Line Change, page 6
“We can when we don’t see each other every day. I have no idea what goes on when I’m not here.”
And now I’m pissed. “So, what, you don’t trust me?”
Adam throws down his spoon, leans back in his chair and crosses his arms and I can see we’re not going to agree on this subject.
“No. I’m saying, I don’t trust him!”
“No, Adam,” I reply. “You’re saying you don’t trust me, because regardless of what Kyler says or does—or anyone else for that matter—you think I don’t have the intelligence to look after myself and deal with the situation.”
I take a deep breath and count to five before continuing. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. Who knows when we’ll see each other again? Can we just let this go?”
Adam sighs and looks out toward the beach, seemingly thinking it over, before answering.
“Sure. Whatever.”
We finish eating our meal in relative silence, making polite and awkward conversation here and there before paying the bill. Adam drops me back at the house, collects his things, and starts the drive home. He leaves me with a quick peck on the cheek and a, “See ya soon,” and I watch him go with a sinking feeling of regret at how things were left between us.
An hour later, the door bursts open and Jude walks in followed by some of the others on the hockey team and Millie walking in behind them. I raise my eyebrow because apparently, her and hockey don’t mix; yet here she is, hanging out with half the team.
“What?” she says with a shrug. “I was on my way to see you, and your brother saw me and gave me a ride. Saved me walking the rest of the way.”
“Sure, Mills,” I reply. “You keep telling yourself that.” Maybe her and hockey do mix more than she cares to admit.
“Hey!” Jude shouts while standing in the hallway. “Dev, Nole, Ky! Street hockey in ten!”
I wasn’t aware anyone else was at home, so am surprised to hear heavy footsteps running down the stairs. Devon and Nolan appear, both dressed in shorts and red T-shirts.
“Yessssss!” Nolan says enthusiastically. “I need something to get me out of this post-party funk. Oh, hey Millie, Thea. You up for being cheerleaders today?”
“Chanting and doing flips, no,” Millie tells him. “But I can be persuaded to sit on the front lawn and offer my support, right Thea?”
“Sure,” I say. “Sounds good. I may even make some lemonade if I feel you’ve played well enough to earn it.”
“Thea’s homemade lemonade? Definitely an incentive to win,” Devon adds.
I hear another set of footsteps walk down the stairs and am shocked to see Kyler appear at the doorway. It’s a rarity to catch sight of him in daylight, let alone actually deciding to be social and join in with the fun. Still, I guess these are his teammates and he’s comfortable hanging out with them. He’s dressed differently than Devon and Nolan and is wearing gray sweatpants and a dark blue T-shirt. Obviously, he’s decided he’s playing for the opposing team today. He doesn’t acknowledge anyone, instead going to the hallway closet where they keep all their hockey gear, and grabs four hockey sticks, one for each of them. No one acknowledges him as he skulks passed with his head down and out the front door.
“Oooh-kay then, I guess it’s been decided. Game’s about to start.” Nolan laughs as he follows Ky and the others outside. Millie and I grab some blankets after quickly making up a couple of pitchers of lemonade, lay them on the lawn and sit down while the others decide on teams.
Unlike ice hockey, street hockey is played without any protective equipment, and teams are decided by shirts and skins. Nolan and Devon team up with Brad March and Mike Dowling; and Jude and Ky are on a team with Saul Frisch and Mikko Fox. With Brad, Mike, Saul, and Mikko living so close, street hockey is a regular occurrence between the two households. Nolan and his team leave their shirts on, while Jude and the others take theirs off.
Even though I attempt to take no notice of Kyler removing his shirt, my eyes don’t get the message and immediately lock onto him. His right hand reaches back to grip the material between his shoulders and in one fluid motion he pulls his tee over his head and drops it to the floor. He has a swimmer’s body—nicely defined and not stacked with muscles. There’s a tattoo on his shoulder, an intricate design of vines which intertwines with the tattoo of the lion on his bicep. My breath stutters as my eyes continue their perusal down to his forearms—a weak point of mine, because armporn is a real thing. The only other indication of hair on his torso is the dark brown line leading into his Adonis belt. I clamp my jaw shut and try to keep my expression as neutral as possible. The air around me has suddenly become unbearably hot, and with a surreptitious wave of my hand to fan my face, I force myself to look at what’s going on around me.
After constructing some makeshift goalposts with towels brought outside by Jude, each of them takes their position; Jude and Brad in goal, and the others dotted around the street. In the center, Ky faces off against Mike with their choice of puck—a tennis ball—at their feet. After knocking their sticks three times, play starts and Ky gets to the ball first, hitting it with force to Saul, who runs it toward Mikko. Mikko takes a shot at goal and the ball flies through. If I thought ice hockey was fast, street hockey is a close second. These guys sure know their game and are a force to be reckoned with. Even though this is all for fun, I know each one of them is taking it seriously. Especially the tall, dark, disheveled one standing front and center. The game continues, and the teams are evenly matched, which promises us an entertaining and thrilling afternoon. After thirty minutes of exhaustive play, Jude calls time for a ten-minute refreshment break and we pour some lemonades and hand them out. All except one willingly take a glass. He’s standing across the street, holding his hockey stick behind his head and resting it on both shoulders with a sheen of sweat glistening off his body in the afternoon sun. My eyes can’t help but trace the tattoo on his shoulder, and I wonder if there’s a story behind the intricate ink.
“What’s with you and Kyler?” Millie asks me quietly, interrupting my perusing.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Girl, please. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed him staring at you every time there’s a break in play? It’s like he’s trying to do a Jacob and imprint on you or something.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I reply. “He’s probably just looking at one of the others for some kind of direction in play or something.”
Millie laughs in response. “Sure, believe whatever you want, but I’m telling you. That boy cannot keep his eyes off of you. It’s like he’s obsessed. And you seem to be doing everything in your power to ignore him.”
“No, I’m not!” I reply quickly.
“Yes, you are. I see you both, you know. Him with his intense stare, you with your avoidance tactics. It’s ridiculous. Honestly, the electric charge between the pair of you is fierce enough to cause a power outage down the entire street.”
I look over toward Kyler and noticed he’s moved from his position and is no longer standing across the street. I take a quick glance to both sides and can’t see him anywhere. Maybe he’s decided he’s had enough for the day.
“That for me?” his deep voice sounds quietly behind me, quickly awakening a blanket of goosebumps across my neck. I glance to my right to check where Millie is before turning around. The last thing I need is to fuel her ridiculous fantasy.
“Sure,” I say to him, as I hand him the cool glass of lemonade. He takes it and downs the liquid in one smooth gulp. He never breaks eye contact with me and it feels like the most intense, isolating moment between us. The others melt away and it’s just me and Kyler in a little bubble. Yet, as soon as it starts, it quickly dissipates, and Jude claps his hands and calls for the second half to start. Kyler places the glass on the tray and walks back to the middle of the street without another word, leaving me to wonder what the hell just happened.
“Nothing going on, huh?” Millie whispers quietly beside me, and I just roll my eyes in response, because it’s clear she’s not going to let this go.
The game continues and every time my eyes find Kyler, I realize Millie is right. When he’s not in play, he’s looking at me; not moving, not paying attention to anything around him. It’s only when the ball comes hurling toward him, he focuses on the game without a blink of the eye. It’s unnerving, but it’s also thrilling. And the more I look, the more I find myself wishing for the intense bubble to form around us again, just as it did when he drank the lemonade earlier.
After an hour or so the game finally comes to an end with a victory for Jude’s team, much to my brother’s delight. He whoops and cheers along with the others and backslaps are traded all round.
“Let’s have a barbecue,” Devon suggests as the others begin to clear away the makeshift goals.
“Good idea,” Jude replies.
“I agree,” I say. “I’m pretty sure we have enough things in the fridge to make a salad or two.”
“Cool, I’ll drive to the store and get some other supplies so we can set up,” Nolan offers. Devon agrees, offering to go with him.
The rest pile into the house and straight out to the back yard. I start to pick up the blankets we were sitting on, and see Kyler unlock his car and throw his belongings on the passenger seat.
“Please don’t tell me this means you’re skipping out on mealtime again?” I ask him with a playful tone in my voice.
“I have someplace to be,” is all he says as he gets into the driver’s seat and buckles up. “Save me a plate?” he asks, closing the door and not giving me a chance to reply. He switches on the engine and backs out of the driveway.
I’m frustrated because even after all this time, he’s still a closed book, seemingly only participating in the minimum of activities. And I’m irritated at myself because I know even though I’m annoyed, I’ll still plate him up some leftovers and leave them for him to have when he decides to come back home later tonight.
eight
Kyler
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know what’s going on upstairs. But I am a moron for thinking Thea wouldn’t have sex with her boyfriend in the house. That’s what I did, most of the night, while I failed at not watching her. I put myself through hell picturing the puny guy putting his hands on her bare skin. I groan and reach for my phone. The screen lights up and shows it’s a little after four in the morning and there’s no way I’m going back to sleep until they’re done—which I’m hoping will be soon. I never want my friends to pump and dump but man, I am down on my knees praying this fool can’t last longer than thirty seconds.
The thirty seconds pass and the squeaking from Thea’s bed continues. “Fuck my life.” I bring my phone to life and go to her social media page. She added me as a friend the other day and I waited until midnight to accept even though I saw it right away. I don’t know why I didn’t look at her page before now because if I had, the boyfriend wouldn’t have been such a surprise. I click on their pictures and study their body language. Thea looks like she’s into him, but he seems standoffish. Of course, I’m probably looking for reasons they shouldn’t be together. Which, I don’t get. She means nothing to me. Thea is a roommate and one of my best friends’ sisters. These thoughts I have about her need to stop. The only reason she keeps popping in my head is because she’s a good cook.
And she’s fucking hot.
The squeak stops. “Wow, a whole minute. Poor Thea probably didn’t even get off.” I continue to scroll and finally click on his name. I’m surprised his page isn’t private. This guy is giving me full access to his life, and he doesn’t even care. I don’t even know why I hate him. Oh, yes, I do. He’s fucking rich. Driving around in daddy’s Maserati. I didn’t even look to see what kind of car he rolled up here in. I’m sure it’s a BMW or some shit like that. Something I can’t afford, at least at the moment.
He's touching Thea right now, moving between her legs, kissing her in places my mind has wandered. I hate it. I hate every single second of what’s going on upstairs. I want a night with her, where nothing in our lives will affect what we do. She doesn’t know me. I don’t know her. And then, nothing more. I won’t need anything from her again.
“You’re lying to yourself,” I say to my empty room. “And you’re talking to yourself.”
I need to get some sleep, but I’m on the cusp of a deep dive on this jackass’s page. There are pictures of him with other girls and when I look at who liked the photo, Thea’s name doesn’t show up. Interesting.
Almost every photo has comments on it and the same one appears over and over, “Where’s Austin?” Who the hell is Austin? I click a few more profiles trying to figure out who this mystery guy is, but nothing comes up. After a few more scrolls, I give up and put my phone back on its charger. I’m about to close my eyes when I hear movement upstairs. So help me, if they start going at it again, I’m going to pound on the ceiling.
Except I would never. The last thing I want to do is embarrass Thea. Banging on the ceiling or saying something will without a doubt mortify her. The floor creaks and there’s some muffled voices, and then a door closes. I roll onto my side, taking my pillow with me. Tomorrow, I’m going to borrow Devon’s noise canceling headphones. I need some sleep.
A loud thud startles me awake and Jude yells, “Dev, Nole, Ky! Street hockey in ten!”
Fuck. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. A ceiling I now hate. I know way too much about what goes on in the room above me and I’d love to find a way to erase my knowledge. I dress in the first thing I can find off the floor—a pair of gray sweatpants and a dark blue T-shirt. I’ll opt for no shirt once we start playing since we’ll end up splitting teams and one side has to be fully clothed.
My footsteps are heavy. I hope whoever is on my team is ready to carry us because I’m not sure I can get out of my own way right now. I need sleep, but I also don’t want to pass up an opportunity to chill with my friends.
What a pleasant surprise it is when I get downstairs, I find the rich boy gone. In fact, I’m sure I smile at the fact. That is until I see Thea eyeing me. I pretend I don’t see her and go right to the closet to grab my gear and some hockey sticks. I didn’t greet any of my other roommates. Why should she be special?
We get everything set up and teams picked, and half of us take our shirts off. Of course, Jude is on my team, which means it’s my job to score and his job to block this damn yellow ball from crossing the imaginary line. I look behind me and nod toward my goalie, and then face Mike. We tap our sticks three times to start the game. Mike is too slow, and I’ve sent the ball sailing toward Saul, who handles the ball until Mikko frees himself. Saul passes and Mikko sends the ball through the goal. The game goes back and forth, until Jude yells for a break. These guys are overexerting themselves just for bragging rights. I’m content to hang back and let them do all the work.
Thea and Millie are handing out glasses of lemonade. I need to put a wall up between us and decide to stay on the other side of the street. My shoulders are tight and need to be stretched. I put my stick behind my head and hang my wrists over the edge and bend back slightly, to the left, and then to the right. Millie isn’t shy about staring. I know exactly when she says something to Thea about me because her head pops up and she tries to act like she’s not mesmerized by me. It’s comical, honestly. She’s trying to not gawk and keeps looking away. As soon as she does, I dodge behind a car and wait for a second. Through the window of the car, I watch her frantically look for me. With her distracted, I make my way back to the yard and sneak up behind her.
“That for me?” I point to the last glass of lemonade on her tray.
“Sure.” She hands me the glass. I bring it to my lips and drink, never taking my eyes off her. This is probably the best damn glass of lemonade I’ve ever had, and I’m sure it’s because she made it. I really need to put some distance between us because my mind is out of control if I’m judging a fruit drink.
Nope, I’m judging her. Or at least I’m trying not to but each time I glance over, Thea is staring at me. Honestly, I like it. She makes me feel desirable in a way that’s different than when I’m being hit on. Those women are after one thing, which is what I want from Thea and will never have.
Play starts again and after a while the other team scores and I go get the ball from Jude. “I gotta go, man.”
“All right. I’ll call game.”
I walk back to the center and get ready to set the ball down when Jude yells, “Game.” He jumps up and down. We taunt the other guys and give everyone high fives. Devon yells that the house is having a barbeque and I’m instantly pissed. I haven’t seen the douchebag all day, which leads me to believe he’s gone, and while I’d really enjoy the torture of being near Thea, I have to work. I took last night off, and the missing tips will cost me. I head over to where I left my shirt and grab it along with my wallet and keys off the ground.
My car is an older Camry. There isn’t anything fancy about it except the power windows and locks. If I want to listen to music, I have to use an aux cable and if I lock the doors, I have to use a key. No fob for me. I suppose Thea is used to the finer things in life if she’s dating the rich boy. I unlock and open the door, toss my wallet and shirt onto the passenger-side seat.
“Please don’t tell me this means you’re skipping out on mealtime again?”
I glance over the roof and find Thea standing there. I fully expect her to have her hands on her hips in a scolding manner. Even though she looks relaxed, there’s a tightness in her eyes giving me the impression she’s a bit peeved. “I have someplace to be,” I tell her as I slide behind the driver’s seat. “Save me a plate?” I don’t even know why I asked her because I have a feeling she’ll do it regardless, even when I’m being a colossal jerk to her. Everything would be easier if she wrote me off, then I wouldn’t have to try to push her away or keep this concrete wall up between us. Honestly, it’s just for the best.
