Megan Meade's Guide to the McGowan Boys (15 page)

“Oh,” Megan said. “Okay. We could do that sometime.”

“Next Saturday,” Regina said.

Megan blinked.

“I made appointments for us at this great little day spa downtown.” Regina took a sip of her coffee. “We're going to have the works. A facial, a massage, manicures, and pedicures. I've only been once before, but it was incredibly relaxing.”

The muscles in Megan's shoulders coiled into knots. Facials, massages, and manicures? That sounded like a whole lot of sitting still. Sitting still while random strangers
touched
her. The very idea of it made Megan feel stressed.

Besides, next Saturday the team had an all-day practice
session—the last one before their first game. They were supposed to elect a captain. It was beyond important.

“What do you think?” Regina asked eagerly.

“Oh . . . uh . . .” Megan looked down at her gnawed fingernails. “Actually, I think . . .”

She glanced at Regina. Her smile looked so hopeful and excited. This woman was practically throwing herself at Megan's feet, begging for a girly day.

Megan suddenly remembered everything the McGowans were doing for her—how very much she owed them. And she had already let them down twice.

“I think it sounds great,” Megan said finally, forcing a smile. Regina's grin widened.

“Perfect! This is going to be such fun!”

“Yeah,” Megan replied. “Can't wait.”

“You know, I have a couple of pink sweaters in my closet,” Regina said. “You can borrow them whenever you want.”

“That's okay.”

“No! You should!” Regina said brightly. “Why don't we go try them on? You can see what you think.”

“Really, I—”

“Oh, stop being so polite. I insist!” Regina said, standing. “Come on.”

Slowly Megan stood up from the table and followed Regina to the stairs.
More pink,
she thought with a sigh.
Yippee.

 *  *  *

“Just keep your head up, dude. Don't be afraid of the ball. You own the ball.”

Megan put her textbook aside and peeked through the blinds. In the yard down below, Ian stood with his shoulders hunched, clutching a baseball bat with his lips pressed closed in concentration. Doug stood a few yards away with a glove and a ball.

“Okay, ready?” Doug asked.

Ian nodded and Doug threw an arcing pitch right in Ian's strike zone. Ian pulled back and let her rip, line driving the ball right at Doug's head. Megan gasped.

“See?” Doug said smiling, rubbing his skull with one hand. “You're like a little Ortiz!”

Ian grinned unabashedly and Megan sat back. The guy in the backyard helping his little brother learn to hit just did not seem like the kind of guy who could sleep with his brother's girlfriend. Doug might hate Megan, but he obviously loved his brothers. Was it possible Jenna had just been mistaken about what she'd seen?

Megan sat forward on the window seat. She couldn't sit still anymore. She shut down her computer and headed outside to the shed. Finn had been in there for at least an hour. Maybe he was due for a break.

Both Ian and Doug froze when she walked out the back door.

“Hi,” she said. “Nice hitting.”

“Thanks,” Ian replied.

“What? Nothing about the pitching?” Doug asked.

Megan shrugged and opened the door to the shed quietly. Finn was staring, his brow creased, at his half-finished painting of Kayla Bird. He had filled in a lot of the hair and had started on the neck, but the painting was still faceless.

“Hey,” she said quietly.

“Hey,” Finn said, glancing over his shoulder. He had the end of a paintbrush clenched between his teeth. “You're just in time.”

“For what?” she asked as she slipped inside.

“My nervous breakdown,” Finn said with a wry smile, dropping his paintbrush onto the easel's shelf. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and sat down on an old garden bench that was pushed up against the wall. “I suck. Did you know that you are in the presence of a person who completely and utterly sucks?”

“Ouch,” Megan said, wincing. She glanced at face-free Kayla. It was actually pretty freaky to look at—just the bare minimum of her facial features sketched out with pencil, surrounded by all that detail, all those colors.

“I thought after last night, you know, if I went out with her, that I would be inspired and I might actually finish this one, but . . .” Finn threw up a hand toward the painting and sighed. “I got nothing.”

“So the date wasn't inspiring?”

“Apparently not,” Finn said, wiping his palms on his jeans.

“So . . . what happened?” Megan asked, climbing onto the stool.

“I don't know, I just felt like . . .” Finn sat forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. “I felt like she was kind of looking down on me. She wasn't having fun at the party, fine. So we go to Starbucks and we're talking and it's like she's been all over the world, you know? And she kept asking me, have I been here, have I been there?”

“And you haven't been here or there.”

“Or anywhere,” Finn said, smiling wanly. “There's not a whole lot of world traveling with seven kids. It's pretty much Cape Cod and Florida.”

“Right,” Megan said. “Well, did you tell her that?”

“Yeah, I cracked a joke about it, but I could tell she was disappointed,” Finn said. “It's like I'm some kind of leper just because I've never skied Vail or seen the Eiffel Tower.”

“Oh, overrated,” Megan said.

“You've seen it?” Finn asked.

“When I was a kid.”

“That's right—you've been everywhere too,” Finn said. Then he smirked. “Maybe you should go out with her.”

“I don't think she's my type.”

Finn laughed and Megan beamed.

“Well, she's definitely not a soccer party kind of girl; that much I know.” His eyes dropped down and he picked at a dried paint chip on the leg of his jeans.

Megan took a deep breath. “Look, Finn, I have lived in a lot of places and I've met a lot of people and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that some people will always find a way to feel like they're better than everyone else around them,” she said. “It sounds like Kayla is one of those people. She doesn't get that just because you have different experiences . . . because you like one thing and she likes another, that doesn't make her better. It just makes the two of you different.” Megan bit her lip. “Did that make any sense?”

“Yeah, it did,” Finn said.

“And if she thinks she's better than you, then she is just wrong,” Megan said. “And not worth it.”

Finn looked up at Megan and suddenly she felt totally self-conscious. But she meant everything she had said. She knew she was right. But something about the way he was looking at her was making her feel like he could see under her skin.

“Can I paint you?” Finn asked.

Megan blinked. “Okay, that's basically the last thing I ever thought you were gonna say.”

Finn was on his feet and removing Kayla's painting from the easel before the rush of heat had eased from Megan's face. Suddenly he was a flurry of motion, cleaning brushes, squirting paint onto his palette, crumpling paper towels and launching them toward an overflowing trash can in the corner.

“So, can I?” he asked.

“Uh . . . I guess,” Megan said, already feeling awkward.

If there was one thing Megan wasn't, it was a model. She had never seen a freckle-faced, broad-shouldered, thick-calved girl in the pages of Tracy's fashion mags. Not once.

Finn was busily arranging his easel, which faced the back wall. Megan started to push herself off her stool. “Should I—?”

“No! No. Stay right there,” Finn said. He picked up his easel and turned it so that the back of the contraption was facing her and her stool. “That's good. I like the light right there.”

Megan glanced up at the skylight and the blue sky beyond. “Am I gonna have to sit still for this?” she asked. “'Cuz I'm not very good at that.”

Finn grinned and peeked at her over the top of his clean canvas. “Don't worry. We'll figure it out.”

Megan sat and watched Finn as he worked, sketching her
outline, the pencil scraping lightly against the cloth. He was riveted, concentrating, but his arms and hands seemed to move of their own volition. Watching him was mesmerizing. Even when he looked up at her, she found that she couldn't tear her eyes away. She kept catching his glance, looking directly into his eyes. Megan's skin grew warm under his intense scrutiny. She lifted her ponytail off the back of her neck to get some air and the ends of her hair tickled her skin. Her breath came quick and shallow.

“You okay?” he asked.

Megan instantly blushed and averted her gaze. “Yeah, fine.”

“'Cuz we can stop if you don't want to do this,” Finn replied.

“No, I'm . . . I'm okay,” Megan said. Truth be told, everything inside her and around her felt charged. She could have sat there all day.

“Good,” Finn said.

Megan's whole body felt a pleasant, tingling warmth. For a split second, neither of them moved.

The sound of shouting voices obliterated the silence. Megan turned to look toward the door of the shed. The shouting was coming from inside the house and getting closer. Finally the back door creaked open and slammed and the argument went into stereo surround sound.

“Are you gonna tell me the truth? Are you gonna tell me the truth?” Evan shouted over and over again.

Finn dropped his pencil and ran out of the shed, Megan right on his heels. Doug and Evan were going toe-to-toe in the center of the yard. Evan's eyes were wild as he glared down at Doug, whose skin was blotchy and red. Their faces
were millimeters away from each other. Ian had fled the scene.

“Tell me, man. Tell me what happened,” Evan said, shoving Doug with both hands.

“Evan!” Finn shouted.

“You already know, man. Why you doggin' me?” Doug shouted, stepping toward him again.

“'Cuz I wanna hear you say it,” Evan replied. “I want my little brother to tell me to my face that he banged my girlfriend, that's why.”

“What?” Finn said under his breath.

The back door of the garage opened and Sean walked out, wiping his greasy hands on an even greasier rag. He shot Finn an inquisitive look and Finn just shrugged. Megan felt sick to her stomach. Apparently she was the only one here who knew what was going on.

“Come on, man! Come on!” Evan shoved Doug again and again until Doug was tripping backward.

“Fine!” Doug shouted, slamming Evan in the chest with both hands so that Evan had to take a few steps to steady himself. “Fine! It's true! I banged your girlfriend and when I was done, she begged for more! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Evan screamed and launched himself at Doug, tackling him backward and slamming him into the ground. Megan shouted out as Finn and Sean raced toward the smackdown. By the time they got there, Evan had already slammed his fist into Doug's face multiple times. His knuckles were bloody. Doug's nose was a wash of red.

“Get off him, man! Get off him!” Sean shouted, trying to grab Evan's flailing arms.

“I hate you, you selfish little punk-ass loser!” Evan shouted as he pounded on Doug like a man possessed. “You make me sick!”

Finally Sean got Evan in a two-arm lock and hauled him off Doug, kicking and shouting the whole way. Finn helped his little brother sit up. The blood was everywhere. Finn ripped off his own shirt, balled it up, and held it under Doug's nose.

“What the hell happened, man?” Finn asked, catching his breath.

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” Evan shouted at Doug.

Doug pushed himself clumsily to his feet, clutching the T-shirt to his face. “You're such a hypocrite asshole,” he spat at Evan.

“I'm an asshole?” Evan shouted. “You had sex with
my
girlfriend in the freakin' woods and I'm the asshole?”

“You were up in the bedroom swapping spit with new girl, playah!” Doug yelled, throwing a hand toward Megan. “Hailey threw herself at me all cryin' and shit. Whaddya want me to do?”

“What?!” Evan and Megan blurted at the same time.

“You moved on, brotha,” Doug said, pointing at Evan. “Don't blame your fickle ass on me.”

“Who told you that?” Evan said, shaking Sean off and advancing on Doug again. “Who said I was messing around with Megan?”

Doug's tough demeanor faltered for the first time. “Hailey. Hailey did. She said you cheated on her. You guys were done.”

Evan looked at the ground. “I don't freakin' believe this,” he said under his breath. “I don't freakin'
believe
this!” he shouted.

He turned and blew by Megan and Sean, heading for his car at
the end of the driveway. As they all stood there, dumbfounded, they heard him peel out, heard the angry honk of a horn, and didn't move until the sound of his engine had faded into nothing.

“It's not true,” Megan said finally. “Evan and I didn't hook up.” She looked Doug in the eye and felt like the sadness inside her chest was going to overwhelm her. “Hailey lied to you,” she said. “She lied.”

Doug just stood there for a moment, breathing rapidly, looking so confused Megan almost sorry for him.

“I didn't—I didn't know . . .” Doug stammered. For a split second Megan could see the depth of the regret in his eyes. He knew he had made a mistake. A really huge mistake. He closed his eyes tightly.

“Doug, I'm sure—”

“Screw this,” he said, his words muffled by the blood-soaked T-shirt. Then he turned away from them and ran into the house.

Finn let out a shaky breath and sat down on one of the lounge chairs on the patio, hanging his head.