Was there something going on with my mom and my coach?
I clutched my stomach. Oh, no.
“How about we eat?” Coach asked, eyeing my hand. “Dinner’s ready.” He smiled at Mom. The kind of smile that spoke of something more than friendship and that feeling of needing to toss my cookies returned full force.
I glanced at Mia to see if she noticed, too, or if it was just my imagination, but she was too busy watching her dad. The crease between her eyes that told me I wasn’t the only one catching the undertones.
The adults headed toward the kitchen while Mia and I stood stock still, watching. Coach Tillman’s hand rested on the small of Mom’s back while she glanced up at him smiling brightly.
Holy shit!
“Did you see-” I stuttered uneasily, turning to face Mia.
“Shut up,” she interrupted, her eyes burning. “It doesn’t mean anything. He’s just being nice.”
Right.
She had to be right.
Too bad she didn’t sound so sure.
Mia crossed her arms over her stomach, inadvertently drawing attention to some of her finer assets and distracting me from my suspicions about her dad and my mom.
I swallowed, commanding myself to get a grip. And keep my eyes up.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked.
Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I did the next best thing and stated the obvious. “We were invited for dinner.”
Mia’s eyes narrowed. I congratulated myself for noticing because there were certainly more fascinating things to see just then.
“Since when do you have dinner at my dad’s house?” Her arms flailed at her side and I breathed a sigh of relief. She was still distracting, just not so in my face.
“Since he invited us!” I replied, trying to keep my voice down. Why was she mad at me? It wasn’t my idea to have dinner at her house.
“Well, how long has that been going on?” She pointed in the direction of the kitchen where the sound of our parents laughter reached our ears.
I scowled. “There is nothing going on. You just said he was being nice.”
She folded her arms again and I closed my eyes. Stupid girl. Didn’t she know what she was doing to me? I was trying to be a gentleman but she was making it impossible.
Sighing, I turned my back to her. Better that than her asking why my eyes were closed. Of course, being who she was, Mia stomped around until she was in my face again.
She jabbed a finger in the center of my chest.
Was it wrong that I felt a small measure of satisfaction when she flinched as though the action had hurt her finger more than it had my chest?
Probably.
She shook it off before I had time to feel guilty for being a jerk. “Can you not hear them in there? You’re the one that’s been living here. You haven’t noticed anything?”
I thought about the texts and cleared my throat. “She’s been getting a lot of texts lately.”
Mia snorted. “Texts? That’s all you’ve got? Texts!” She made it sound like I was a simpleton.
I did not want to discuss my mother’s love life- Did I really just think the words love life and my mother in the same sentence? -with Mia, even if our parents were in there flirting with each other.
“Yes.”
Mia narrowed her eyes. “You are no help.” I half expected her to stamp her foot like a two-year-old with a temper.
“What about you? What’s your dad been up to?” Turn about was fair play.
Watching her closely, I noticed a flicker of something. She’d seen something, but she wasn’t eager to share. Typical.
More laughter from the kitchen drew our attention away from each other.
“We better get in there,” she muttered under her breath while I debated making a run for it. It was only a couple of miles back to our apartment.
She must have seen the look on my face because her hand clamped down on the sleeve of my shirt. Before I knew it, she’d half dragged me into the kitchen.
Mom shot a questioning glance in our direction once we stepped over the threshold. I yanked my shirt out of Mia’s grasp and moved as far away from her as possible. The girl might be beautiful, but she was crazy and I didn’t want anything to do with her. Besides, I had more important things to worry about. Like the cozy distance between my basketball coach and my mom standing in his kitchen. This situation required some finesse. No matter how much I wanted to hurl, I had to at least try to act normal.
“Smells good,” I commented while patting my stomach. That was totally something I would do.
Mom grinned, her eyes moving to include Mia. “Grayson’s always hungry.”
“Especially for-” I paused to see what Coach had set on the table. “Pasta.”
Coach Tillman laughed. “Well, that’s good because that’s about all I know how to make. Right, Mia?” He slipped his arm around Mia’s shoulder in a move that wouldn’t have seemed so awkward if Mia wasn’t doing her level best to avoid any contact with her dad.
Ducking out from under Coach’s arm, Mia stepped over to the counter and picked up a platter filled with garlic bread, the frozen kind from the grocery store that I cooked for myself on nights Mom had to work. Dude had no game whatsoever.
“Pasta and hot dogs,” Mia replied with a sigh.
Mom giggled. “Not together, right?” She shot a grin at Coach that made my armpits sweat. “There aren’t any hot dogs in that pasta, are there, Dennis?”
Mia’s dad grinned and nudged Mom’s shoulder with his. For a split second I thought he was going to plant a kiss on the top of her head but he seemed to catch himself just in time.
It was worse than I thought.
I snuck a glance at Mia. She was watching our parents, a look of horror on her face.
I willed her to look at me. When she finally did I widened my eyes significantly. She pressed her lips together and shook her head. I knew we’d be talking later.
Coach clapped his hands together once, grabbing our attention before rubbing them together like some sinister mad scientist. Or a guy who was really hungry and looking forward to eating his dinner.
“Let’s eat.”
We sat at the round table, Mom on my right and Mia on my left. Coach sat across from me, sandwiched between them on the other side. Each of us filled our plates without talking.
“So, Mia. How are you liking Eastridge Heights?” Mom asked, filling the silence after a few awkward moments of utensils scraping against plates being the only sound in the room.
Mia swallowed the bite of food in her mouth before responding. “I like it.” She shrugged. “It could be worse.”
I snorted. Mia shot me a look. Whatever. It hadn’t been a glowing endorsement. EH was a great school and she was a golden skinned California snob.
Mom cleared her throat and kicked my shin under the table. Okay, I had to play nice. Fine. I inhaled a deep breath.
“How was the game today? I haven’t heard yet?” Mom asked. I wasn’t sure if she was asking me or Coach, so I kept my mouth shut not trusting myself to keep things cordial.
But it was Mia who spoke up. “Grayson had three turnovers.”
What the hell?
Shifting in my seat, I shot her a look.
Her eyes were wide and her hand covered her mouth like the words had run out of it without her permission.
Coach frowned at his daughter and there was a moment of awkward silence. Who was I kidding? The whole thing was awkward.
“Well, that’s too bad, honey,” Mom said, rubbing my shoulder.
I had to stop myself from shrugging her hand off. It was her fault we were even in this situation. Whatever this situation was!
“It wasn’t a total loss, Gray,” Coach said, setting down his glass of water and turning to Mom. “He also shot three for five from behind the three point line and made six free throws.”
I felt a shot of pride that Coach had remembered my stats so clearly before reminding
myself that he was quite possibly jonesing for my mom.
“I had six rebounds and two assists, too,” I added, more for Mia’s benefit than anyone else’s.
“Whatever,” she mouthed when I glanced her way.
What was her problem? Other than the obvious, of course. She was a wench.
It didn’t get any better from there. Mom tried to include Mia and I in the conversation but it quickly became apparent we had no intention of pretending we were having any fun at all.
Coach asked about the ER and Mom told him some funny stories I hadn’t heard before. She must save all the gross ones for me. Yipee.
The whole thing was bad enough, I lost my appetite and didn’t even finish my meal. I was an eighteen year old guy, that never happened.
Finally, everyone seemed to be finished eating. I wanted to jump up and down with excitement, assuming the torture was almost over, but Mom and Coach Tillman had other plans.
Coach cleared his throat, immediately drawing my attention. Beside me, Mia stopped playing with the noodles on her plate to look at her dad.
“Well, I guess it’s confession time,” he said, his face turning a little red.
The tone of his voice had my palms sweating and when he reached across the table to pick up Mom’s hand, I had to pull the collar of my shirt away from my neck.
“There was a reason I invited you and your mom here tonight, Grayson.” He glanced around the table before continuing. He had to notice the sick expression on my face and the look of abject horror on Mia’s.
Mom was the only one smiling.
“Grayson. Mia. Michelle and I-”
“Wait!” I shouted, cutting off whatever horrible thing he was going to say about whatever was going on between him and my mother.
Oh, hell.
Three sets of expectant eyes turned toward me.
Only, I had no idea what I was going to say.
And then it hit me, there was only one way out of this. I just prayed it would work.
7
Mia
What was he doing?
Grayson’s face was red and a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. His wide eyes focused on me. Suddenly, I was more terrified of what Grayson was going to say than what Dad almost said.
Michelle seemed like a nice lady. Right?
“We have to tell them,” Grayson said to me.
What?
“What?” I shook my head. What was he talking about.
Grayson’s beautiful green eyes widened so only I could see. He was trying to tell me something but I didn’t know what.
“I don’t want to hide it anymore,” he said.
What was ‘it’?
“Okay?” That could have been a question or an agreement. I’d let him decide. Because I was stupid. Where was he going with this? And how was it going to help us out of the situation? And by situation, I meant his mom and my dad.
Grayson turned to face our parents at the same time his arm snaked around my shoulders.
Oh, no.
Red alert!
What was he doing?
“Mom. Coach. I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’ll just spit it out. Mia’s my girlfriend.”
Oh.
Heck.
No.
He didn’t.
I tried to say something, anything, but couldn’t get anything past the anger building in my throat. Instead, my mouth opened and closed like a fish.
Grayson’s mom was the first one to speak. “What? When did this happen?”
Yeah, I wanted to know the answer to that one myself. What was he thinking?
Grayson scooted his chair closer to mine and it seemed the closer we got, the further Dad and Michelle moved away from each other. Crisis temporarily averted! Although, averting one crisis by creating another seemed rash.
I clamped my hand on Grayson’s thigh under the table and squeezed. Hard.
“Ahhh. Ha-ha.” Grayson grabbed my hand off his thigh and held it in his. He shot me a warning look before turning back to his mom. “Um. It’s recent.”
I snorted. Like three seconds ago recent.
Grayson’s hand squeezed mine, but not painfully.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” My dad appeared blindsided and I almost giggled at the disgusted expression on his face that almost exactly matched the one Grayson had worn when he saw my dad pick up his mom’s hand.
Grayson squirmed in his seat. “Well, sir, we didn’t know how to tell you.” He glanced at me and I had to admire his acting skills. He actually looked like he liked me and we both knew that wasn’t true. “It happened so fast and with me being on the basketball team and you being my coach.” Grayson let his voice trail off with a shrug. I wanted to puke in his lap. “But now felt like the right time to tell you. Right, babe?”
Babe?
I dug my fingernails into the soft flesh between his thumb and forefinger.
But Grayson was quick. I hadn’t given him enough credit. He lifted our clasped hands to his lips and kissed the back of mine. His lips were surprisingly soft and the warmth from them shocked me into releasing my claws from his skin.
Well, played. Well, played.
But that didn’t mean I had to go along with this harebrained idea of his.
“Dad, Grayson’s just kid-”
“We should let you guys talk for a minute.” Grayson interrupted before I had a chance to stop this crazy train before it pulled out of the station.
Our parents were staring at us with matching stunned expressions. There was no way to fix that without telling them the truth and I didn’t think Grayson was going to let that happen. He’d already kissed my hand to keep me from ruining his plan. What would he do if I started to say something he didn’t want me to? Would he stop me again? With his lips?
Narrowing my eyes, I dared him to try it.
Grayson grinned and stood. “Come on, babe.” He pulled on my hand until I had no choice but to follow him. “We’ll be right back.”
I waited until we were in the living room to yank my hand from his.
“Are you crazy?” I whisper shouted, jabbing his firm chest with my finger again. It didn’t hurt any less than it did the first time. When would I learn?
“Shhh,” he admonished with wild eyes. “Do you want them to hear us?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I raised one brow.
Grayson rolled his eyes and sighed. “Let’s go outside. Where’s your jacket?”
“I don’t need a jacket because I’m not going outside with you. We have nothing to talk about. Now go back in there and tell them the truth.” My voice rose with each word I spoke.
Grayson moved closer until his body was flush with mine. He reached up, covering my mouth with his hand. I was too surprised to push him away. His other arm reached for my puffy jacket hanging on a hook by the door. His eyes never left mine as he removed his hand from my lips and spread the coat open behind my back lifting one brow.
“Fine,” I huffed, slipping my arms into the sleeves.
Once we were both ready, I led him out to the front porch.
Grayson wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me into his body until his mouth almost tasted my ear.
My breath hitched despite myself.
“What are you doing?” I asked, hoping he didn’t notice how breathless I was.
“Were you even paying attention in there?” he whispered in my ear. His warm breath tickled my neck, causing my shoulder to rise on its own.
Grayson buried his face deeper. “Do you really need me to spell this out?” His shoulders rose as he inhaled and then he lifted his head, his face inches from my own, his intense green gaze drilling into mine. “What’s worse, Mia? Boyfriend? Or brother?”
“Brother?” I repeated.
Grayson nodded. He was so close. His handsome face so distracting, making me lose my focus. His eyes. His scent.
I swayed on my feet, wondering what was wrong with me. Reaching out, I latched onto the n
earest thing that would keep me from melting at his feet. It just so happened the nearest thing was him. His sweatshirt felt clean and crisp under my fingertips, his waist trim and firm.
Gosh, Grayson was yummy.
No! I gave myself a mental slap to the face. Wake up, brain! Get control of the hormones, please! Grayson was a player. He was the enemy and he’d just told our parents we were dating. I did not want him to affect me like this.
I dropped my hands from his side and he started talking like I hadn’t just caressed his waist through his shirt.
“Do you really want a step-brother? And not just any step-brother-” He gestured to his chest with his thumb. “Me?”
A whimper escaped. Grayson? My brother? I shook my head in a vain attempt to clear it. “We can’t let that happen.” Ever. I could never think of this boy as my brother. Never.
Grayson nodded again, his shoulders relaxing with relief that I finally seemed to be getting it.
Brother.
Putting a hand to my forehead, I took several steps away from him before stopping, desperate for the distance. I was such an idiot. I couldn’t let myself get sucked in by a gorgeous face and a hot body. Not to mention manly smells that made me want to lick his face. No! Grayson was a player. And not only that, our parents had the hots for each other.
That just couldn’t happen. Because no matter what, Grayson could never become my step-brother. Could you even imagine? I might hate him, but my body wasn’t getting the memo. The feelings I experienced any time he came near me were unsettling. Upsetting. I’d been trying to hide it, but the chemistry between us was off the charts. What would holidays be like? I would never be able to bring a man home. What would I even say? Hey, this is Grayson. I want to jump his bones but he’s a jerk and, yeah, my brother.
What a nightmare!
“Okay, are you done freaking out yet?” Grayson asked, running his fingers through his hair. His beautiful, blonde, spiky hair that I wanted run my fingers through.
No. No, I was definitely not done freaking out yet.
“Yes.”
Dating: For the Block Page 6
