Blue. Fat chance she'll even crack a smile."
Without another word to Cam, I cup my hands around my mouth and yell out to the so-called "seed of the devil".
"Bev! Hey!"
She looks annoyed at the interruption, but reluctantly skates over.
The itty-bitty girl
removes her helmet, vibrant hair matted to her forehead.
"Who are you?" She gives me a cautious once-over before glaring at Cameron with the fury of a thousand fires. "His girlfriend?"
"No, no. I'm Sydney. Cam and my older brother are the ones in a bromance."
"Cool story." She heaves an impatient sigh. "What the hell do you want, Cindy?"
My surprised gaze drifts towards Cameron. He's shaking his head, silent laughter emitting some major 'told you so' vibes.
"Tick tock, Cindy." Bev taps the back of her wrist twice and scoffs. "I don't have all day."
Okay, dang.
He definitely wasn't lying about the attitude.
Time to utilize my secret weapon.
"It's Sydney—like in Australia," I correct. "I wanna give you some pointers. I noticed you were struggling with your Ollie."
She looks downright shocked to hear me busting out the skateboard trick lingo. "Do you skate?"
"Used to. When I was your age, I dabbled in it for a while." I motion for her to hand over the board. "Can I show you?"
Her interest is officially peaked as she places it in my grasp.
I shrug my backpack off and pray I'm not too rusty after all these years.
For the next twenty minutes, she watches with laser focus as I exhibit the proper form for the maneuver. She asks questions, mimics my movements, and her fuck the world demeanor is pushed aside for the time being.
After Bev's seen enough, she runs off to try it on her own and I turn to face an awestruck Cameron.
"Damn, Tony Hawk. You know your shit."
"I never thought my skater-punk phase would come in handy, but here we are." I laugh and rest my hands on my hips. "And just so you know, it is a 'you' thing. She likes me just fine."
"Hate to admit it, but I think you're right." He frowns before glancing up at me in thought. "It'd be freaking sweet if you could come around every Sunday to keep her calm and occupied with activities that aren't illegal. Might be the only solution to me not going gray before graduation."
