She was everything I’d ever wanted in a girl. Hot as hell. Smart and caring. The slow slide of the notes from X-rated to something more caught me off guard, but she became someone I could talk to. Someone I could share parts of myself that I didn’t share with other people. Even if she didn’t know everything about my past, she knew more than most.
No one wanted to be sexy pen pals with a former foster kid who had almost no one in the whole world. Nah, that was for the college senior, soon to be pro athlete.
Don’t ever let anyone see things bother you; I learned that in foster home number four. If everything’s a joke, there’s nothing they can do to hurt you, but losing TLG when I thought I’d finally found someone who knew me for me and actually gave a shit? That hurt. It was an unexpected squeeze on my heart every so often that made it hard to breathe.
Jules slid her hand closer, herky-jerky like she was in a stop motion animation movie before it finally landed on top of mine with a gentle pat. “Is it really that important for you to find her?”
I shrugged. “Maybe not. She probably got tired of trying to figure out my fucking chicken scratch.” I forced out a laugh through the tightness in my chest.
“Once the season starts things will be crazy for you, right?”
“You’re right. I guess I’m fixating because not much else is going on.” No, this would always be a question I needed answered. Who is TLG and did all the things we’d written about mean as much to her as they meant to me?
I slid the plastic container closer to the edge of the counter. “You’re good if I take these?”
She smiled and it shone through her eyes. “Who do you think I made them for?” Turning, she put the now empty plate into the sink.
A wave of heat spread in my chest and stopped me in my tracks. “You baked these especially for me?”
“It’s the only way I can save the rest of my cookies from your stomach. Sometimes I think a bear has been foraging in here.”
“You could always lock the door.”
She peered at me sideways with the side of her mouth quirked up. “I could.”
I stepped back, wanting to step forward. Slow your roll, Berk. This is Jules. Don’t toy with her when you’re dead set on finding TLG. “Thanks for these. I’ll get out of your hair. And I’ll be here on Friday for the thing.”
She nodded and dried off the plate in her hand.
Outside, I jogged across the street and went straight for the mailbox, flipping up the brass lid on the rectangular box next to the front door. A crater of disappointment thudded in my chest.
We’d upgraded the place a little bit now that we’d managed to keep the roving party monsters out of our house. For two years we’d had parties appear in our house like something out of Harry Potter. Blink and there’s five kegs, a DJ, and red plastic cups everywhere.
In the kitchen, I looked over my shoulder making sure no one was around and opened one of the upper cabinets beside the back door. I slid the box of kale chips aside and put the Tupperware up there, putting the chips back where they’d been. I’d learned my lesson about hoarding food in my room after the mouse fiasco of sophomore year, but that didn’t mean it was free rein on Jules’ cookies. Especially, since she’d made them for me.
The front door opened and I slammed the door shut and spun around, crossing my arms over my chest.
Keyton came in the front door with a backpack and a guitar case in his hand. He froze when he spotted me.
“I didn’t know you played.”
A muscle in his neck tightened. “I don’t.”
LJ and Marisa barreled down the steps arguing about something. Anything. Probably whether or not an ant could lift an ant-sized car or who could hold their breath the longest. They’d never learned the fine art of not sounding like they were in a wrestling match whenever they went anywhere together.
“Oh, a guitar. I didn’t know you played.” Marisa hopped down from the last step.
Keyton ducked his head. “I don’t.”
“What’s up with the guitar if you don’t play?” LJ jumped in with the question before Marisa could get it in.
Keyton shifted the case and held onto it with both hands. “I—I’m hanging onto it for a friend.”
Marisa laughed. “That’s so sweet of you. Nice and caring to do something for a friend. Storing something like that in your room when it takes up a lot of space. That’s a big deal, not something small like showing someone how to make ramen noodles or French toast.”
And just like that the conversation had nothing to do with Keyton. He took the opening to dart upstairs.
“Ris, we had to throw out that pot the last time you attempted to make pasta.”
I shuddered. The burnt smell had lingered in the house for a week.
“That’s why I need you to show me. We can make up a battle plan.”
“I’d need some armor, that’s for sure,” LJ grumbled.
I grabbed a twizzler from my stash on the counter. Food always comforted me. If I could fill my stomach, then everything would be okay. That’s what happened when you didn’t grow up with much of it.
But I had my chance. This would be my year, but there was still that faint nails-on-a-chalkboard fear that things wouldn’t pan out the way I dared to hope they would.
TLG, my senior year season as a Fulton U Trojan, the draft, and a plan I’d set in motion that could bring it all crashing down with one blown out knee. One bad grade. One fuck up.
There was a lot on the line this year. I took a bite out of the licorice and followed LJ and Marisa into the living room.
Keyton came back down, sans guitar, looking a lot less like he wanted to bolt at any second. “Anyone want a drink? I’ll get drinks.”
“We should upgrade the TV for this season. Reece’s first game is in a week.”
“I’m always up for a bigger TV.” LJ sat on the couch beside Marisa.
“Do you have ‘upgrade the TV’ money?” Marisa crossed her arms over her chest.
“Gee, thanks for asking, Mom.”
“Can you two cut down on the foreplay for five minutes?” I took another bite of my strawberry-flavored snack and wedged myself between them like a parent separating their two bickering kids. Only these two weren’t siblings or children and they wanted to bang. They hadn’t come to terms with that yet, but it was only a matter of time.
Both their heads turned and their double glare made me grin even harder and pick up the game controller off the coffee table. “I’ll take a beer and two glasses of shut the hell up for these two.”
Keyton disappeared into the kitchen with our requests and came back with three beers, and a Shirley Temple complete with maraschino cherries for Marisa.
“What college student has a coffee table? Shouldn’t this be a couple milk crates with some plywood balanced on top?” Marisa took the drink from his hand. “I’d have sworn you were a senior last year. You’re the only adult in the house.”
“I had an off-campus apartment before. I’ve been lugging things around for a while.” He slid coasters across the table for us to set our beers on.
“If everyone pitched in, it wouldn’t be so bad.” I hadn’t done my textbook buy back from last year. It would come to a whole forty bucks if I was lucky.