Authors: Rachel Higginson
“I thought you grew out of this behavior,” she said quietly while the dishes of food were passed around.
“Me too,” I offered helpfully. “I’m ashamed of you both.”
Beckett and Grayson grunted something unintelligible but kept their eyes on their food. We ate and listened to Beckett recount his weekend of games, telling us of his glory. Grayson and my mom stayed rapt in his story but my attention wandered.
I understood every sport thanks to growing up in a house full of boys, but I couldn’t really enjoy many of them. I watched track finals sometimes, when they were on TV and I happened to be near one. And I was glued to the Olympics every four years. But for the most part I enjoyed an easy-going lifestyle that was free of competition.
My brothers were the opposite.
And for every glory moment Beckett had this weekend, Grayson had one just as great or better during his glory days. And if Lennox was here the one-upping would have been out of control.
Still they were all proud of each other in that I’m-never-going-to-tell-you way.
“Is most of the family coming down for Regionals?” Beckett asked and that got my attention.
“Yes, I think so. We’re renting a condo and so is your Aunt Candy and Uncle Brent. Between the two houses, I think they’re completely full. The twins and Carter want to stay with you Grayson. And I think Whitney and Catherine are hoping to stay with you, Ellie.” My mom had this casual way of telling me my apartment had just been given away to two of the snobbiest people in the state.
And even though they were cousins around my age, there was no way I could even wrap my head around an entire weekend with those two. When I was in junior high they looked down on me because I owned a dress from Old Navy. And when I was a senior in high school they sneered at my at my boyfriend because he wasn’t going Ivy League, at me because I had a partial scholarship, at my spring break destination and anything and everything else they could. I couldn’t let them into my apartment under
any
circumstances.
The thing was, my parents had the least amount of money out of their siblings and so we were already pitied. If those girls got near my unfurnished apartment or were forced to ride in my seven year old car, I would never hear the end of it!
“Which weekend is it?” I asked casually.
“Next,” my mother replied.
That was good news. “I can make it to all of Beckett’s games, but they can’t stay with me. Britte is moving in with me that weekend.”
“Oh Britte is moving in with you?” my mother asked sounding like she approved. But she still asked, “But are you sure that’s wise?”
“Do you need help moving?” Grayson asked. He was the sweetest of all my brother’s, always offering help before I could ask for it.
“No, I think she asked some of her guy friends,” I improvised. She had let me know immediately after lunch last week that she enlisted Fin and Jameson and possibly Charlie, but he was more like a soft yes. Which boy speak said strong no.
“I don’t mind helping,” Grayson pushed.
“I’ll call you if we need you,” I smiled up at him. There was no way I was letting him in the same room as Fin. Even if Fin was on his best behavior, the whole scenario spelled disaster for me.
“Who are the guys that are helping?” Beckett asked and I could have killed him.
“Some of Britte’s friends,” I repeated. I didn’t want to lie, but I would to save my own ass. Most likely that made me a coward.
“I’m one of her friends, she didn’t ask me,” Beckett sneered.
Oh no. Not this again. “You’re not one of her friends. You’re not even one of
my
friends. Plus, last time you saw her, you yelled at her!”
“Beckett!” My mother gasped. “You yelled at Britte? That’s not like you.”
Beckett rubbed two hands over his face and mumbled something I couldn’t understand. Grayson watched him carefully, which set off all kinds of alarm bells in my head. Beckett was one thing, but Grayson paying attention was an entirely different/worse thing.
Sometimes my brothers got along. And sometimes, in situations far and few between, they really got along. Usually, when all three of my brothers stood together, united in some cause, they were unstoppable. Most of the time, because they protected me above most other things, this worked out for me, like when they beat up Colton after he dumped me. But on the rare occasion, when they teamed up, or like now, when Grayson bailed Beckett out for who knows what reason, I was sacrificed for a greater cause, given to the wolves, thrown under the proverbial bus.
“I saw you eating lunch with Hunter last week, Ellie.” Grayson’s voice dropped to a fatherly pitch that made it clear how disappointed he was in me.
“Hunter?” Beckett snapped, his hands not in front of his face anymore and furiously gripping the table.
“Mmm, which day?” I asked, hoping for vague.
“Why? Do you eat lunch with him often?” Beckett grated.
Shoot. “Oh, you must mean Wednesday.” I shoved a bite of fried chicken in my mouth.
“Who is this Hunter anyway?” My mom looked betrayed, like I kept some huge secret from her on purpose. Ok, it was on purpose….
“He’s a guy, from, uh, school.” I averted all their eyes.
“That you eat lunch with?” My mother, the detective.
“Once, I ate lunch with him once. And really, I was just tagging along. Britte wanted to eat lunch with them and she bought my lunch.” There, now I was throwing people under the bus.
“Them?” My mom and Beckett asked together.
“Fin and his friends. They all run track together. Jameson McKay, Charlie Ryan and Gunner Gu-, no Ben Gunning.” My mother started to ask more questions but my brothers made grumbling sounds of disapproval. “We’re just
friends
.”
“But he wants to be more,” Grayson asked, suddenly calm and collected. Where Beckett was all impulsive anger and reactive action, Grayson was thoughtful and calculating. Silence and reserve were deadly on Grayson.
“I don’t know what he wants,” I answered honestly. And I didn’t. After last Thursday when he went from acting like my boyfriend to practically recoiling from my touch. I officially had no idea what he wanted.
Beckett snorted. “How many times do I have to tell you, he’s bad news, Els?”
“You’ve told me enough times. However many it’s been, that’s been enough. What do you have against him anyway?”
“Plenty,” Beckett growled.
“What does that even mean?” I sighed, giving my mom a beseeching glance.
“It means whatever it is was probably over a girl and he’s embarrassed to talk about,” Grayson interpreted.
“Oh, Ok. I get it.” I smirked at Beckett even though the idea of Fin with another girl was giving me indigestion. I knew that didn’t make sense since I had been reminding myself that he was with other girls frequently. Earlier today I had even confirmed- as Fin- for a date later tonight.
But now it made me feel all icky inside.
“It wasn’t over a girl,” Beckett defended.
“Beckett, dear,” my mom looked at him over the bridge of her nose and he slunk down into his chair with his arms crossed. Classic Beckett pout.
“Fine, it was over a girl,” he mumbled.
With that settled we fell into easy conversation and I was thankful the issue of Fin wasn’t brought up again, although both of my brothers were giving me discerning looks.
After lunch Beckett fell asleep on Grayson’s couch while mom and I took over the dishes and Grayson chatted with us some more in the kitchen. Once the dishes were done and the food stored away I felt like I could escape without making much fuss. I walked casually over to my purse and picked it up.
“I better go, I have to study,” I announced.
“Oh, I suppose,” mom sighed but she stepped forward to give me a hug. “We will see you next weekend. And if you can get away, your father and I are going to fly to Beckett’s super-regionals; we would love for you to come. It’s not for a while yet though, you have time to think about it.”
“I’ll think about it. It probably depends on how long you’ll be gone and what week it is.” Or I probably wouldn’t think about it.
“I’ll walk you down, Els,” Grayson offered. Which was nice, but maybe too nice.
“Ok. Bye, Becks!” I called over my shoulder and got a grunt and a half wave in return.
Down in front of my car, Grayson looked me over trying to read something again. I crossed my eyes at him, hoping he would stop but he just smiled at me like I was an entertaining child.
“I have something I want you to give to Hunter tomorrow,” Grayson instructed once I had my keys out.
“I probably won’t see him.” Complete lie. My pants were about to start on fire.
“Don’t you have class?”
“Well, yes.” This felt like a trap.
“Then your chances of seeing him are greater than my chances. He’ll be around campus, just find him, give him this,” he held up a white, sealed envelope, “And then you’ve done me a favor. I’ll owe you.”
“Oh great,” I enthused dryly. “Can’t wait to cash in on that.”
He ignored my sarcasm, “Will you give it to him?”
“If I can find him,” I agreed and then snatched the envelope from his hand.
“Ellie,” Grayson started and I knew it was going to be serious because “Ellie” was basically my first, middle and last name to Grayson who only ever called me “Els.” “I don’t think he’s the guy that Beckett thinks he is.”
He let that sink in until I was forced to finally say, “Ok.”
“But from what I know of him, he’s not good enough for you either.” His tone was so solemn, so sincere that I had to agree with him.
“Ok.”
He studied me for a moment longer and I fought not to cringe under his intensity. “See you later, Els,” he finally said and then pulled me into a bear hug.
“Yeah, later Gray.”
----
I turned my phone on as soon as I got home. I had it shut off the entire weekend just on the off chance Fin would happen to text while I was with my mom or brothers. That would be hard for other people, not being connected for several days in a row, but it was easy for me. I liked hiding out, not answering texts or phone calls. It was freeing.
Besides, Britte had been holed up all weekend studying and she was the only one I cared about hearing from anyway.
The texts started pouring in as soon as my phone had a chance to warm up.
I waded through Britte’s study break gibberish and random Biology facts and ignored the two from Colton. I could only imagine what he had to say to me. There was one from Beckett about lunch earlier, but I guess he figured that out and one from my dad telling me how much he wished he could have come down with mom this weekend. There was even one from Lennox with another offer to pay my rent.
I texted back to that one. It said: middle finger.
And then there were the ones from Fin….
Friday he said this:
I hate how we left things yesterday. I’m not that much of a jackass.