Chase: A Devil & his Birdie: Havenwood University Book Two

Chapter 4

MY ALARM IS SCREAMING at me to wake the hell up and I reach for my phone to silence the obnoxious sound. I peel my dry eyes open and I curse myself when I realize I’m shutting down my morning skate alarm and not my early morning run alarm. I must have slept through my 3:45 AM wake-up call.

“Today already fucking sucks,” I mumble to myself while stretching my arms out.

“Saturday skate boys, let’s go! I’m leaving in ten,” Jake yells throughout the house to make sure we’re all up.

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself and the piles of dirty clothes strewn across my carpeted floor. I haven’t done laundry in weeks and just wear what I ran in last night and slept in. Whatever. I push my feet into my sneakers, pocket my phone, and go down the hall to the bathroom to take a piss and brush my teeth.

“You”re scowling more than usual this morning, you okay?” Jake says to me when I walk through the front door and out onto our porch. He locks it behind us and hands me a water bottle. “Here you forgot to grab this,” he offers but holds onto it when he asks to keep my attention.

“I’m fine,” I tell him but it’s bullshit. I’m not fine. I’m still just as keyed up as I was when I finally collapsed into bed way after midnight.

My body burned for her when I jogged in the opposite direction of the caf last night. I couldn’t get her out of my goddamn head while I did my usual loop. She looked so fucking pretty.

When I wasn’t thinking about how gorgeous she looked, I was thinking about how embarrassed she was when Monroe ran his fucking mouth.

I knew he pissed her off when she moved to get away from the situation. I fucking hated that I was apart of something that made her uncomfortable.

When I ran back to campus, I already knew I was going to see her. The damn devil all out insisted that I go straight up to her apartment instead of my usual spot but I couldn’t cross that line. No matter how badly I wanted her. I had to stay on this side of it all. I needed to see her.

The apartment building that she and my sister live in is on the edge of campus and sits in front of a large wooded area. There’s a big ass tree and some hedges that make a sweet spot to slip into when I need to be near her. It’s hidden away and gives me a clear view up to her side of the building. It’s been fucking perfect for staring up into her bedroom window. I usually hang around until her light goes out and then run my ass home.

But last night it took her an extra hour or so. With every passing moment that her bedroom light was on, I had convinced myself that she was upset. I couldn’t let it go. I tossed and turned all fucking night when I finally landed in my bed.

I knew morning skate was gonna be a shit show as soon as my skates hit the fresh ice and I saw Monroe. He must have slept out last night because he didn’t grab a ride with us to the rink earlier.

I can’t focus on playing when all I want to do is slam him up against the fucking boards. I’m pissed off and need to cash in on some payback. I sure as hell don’t want him getting away with what he pulled at dinner with Sloane last night.

I can’t stop thinking about her and how upset she looked and keep missing the fucking puck because of it. Coach’s last fucking straw with me snaps when I mess up on the same drills I’ve been doing for the past three seasons. It should all be ingrained in my brain at this point but it doesn’t matter. Not when every cavern and crevice of my goddamn brain is filled with thoughts of her. Hockey doesn’t stand a fucking chance against Sloane Higgins.

“Number five, you forget you play college hockey? You”re skating like shit out there!” Coach yells across the ice after I miss my third pass from my brother.

I can’t find the puck, not that I’ve been trying that hard. All eyes are on me as we get ready to scrimmage. “You gonna show me that you deserve to be here, Wilton?” He shouts but I don’t react. The only thing I plan on doing is showing Monroe that he can’t say shit like that to her again.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” A asks when he skates past me. I clamp down on my mouth guard before lining up for a face-off. Sweat falls into my eyes and I blink it away and try to concentrate, my last effort to get my head in the game but it’s fucking useless.

I let my eyes drift to Monroe on defense and plan out my next move. I lose the drop but manage to steal the puck back. I get a shot off and it goes fucking wide. Even our goalie tilts his head in surprise. I’m making his job easy.

I’m playing like crap when I see my opening. I don’t think twice. I dump the puck to Max and skate across the ice to take my shot. Not a shot on goal but a shot to set shit straight.

The goal buzzer goes off but I don’t change my direction to celebrate the assist on Max’s goal. Instead, I slam his ass up against the boards and hold him there. I push up against him and sneer into his ear,

“You pull that shit again with her, I’ll fucking kick your ass. I don’t give a shit who you are, bro.” I don’t threaten my friends, Monroe is family to me, but I’ve been pissed the fuck off all damn night. He had it coming.

“Glad to see I lit a fire under your ass, I was starting to wonder if you were still in there,” he says and shakes me off.

“What the hell does that mean?” I grit out chewing on my mouth guard.

“It means you’ve been a zombie for months and I was trying to get you to react to something. To do something. I know how you feel about her, I was trying to remind you.” He says and holds out a gloved hand for me to bump which I don’t even hesitate to do.

“I don’t need you interfering. Nothing has changed,” I remind him.

“Of course it has, new year, new semester, new chances,” he says so easily as if there’s nothing else in the way of me getting my girl.

“You sound like my sister,” I point out and he throws his head back and laughs as we take a cool-down lap around the ice with the rest of the team. She was going on and on about New Year”s resolutions at Christmas. She’s got a whole list going.

“And you should listen to her,” he levels me with a serious stare and it’s not lost on me that his words hold a heavier meaning.

He’s heard her tell me to go for Sloane. That’s what he really means when he tells me to listen to my sister. We stop center ice to listen to Coach but my mind is lingering on Sloane again. I miss most of what he says until my brother smacks me in my helmet after Coach says my name.

He’s calling me out and orders an extra practice tomorrow morning on our only day off of the week. Fuck my fucking life. The team knows better than to protest outloud, and I have no doubt that these bastards are silently plotting my murder.

I’m sitting in front of my cubby and avoiding eye contact with my team. Everyone is pissed at me anyway. I rather avoid any more death stares. There”s too much going on in my head for me to really give a shit though.

Seeing her last night was a jolt to my system. According to my sister, she’s been here for a week. I get mad as hell thinking about all the chances I could’ve had to see her before last night.

The devil’s pissed at my missed opportunities. When my anger with Monroe cleared, she was still the only thing I was thinking about. That jolt fried my fucking brain. I just told Monroe that nothing’s changed regarding her and I.

It’s safer to stay in that headspace than to consider any alternative options that would put her and I together. The angel on my shoulder agrees and is clapping in approval.

“Wilton, I swear to whoever is up there that you’ll be sharpening skates next game if you don’t figure your shit out,” Coach shouts in my direction when he enters the locker room.

We’ve got a game Tuesday and I need to either act right or risk warming the goddamn bench. If I’m being honest with myself, I’m not in the fucking mood to play at all.

“Got it, Coach.” I don”t make him any bullshit promises that I’m gonna play harder or that I’m gonna work on my game. I can”t commit to that. Not when I’ve started to realize that the ice isn’t what it used to be for me. If I’m being dead honest, I’m not even sure if I want to play anymore.

Today wasn’t the first time I’ve fucked up during practice and it won’t be the last. It’s like I’ve been on autopilot or some shit. I’ve played this game for most of my life and at this point, my body knows what to do even when my mind is occupied. I’ve been relying on muscle memory to push me through, I don’t really care enough to give the game any more attention than that.

The ice used to be my happy place. Where I’d go and live out my dreams. I’ve fucked it all up so badly, that it’ll never be the same. I don’t even fucking recognize it as what it used to be. Not when it’s turned into a reminder of one of my worst fucking nightmares. Being out there is like reliving a bad fucking dream. It’s where I became the villain in my sister”s story.

The ice is a fucking dangerous place for me to be. It’s where the beef with Waterstone and Ellis originally started, where my fucking heart was broken for the first time over a girl who I never should’ve given it to, and where I made the worst possible decisions.

Every time I step out here since B’s second attack, I’m in a foul fucking mood. My game has gone to shit ever since. Sure I score and go through the motions, but it’s not like it was.

When Waterstone and Ellis attacked my sister for the first time, I had a different reaction. I had time to process what had happened with my family, while I ran, worked out, and had a break from hockey.

We weren’t due on the ice until we left for Havenwood and I had built-in time away. The day before we left for Havenwood in August my Dad dragged me and A to the rink and demanded we skate around. It felt good and I had missed it.

The break was over and he wanted us to start healing. He watched me all summer and caught on that I had avoided skating because I couldn’t imagine being happy when my sister was in so much pain. I spent all my time apologizing, trying to repair what I had broken, and focusing on my sister. I stayed close every day. I didn’t know what else to do.

I barely left the house except to run or go weightlifting. By the end of that summer, I was so full of guilt that I felt like the walls were closing in on me the longer I was there.

When I got back out on the ice it was like a damn light bulb had gone off. I feel like a piece of shit for admitting this, but I knew I had to get the hell out of there. Being home with my sister all the time wasn’t helping either of us.

I think it’s why we went fucking wild when we got to Havenwood. A and I immersed ourselves in college life. Looking back, it wasn’t fair to B. She was at home hurting and here I was playing hockey, living my dream, surrounded by girls, and making friends. I couldn’t be home but felt guilty for being away. It was all so confusing and fucked up.

Coach demanded all of my focus and hockey recentered me until it sent me spiraling. Her first attack left me crumbling, but her second attack left me in a pile of rubble. I haven’t been able to dig myself out since last November.

I think the difference for me and my relationship with the ice changed with the tournament last semester. It was on our home ice that I came face-to-face with those fuckers. I got my chance to lay into them after what they did to B the first time. I beat their asses both literally and on the scoreboard.

When they saw my sister, I knew I had fucked up beyond forgiveness. How can I continue to consider the ice and hockey to be sacred when the game I love to play has caused so much devastation for my sister?

I’m lost in my head and need to get the hell out of this locker room. My teammates would’ve probably stolen my clothes or pooled their money together to get one of the freshmen to take a shit in my bag if I bothered to shower.

I stuff my gear in my bag and ignore the rotten smell of sweaty equipment. I follow Jake and Monroe and throw my shit in the back of Jake’s SUV.

“You getting in?” Monroe asks when I slam the hatch closed.

“Come on, we’re gonna grab something to eat on our way home,” Jake adds and I shake my head no. I need to run. I’m so fucking antsy and my anxiety is starting to creep up. I need to get the hell away from here.

I run in the opposite direction of the athlete parking lot and head down the paved paths. There aren”t a ton of people out yet, it’s still stupid early for most students to be awake on a Saturday. I’m grateful for the quiet.

I make it to the top of the hill that overlooks campus and drop down to tighten my laces as much as I can. When I stand up and look out across a sleepy Havenwood, I’m not prepared for what happens next.

Walking across campus in leggings that should be fucking illegal, is Sloane. Every shitty thing about the last twelve hours floats away. Anything that isn’t related to her falls right out of my damn head.

I feel the invisible string between us tighten the moment she feels me staring at her. When she waves, showing me a little bit of her attention, it melts away some of my resolve. It also solidifies my next move. Nothing could keep me from following her now that I’ve got her in my sights.

This is how it started last semester. I would find her somewhere on campus, we’d lock eyes, she’d give me something to hold on to and I’d hold on to it for as long as I could. When this happens, I teeter on the edge of the lines in the sand I’ve drawn. I get as close as I can without feeling like I’m blurring the boundaries I’m trying to keep.

Something burns deep in my chest when I zero in on her. Having her look back sends shooting energy through every cell in my body. Every part of me is hyper-aware of Sloane. It’s always like this. It hasn’t dulled over time, it’s only gotten more intense.

I run down that hill so fucking fast to get to the path she’s on. When the landscape of campus forces my eyes to fall away from her, I’m instantly cold. That familiar burn cools down with us now being disconnected and I’m fucking desperate to get it back.

When I finally catch up to where she is I make sure to slow my pace. I know she feels me when I watch her sexy fucking hips sway with a little more sass. Fuck, she’s so fucking hot.

I can’t help but smile to myself, and it’s a really cheesy one that she catches as she slightly turns her pretty face to look over her shoulder before opening the door to one of the Athletic Buildings. Making sure I’m still here? You know I am, gorgeous girl.

The way her whiskey eyes search my smile sends fireworks shooting off in my gut. She grins and it’s just for me as she turns her head away and faces forward.

I don’t hesitate and follow her inside, eyeing a recreational activity schedule. She must be taking a class. I catch the ends of her red ponytail as she slips behind a door. Room 104.

I cross-reference the schedule and figure out she’s in a kickboxing class. It’s at a different time than it was in the fall. I’ll be back, gorgeous. The devil grins triumphantly on my shoulder. I got my hit of Sloane and am already anticipating my next one. I’ve been in fucking withdrawal for weeks.

Wherever she is, is where I want to be. It’s getting harder and harder to not give in to the gravitational force of my feelings that are pulling me towards her. In the past, that angel has filled my head up, reminding me that I’m bordering on being a fucking creeper for loitering around her, telling me to stop being a goddamn weirdo and to quit my shit and stop following her.

I’ve tried to listen and have forced myself to run in the opposite direction of campus, to give myself space and to quiet the intrusive thoughts that I was overstepping. I’ve tried to force myself away from her. Sometimes I run straight home, but most of the time I go to find her. I can’t fucking stay away.

Today was a pleasant surprise. I didn’t have to seek her out, she was there and so was I. I didn’t realize how much I needed to see her until I was running down that hill, chasing the high she was giving me. And in an hour, I’ll get another one.

The devil on my shoulder is basically doing a happy dance just thinking about it. I sprint down campus paths and out of Havenwood as a burst of energy courses through me. I can’t wait to see her again.

My smart watch lights up when B texts our sibling chat and the shift that goes through me is fucking immediate. Seeing my sister’s name bursts my bubble and the angel starts waving her finger in my damn face as she starts reminding me of all the reasons why I can’t ever have Sloane.

Rapid-fire thoughts shoot off in my head that I should just leave her alone. That I’m a piece of shit that doesn’t deserve her. I pick up my speed and try to outrun every fucking one.

My heart beats out of my goddamn chest like it’s trying to pulverize the stream of messed up thoughts, crippling self-doubt, and invasive crap filling up my head. I’m at constant war with myself.

The devil on my opposite shoulder was screaming at me to get to her. To see her pretty face. The world around me seemed dreary compared to when she was in my line of sight. She was a burst of vivid color when everything else was an ugly gray. Not even that patronizing angel could disagree that she lit up my world.

An hour later I was waiting for her and bouncing up and down in place. I was ready for my fix. I checked my smart watch, sixty-two minutes. Where are you, gorgeous girl? I started to panic, had I missed her? No, the schedule said one hour. I was right on time and wasn’t moving until I saw her again.

When she emerged, goddamn, she looked amazing. Red-cheeked, slightly sweaty, and tipping a water bottle to that pretty mouth. I was fucking mesmerized.

So was my dick that was thickening in my pants. I adjusted myself and pressed down on my boner to get a second of relief.

When she passed the building I was standing by I swear to the hockey gods above that she smiled. It’s like she knew I had come back to see her. I wasn’t in plain sight but she would’ve had to really look to find me.

That made my heart crack wide open. I was flooded with emotions as I walked behind her. I was questioning everything and wanted to run ahead and see her face, search her honey eyes for answers, and break through these fucking chains that held me back. I wanted so much more than what I felt like I was able to have.

She stopped abruptly and looked down before bending down to look at something. I watched her intently and stood to the side to take a better look at what had caught her attention.

I stayed at a distance but was still able to make out the pure white feather in her hand. She had a peaceful look on her face as she ran her fingers over it. I wanted to know what she was thinking as she held it in her hand. She must like them, she’s always wearing that feather pendant around her pretty neck.

She started to walk again and I swear she walked slower the rest of the way. I felt that burn in my chest cool again as she made her way inside her apartment building. An apartment that she shares with my sister. Fuck, my sister. “Yeah, your sister, you idiot,” I heard the annoying ass angel loud and clear.

Reality might as well have smacked me in the face as I take my sorry ass home. She lives with B because she’s her friend. Her best friend. She lives with B in an apartment because their dorm was a fucking crime scene.

I’m fucking exhausted and drained both emotionally and physically. I’m not sure what hurts more right now. My fucking feet or my heart. As high as I felt seeing her, from soaking up her bright light, the reality is that I don’t get to have her. I have to stay in the shadows, on the edge of what I want and what I can’t have.

I don’t bother changing my sweaty clothes and barely kick off my sneakers before falling flat on my face in my disgusting bed. My sheets smell fucking gross, but I could give a shit.

I don’t move for hours. I ignore the loud knocking on my bedroom door and turn to lie on my back with my forearm draped across my eyes. Even with the blinds drawn and the lights off, it”s not dark enough in here.

“Open up, C. I know you’re in there. Jake said you”ve been up here all day. It’s time to get up now.” My sister’s voice carries through the air along with the stark reminder that I’ve been lying here in bed since I got home from my run.

I drifted in and out of sleep, either dreaming of toned and long legs in those olive green leggings or having nightmares of the night B was attacked. It’s always either or. A sweet dream about Sloane or a terror about my sister being brutally hurt.

“Not now, B,” I croak out. I sound fucking pitiful. Her plea for me to open my door isn’t enough to get me to stir from my bed. I haven’t moved all day and don’t really plan on it now. Maybe if I lay perfectly still and stay quiet she’ll give up. I already know what’s coming. She was talking about it earlier in the week, texted our sib chat this morning about it, and Max was hounding me about going yesterday. I’m just not in the fucking mood to party.

She doesn’t give up. No, instead she uses the pin key on top of the door jam to pick the lock. Sisters can be so fucking annoying sometimes.

“You better be decent, I’m coming in in ten seconds unless you say otherwise,” she shouts and I start mentally counting down from ten. Right when I’m about to say “one,” she opens the door, flips the lights, and immediately plugs her nose.

“Oh my God! Chase, what’s that awful smell?” she squeals with her nose plugged from my doorway. I lift my arm up and I’m not sure what smells worse; my sweat-stained shirt and compression shorts or my armpits. Showering requires too much effort so I guess this is how I’m going to smell from now on. I sniff my underarm and the rank smell fills my nostrils. It’s still not enough to get my ass out of bed and into the bathroom though.

“I think it’s me,” I tell my sister who pinches her face together as she breathes in and out of her mouth.

“It’s clearly you, when was the last time you showered, Chase?” That’s the second time she’s called me Chase and not C. It’s telling, she’s letting me know she’s serious right now. The last thing I want to do is talk about this with her. Or anyone.

“Not sure, maybe Thursday? I don’t know, what does it matter?” I counter and eye the plate she had put down on my desk when she walked in. My stomach loudly makes its presence known. I’m fucking starving all of a sudden. I can’t remember if I even ate today.

“It’s Saturday night, Chase. You haven’t showered in days. When was the last time you left this room to do something besides hockey?” She asks and I shift my eyes away from hers. I followed your best friend home this morning while I was running, does that count?

I feel heat creep up my neck and flush my skin as silent moments pass. If I wasn’t watching her take in the chaotic mess around her, I would think she heard my thoughts and was stunned into silence by my borderline stalker behavior. I’ve somehow convinced myself that it’s not completely out of line since I did reveal myself to her today.

“Well, that settles it. You’re coming to this party tonight, if I can move past my anxiety and go, you can take a shower and come with me. Unless you want to stay in and tell me what”s really going on with you then you’re getting out of this room,” she demands from my open doorway, balancing a full plate of strawberry and honey-topped waffles. These are her bribery waffles.

She used to make these when she wanted me to do her chores and right now she either wants me to go to the party with her or to tell her what”s really going on.

I immediately swallow and narrow my eyes at her. She really wants to go to this thing tonight. Fuck, I should just get my sorry ass up and go. It’s a big deal for her and here I am feeling sorry for myself. It’s only across the street at Drew’s house. I know I’m expected to join my boys and make an appearance even though I rather keep my sorry ass home. I haven’t spoken a word to anyone since coming back from practice and falling face-first into my bed. I didn’t want to do a fucking thing today and I didn’t.

“No, I don’t want to talk about it,” I tell her and shove a fork full of food into my mouth. “Not fair, B. I know what these are,” I say and point my foodless fork at her while she takes a seat at my messy desk. She doesn’t respond, she’s too busy restacking a pile of papers that have fallen off my printer.

There’s another bout of deafening silence that lingers between us and anxiety begins to claw up my body as I watch her take in my disgusting room. I’ve tried to hide this from her. She hasn’t been in here since last semester and I’d like to think I’ve done a pretty good job keeping this from both of them. A’s just as gross and he rarely comes in here. I don’t give a shit what he says but B, well she’ll try to fix this. Fix me. And I’m not sure I can be fixed.

Her eyes track an entire case of discarded water bottles, stacks of papers, and the rest of my crap. There are multiple piles of dirty and not-so-clean clothes all over the floor and laundry baskets flipped over to serve as makeshift tables to hold dirty plates and utensils. The garbage can is overflowing and there’s a reusable grocery bag next to it with even more trash spilling over the top. The sheets haven’t been changed in a long ass time and the blinds might as well be permanently closed. I haven’t cleaned up in months. It’s a solid representation of what’s going on inside of my head. Everything is fucked up. Everything is in disarray.

“C-C-Chase,” her voice breaks as she holds her hands out to me. I don’t take them. I’m not ready to talk about any of this with her.

“Evie, I know okay? I know it’s bad. I don’t want to talk about it,” is all I say. With my appetite gone, I place the forgotten waffles on my desk and end up knocking over a pile of plastic cups to make room. She gives me a knowing look and bends down to gather the strewn red solo cups that fell.

“If you’re not ready to talk about it with me yet, can I at least help you get rid of some of this garbage? The plates? You can’t live like this, I won’t let you,” she says and starts to gather the half-drunk water bottles in her arms.

“It’s not your problem, just leave it alone, okay? You’ve been dealing with enough stuff, you don’t need mine added to your plate.” I tell her while swinging my legs over the side of the mattress and standing up outta bed.

A strong stench escapes from under my blanket and the body odor I’m giving off is foul as fuck. My sister wrinkles her nose and narrows her eyes at me. I recognize that determined look on her face. Goddammit. I don’t want to do this right now, I don’t have the energy.

“That’s where you’re wrong. You keep forgetting that your plate is my plate, that your stuff is my stuff, and that I can handle it. I’m your sister and I love you and I want to help if I can. You need to stop acting like I can’t handle it, I think I’ve proven just how strong I am,” She says while stuffing the garbage further down into the reusable bag before tossing in more trash.

“You shouldn’t have to,” I mumble and she turns on me so fast the bag in her hand knocks into my side.

“What does that mean?” she says and I don’t miss how angry she sounds.

“It means you shouldn’t have to shoulder my shit since I’m the reason you’ve had to be strong in the first place.” I’m shouting at her and she doesn’t even flinch. An awkward moment of silence sits between us and I take the bag from her, shove as much garbage as I can, and tie the fabric handles together to keep it all inside. To keep it together. The realization nearly has me sitting down on my dirty bed again. It’s me. I’m the garbage bag. I’m such a piece of shit.

“You can’t keep blaming yourself for what they did. It’s eating away at you and it’s not healthy. Don’t you see that? It doesn’t need to be like this, Chase. You’re clearly depressed and you’re using what happened to me as an excuse to, what? Punish yourself? Stop using my trauma as a reason for you to be miserable. As a reason for you to be alone.” She shouts back, her eyes are full of anger and tears. Her arms go wide, referencing the many messes both literally and figuratively that I’ve found myself in. Depression. That’s exactly what it is.

“You know what I see? I see that I’m someone who let you down twice. I deserve to be alone. I’m not going to mess her up like I’ve -”

“Like what? Like you’ve messed me up? Is that what you were going to say? Is that what you really think? You know what messes me up, you keeping things from me, you holding things in, you blaming yourself for something I’ve forgiven you for.” She takes a deep breath and steadies herself. “You need to forgive yourself, Chase, you”re not living; you”re scraping by. I know what that’s like. It’s lonely. It’s unbearable. It also doesn’t have to be like this. You”re the only one who can make things better, and it starts by wanting to be better. It doesn’t matter if I’ve forgiven you or not. You need to forgive yourself too.”

“One more thing, the only reason you’re denying yourself being with her is because of some bullshit excuse that you’re undeserving because of what happened to me. Take me out of it. I’m happy. I’m in love. My heart is fine. Yours is broken and it doesn’t have to be.”

“What the fuck is going on?” A’s voice booms as he steps inside my room and pinches his whole face together in disgust. “It’s a fucking disaster in here.” It’s a disaster in my head too, jackass.

“Evie, come here, baby,” Max says from my doorway and he holds open his arms for her but doesn’t wait for her to go to him. He immediately tugs her close and wraps her in a hug. I look at them, I mean I really look at them and all I can see is their happiness.

“You want to know what’s going on?” She says from under Max’s arms. “He’s going to shower and get ready and he’s coming to the party tonight. He needs to get out of this room.” Max lifts his chin to me. It’s like he’s seeing everything through her eyes and I turn away. I’m ashamed and guilty and have kept my distance from him to avoid this very scenario from playing out.

“You smell like shit, get in the goddamn shower,” A demands and pushes me towards the bathroom. “Go wash your ass, after we’re gonna go to this dumbass party, and tomorrow we’re gonna talk about what the fuck is going on with you and then we’re gonna clean your nasty ass room.”

“No, we’re fucking not,” I shout back and slam the bathroom door shut.

“I bet you’ll feel a lot better afterward,” my sister adds from the hallway. I’m not sure if she’s talking about the shower, going to this party, or talking about the state of my room. None of the above sounds promising. Nothing makes me feel better. Except seeing her.

I actually feel fucking worse. Her words hit me hard. Is that what she really thinks? Is that what I’m doing? Using what happened to her as an excuse to punish myself? She might be right.

There’s a slight knock on the door and I find Max on the other side. “Looks like you need one of these. A shower beer will definitely help take the edge off, brother.” He lifts his chin and hands me a cold silver can. I pop the top and chug it down before pushing the curtain to the side and stepping under the spray. No matter how hot the water is, or how hard I scrub my skin, it’s not enough to wash away the messes I’ve made.

I take a seat on the couch to wait for my sister to finish getting ready. Jake and Max are playing a video game and A is scowling at his phone. Monroe passes out beers and hands me mine last. He holds out his fist for a bump and gives me a chin nod. I don’t want beef with my boys but I won’t let anyone go after her either. I hold out my can to knock with his and chug mine, draining the piss-tasting alcohol faster than any fucking frat boy on campus.

I feel exposed after what happened in my room with my siblings and Max. He was right, the beer blunts the edges.I’ll take ten. The sympathetic look on their faces, my sister putting me in my place, and the way my brother screwed up his nose like I reeked of moldy jock straps was fucking humiliating.

“What the hell is she doing up there?” A, whines from the recliner never taking his eyes off his phone.

“Don’t you dare fucking rush her, she’s nervous and excited about tonight. It’s a big deal for her,” Max barks back at him. A rolls his eyes and deepens his scowl. His white-knuckled grip on his phone has his hand shaking.

“Drew texted, I’ll tell him we’ll be over in a bit,” Jake holds up his phone, motioning to our group chat. I haven’t been out, let alone to a party in forever. Not my scene right now. I plan to get in, make a round to say hello and show my face, and then come right back home. Maybe I’ll go for a run.

B’s all dolled up and holding her head high when she finally comes down the stairs while she smiles at Max who stands to greet her. Love looks good on her. She looks so damn happy and I keep noticing it more and more every time I see her. She keeps saying she’s okay and this feels shitty to admit, but seeing her right now ready and willing to go to a party with her boyfriend, feeling good about herself, gives me more reason to believe her.

“Wow, Dimples, you look amazing. Guys go on ahead, we’ll be there later.” I stick my legs out, tripping him up to slow his desperate ass down as he tries to get through four bodies. He doesn’t let any of us get in his way and scrambles towards the stairs where she’s standing.

“The fuck, Max! Really!?” A, yells out at him as he chases B back up to his room.

“Sisterfucker!” Monroe yells and Jake smacks him in the stomach for A and I since he’s closer. I spring up, shake my head back and forth to dislodge the image of Max swatting at B’s ass to urge her up the

stairs, and move towards the door with a stampede behind me. Time to go and get this over with.