I stuff my journal into my bag, then shrug it over my shoulder as I walk out into the hall. Our meeting ran a little late, so most of the students have already gone back to class after lunch, but as I turn the corner, I see Christian and Baker arguing in hushed tones. I take a step back, peeking around the wall. Christian fists Baker’s collar, shoving him up against a locker. For a second, I think he’s going to hit him, but then he releases him, taking a step back. Baker shoves him away, straightening his shirt.
“Don’t forget who made you who you are,” Christian threatens. “You were fucking nothing. I can take you down just as quick.”
“Back at you,” Baker sneers.
All of a sudden, a class door slams behind me, drawing both their attention. Two sets of angry eyes lock onto mine, and I know I’m caught. I don’t bother pretending otherwise. Christian works his jaw, glaring in my direction, and then he’s storming off in the opposite direction. Baker hesitates, pinning me with a look I can’t decode before disappearing into the classroom to the right of the lockers.
What the hell was that about? Their friendship has never made sense to me, and this only adds to my confusion.
I hurry to my last period, quietly slipping into class and taking the empty desk next to Holden, who tosses me a wink. I wonder if he’s in on whatever’s going on with Christian and Baker, or if he’s in the dark like I am. I make a mental note to ask him about it later.
An hour later, the bell rings, and Holden and I walk out of class together. Valen has a cheer thing, and I won’t see her tonight, so we head straight for the student parking lot.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Holden says, stopping short. I stop with him, looking at him expectantly. He reaches into his pocket before producing a small bundle of black fabric, then he’s dangling it from his index finger. “I think these belong to you.”
My cheeks burn when I realize he’s holding my shorts from the other night and my hand shoots out to snatch them from him. “What the hell!” I stuff them into my backpack, looking around to make sure no one else just saw Holden Ames returning what will surely appear to be my underwear to onlookers.
“What?” he asks with mock sincerity. “I found these bad boys stuffed in the couch cushion. Thought you might want them back.”
I flatten my lips, speed walking toward my car, and I hear his chuckle behind me.
“Come on, Shayne.” He laughs, catching up to me.
“You’re an asshole.”
“It’s funny, though. I don’t recall you taking your clothes off on my couch. Seems like something I’d remember.” He arches one dark eyebrow, his eyes roaming my body. “Could it be that a certain movie got you all worked up?”
I snort. “You wish.”
“I mean, I get it. It got me hot, too, but next time don’t wait for me to pass out before you take care of it. I’m more than happy to lend my services.”
“God, you’re gross,” I say, rolling my eyes, both relieved and embarrassed that he thinks I masturbated on his couch while he was asleep rather than hooking up with his brother.
“It’s part of my charm,” he says, gripping his chest.
He has a point.
“On a serious note…” he says as I hop into the driver’s seat. He stands between me and the door, one hand braced on the top of my car. “Next week.”
It’s all he has to say. Next week is the one-year anniversary of Danny’s death. Sometimes it feels like a lifetime has passed, and other times only seconds. I nod in understanding, waiting for him to continue.
“The school’s planning some memorial tribute thing for Danny. I don’t know if you have a game or whatever—”
“Don’t be an idiot, Holden. Of course I’ll be there.” I jerk on his shirt, pulling him in for a hug. He locks both arms around my head, holding me to his chest, the scent of his cologne and deodorant smothering me.
“Okay, okay,” I say, shoving him off me, and then he’s mussing up my hair with his heavy palm before throwing my door shut and walking away.
Maybe it’s Danny’s anniversary. Maybe it’s the fact that for the first time in a long time I feel like I have a piece of my family back, but instead of being happy or content, I feel…like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like it’s all going to be taken from me again. It’s only a matter of when.
Thayer
“So, should I just expect you here all the time now?” my dad asks as I’m walking through the front door, before I’ve even had the chance to put my keys down.
“Something on your mind, old man?” I’m not in the mood for this shit. I run a hand through my hair, shaking the rain out of it.
He pours two fingers of whiskey into a tumbler, setting the bottle down with a loud thud against the countertop. I take one look at his bloodshot eyes and know he’s had a few more before that one. He wasn’t ever around much to begin with, and I preferred it that way, but since Danny’s death, here’s here even less. On the rare occasion he is around, he’s hammered—not that I blame him. His wife abandoned him and his kids, and then his favorite son died. That’s not including countless failed relationships and one failed engagement. Life hasn’t exactly been a picnic for him.
“Just that you’re home an awful lot lately for someone who’s going to school on my dime.”