Chapter 28 #2
"What?" Drew says innocently. "It's a general rule. Applies to everyone."
"Yeah," someone mutters, "everyone whose name rhymes with Flames and Faileb."
My shoulders rise as my butt sinks lower in my seat, as James stiffens across the room.
"Second new rule," Drew continues, "no comments about the first rule."
This earns a few chuckles, breaking some of the tension.
Drew races through the boring stuff, money stuff for the semester, charity things coming up, and when we're fixing what around the house. I'm only half-listening, too aware of James's presence. It doesn't help that Gavin keeps ‘accidentally’ including us in the same sentence.
"For the alumni dinner, we should have James handle the slideshow and Caleb do the speech since they're both so good with—" Gavin pauses as everyone stares. "What? Did I miss something?"
Tyler, wearing a Team James t-shirt, elbows him.
"Oh! Right! They broke up." Gavin looks genuinely confused. "When did that happen again?"
"Three weeks ago," at least five people chorus in unison.
"That can't be right," Gavin argues. "They were definitely together at the Christmas party. Remember when they disappeared for like an hour and came back all—"
"Different topic!" Drew interrupts loudly, while I sink further into my seat, face burning.
Risking a glance at James, he's staring determinedly at his notebook, and the tips of his ears are red. At least I'm not the only one mortified.
The meeting continues with this bizarre undercurrent. At one point, Tyler leaves to get drinks and returns wearing a Team Caleb shirt, acting like nothing has changed. When James narrows his eyes, Tyler shrugs. "Laundry emergency."
There is a whiteboard in the corner that I hadn't noticed before. It looks suspiciously like a betting pool. The columns include:
Reconciliation Date - Odds - Method Jan 15 - 3:1 - Public Groveling Feb 1 - 5:1 - Dramatic Gesture Valentine's Day - 2:1 - Alcohol-Induced
Someone updates it when James and I accidentally make eye contact, adding a tally mark under "Lingering Eye Contact - $5."
"Are you guys seriously betting on us?" James finally snaps.
"Not at all," Cameron says smoothly, stepping in front of the whiteboard. "This is for... fantasy football."
"It's January," James points out. "Football season is over."
"European football," Cameron amends. "Very popular right now."
James looks like he's about to commit murder, so Drew quickly intervenes.
"Moving on! Last item on the agenda, any announcements?"
Silence falls, and I realize they're waiting for me. This is where I should announce the Rainbow Haven House project, but I can't bring myself to do it. Not here, not like this.
James clears his throat, and everyone goes quiet.
"I got a call from Marcus at Rainbow Haven House," he says, his voice carefully neutral. "A contractor showed up and offered to do a bunch of repairs. Marcus doesn't know who sent them, but they've made a list of things the professionals will handle and things that we, volunteers, could tackle."
He continues explaining, still not looking at me. "Marcus doesn't want to abuse anyone's generosity, but he asked if we could help with a work party tomorrow. The contractor will supervise."
His eyes finally, finally meet mine, and I can't help the flush that spreads across my face. Something flickers in his expression before he looks away, resuming his explanation.
"I know it's short notice, but it would mean a lot to the kids. Anyone who can help, there's a sign-up sheet."
"Convenient timing," Tyler murmurs, shooting me a look. I maintain my best poker face.
After the meeting, people crowd around to sign up for the work party. I deliberately hang back until most have finished, then write my name where James will see it. As I'm putting down the pen, Ian sidles up beside me.
"Listen," he drawls in his Southern accent, "our social media engagement is down 30% since you two broke up. The people want their grumpy power couple back. I'm saying, think of the brand."
Wait. What? The words rearrange themselves slowly while I try to figure out what the hell Ian is talking about. "The brand?"
"Yeah, man. #GrumpyInLove was trending on our Instagram." He shrugs. "The people have spoken."
"Wait, you were posting about us?" There is no keeping horror out of my voice.
"Not explicitly," Ian says, somehow making it sound like 'ex-pli-cit-ly.' "Just candid shots. The contrast between your resting bitch face and his adoring looks was social media gold."
"I did not have an adoring look," James says sharply, appearing beside us.
Ian grins. "I have about three hundred photos that say otherwise, darlin'. But don't worry, I'm a gentleman. Your secrets are safe with me." He winks and saunters away.
James and I stand awkwardly for a moment.
"So… You're going tomorrow?"
"Obviously. I organized it." He pauses. "You don't have to come."
"I want to help."
He studies me for a moment, then nods curtly. "Fine. See you there."
It's not much, but as I watch him walk away, it's like the tiniest crack in his walls. Operation Second Chance is officially underway.
I arrive at RHH half an hour early on Saturday to make sure everything is set up correctly before the others arrive. The contractor, Elena, meets me at the entrance with a clipboard.
"Everything's ready, Mr. Huntington," she says crisply, handing it to me. "I've marked which areas are for your volunteers and which my crew will handle when we come back next week."
"Perfect. And thank you again for doing this."
She waves a hand dismissively. "My daughter found a place like this when she needed it. I'm paying it forward."
Her daughter hadn't been kicked out; she'd been physically abused by her father when he discovered her sexuality.
Elena had divorced him immediately, but the damage was done.
Their daughter had run away, thinking neither parent wanted her.
A place like Rainbow Haven had kept her safe until Elena found her.
"A house like this saved my girl's life," Elena had told me when I first contacted her. "I'd rebuild the entire thing from scratch if they needed it."
I study the old Victorian house with new eyes. What I dismissed as shabby on my first visit, I now see as loved but underfunded. The peeling paint and worn stairs are signs of a place that puts its limited resources into the kids, not appearances.
Marcus emerges from inside, his expression guarded as he approaches me. "Your frat brothers are coming?"
"Yes. Should be here soon." My feet shift awkwardly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was arranging this. I wanted it to be... helpful, not presumptuous."
He studies me for a long moment, then nods. "James hasn't mentioned you two are back together."
"We're not… Yet… Hopefully."
A hint of amusement crosses his face. "I see." He motions to the house. "Well, we appreciate the help, however it came about."
A few teens peek out from the windows, watching curiously as I help unload supplies from Elena's truck.
They're wary, these kids. I remember how they eyed me at Christmas, like they were waiting for me to reveal my true, judgmental self.
It makes my chest ache to think about what they've been through to create that wariness.
The frat brothers arrive in waves, James among the last group. Drew immediately takes charge, clipboard in hand.
"Alright, assignments!" he announces with suspicious enthusiasm. He begins reading off teams. "Tyler and Marcos are on the front porch railings. Gavin and Cameron are in the kitchen. Ian and Noah are on the basement stairs. And finally, James and Caleb will handle the upstairs hallway painting."
James stiffens. "I can work with Tyler instead."
"Oh no," Drew says solemnly. "The list is final. Very scientific pairing system."
Someone snickers in the background. James shoots them a glare that would melt steel.
"I'll work alone," he says flatly, and walks away before anyone can argue.
Drew shrugs at me apologetically. "Worth a shot."
It's incredibly hard not to let the rejection sting, but I focus instead on the task at hand. My team, hastily reassigned to include Gavin, begins prepping the upstairs hallway for painting.
"Don't worry," Gavin whispers as we tape off the baseboards. We have a backup plan."
"Please don't."
He grins. Bastard.
The matchmaking attempts continue throughout the morning, each more obvious than the last. Someone ‘accidentally’ locks James and me in a supply closet, only for James to use his phone’s flashlight to find the interior door release immediately.
The power mysteriously goes out in the section where we're both working, prompting Marcus to mutter about ancient wiring.
"Did you seriously cut the power?" I hiss at Tyler when we collide in the hallway.
"Not me." He holds up his hands innocently. "But whoever did wasn't thinking clearly. James is a tech genius. He practically lives in the dark."
At one point, someone is blasting love songs from a hidden speaker. When, I Want You Back starts playing for the third time, James storms out of the room he's working in, his face thunderous.
"If I hear one more Jackson 5 song, I'm leaving!"
"What a specific complaint," Cameron says innocently, quickly hiding his phone.
By lunchtime, I'm ready to strangle my well-meaning friends. Taking a break, I step outside for some air and find a teen sitting on the porch steps. It takes me a moment to recognize them as the same kid who worked with me on the gingerbread house at Christmas.
"So you're officially the boyfriend who messed up," they say without preamble.
"Excuse me?"
Alex shrugs. "James gets this look when someone mentions you. Like he swallowed a lemon but kind of misses the taste."
Sitting beside them, I'm oddly comfortable with their bluntness. "Is that what everyone is gossiping about here?"
Alex rolls their eyes. "The whole house knows. It's like a soap opera in here today."
Fuck. "That obvious?"