Chapter 13
thirteen
Lachlan
T oday is the day.
It’s the day where I am going to annihilate these little college kids and show them that age is nothing but a number.
When I head out into the kitchen, Ainsley is sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and her nose deep in a book. So much that she doesn’t even notice me.
She’s so beautiful sitting in my kitchen. Her dark-brown hair is in a braid that doesn’t really look like a braid, but works. Ainsley pulls her lower lip between her teeth as she turns the page, almost as though she’s living it with the character.
I watch for a moment, wishing that circumstances were different and that this could be my life in some way, but it can’t.
I learned a long time ago that we don’t get what we want in life, and people may have good intentions, but their wants may not align and I’ve gotten hurt.
Pessimistic? Maybe, but it’s honest.
Besides, I have a feeling it’s going to be a good day and I’m not going down the shitty roads with my thoughts.
I clear my throat.
“Oh! Good morning, my little adorable Frisbee player.”
My good mood disappears just like that .
“There’s nothing little about me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Such a man. So what’s the plan?”
“The plan?”
“For today.”
I shrug. “Not sure what part you’re questioning. We get our team opponent in about five minutes. Then we head to the tournament grounds to prepare for the day.”
“Oh, this is, like, an all-day thing?”
“Yes, it’s the best out of three.”
Her brows shoot up. “You all are going to do this multiple times?”
“Yes . . .”
“Is there medical on site? I mean, I’m not a doctor or anything, but you’re all a little ... you know, old.”
I huff, but ... yes, we already made sure. I’m not going to lie, I’m a little worried one of us might pass out trying to impress her.
Not a chance in hell I’m going to let her know that. “And you’re a little annoying, but here we are.”
“ Anyway , is Rose at her friend’s house for the day?”
“Yes, she hates coming to the games.”
“Boy, I wonder why,” Ainsley says with a grin.
I grab my massage gun, supplements, phone, and knee brace, further making me wonder whether I am going to need the medical tent.
My phone pings, and I groan when I see Everett’s message in the group.
Everett
Schedule is out, we’re playing the Swift-bees in round one.
Miles
I wonder if they’re going to shake it off when we show them we’re the masterminds .
I roll my eyes.
Killian
I’m not even going to ask why you’re talking in song titles.
Miles
Well, I’m a school principal, what the hell do you think I hear all day?
Yes, but you don’t have to repeat it.
Everett
Is anyone else going to point out that Killian knew these were song titles?
I was leaving it to you.
Killian
Dickheads. All of you.
You’re just pissed we caught you.
Miles
I have the best idea! You guys are going to think I’m a fucking genius.
There’s not a chance of that happening, since most of the time he’s a dumbass.
Everett
Oh, this should be good.
Suddenly I feel warmth at my back and turn to see Ainsley peeking over my shoulder. “Excuse me?”
“Just keeping up on the gossip. A group chat about Frisbee—scintillating. Did you find out who you’re playing?”
“Yes, nosy ass, we did.”
She grins. “And?”
“The Swift-bees in the first round.”
Ainsley’s eyes go wide, and I really wish I didn’t have to say that aloud.
“ Wait . You have team names?”
I failed to mention that, and for this reason. Although, after today, there’s no way we’re going to be able to hide it from her. So I go with being proud. Sure, we’re older. Sure, we have the most ridiculous name, but we didn’t have the option to change it, because Hazel is who registered it for us.
“We do.”
She silently laughs, covers her mouth, and then drops her hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you all have rather respectable names. Something like Ultimate Manchildren or Frisbros or Floppy Discs.”
That second one would’ve been good. “No, it’s much more dignified. We’re the Disc Jocks.”
Ainsley holds it together for about two seconds, which is more than I thought she would anyway, before bursting out laughing. “Oh my God! I’m starting to really be excited about this now. I mean, this article is going from a boring follow-up about a football god who walked away to a thought-provoking piece about why schools should give scholarships more on merit instead of sports.”
“You do know that sports are what brings money into those colleges so they can give academic money out, right?” I ask.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m well aware of that.”
“And since you got that off the hard work that me and my other athlete friends provided, I’ll happily accept an apology,” I say with a brow raised .
There’s about a snowball’s chance in hell of getting that from her, but I wait.
And wait.
Ainsley snorts. “Dream on, buddy.”
Figures as much. “Ungrateful to my contributions to your life, as always.”
“Umm, I’m sorry, what the hell have you contributed ever?”
“I just told you. My physical prowess has allowed you to go to school at a reduced rate.”
“You didn’t even go to NYU!” she yells and throws her hands up. “We didn’t even have a football team. Jesus.”
I shrug. “Semantics.”
“Okay, Mr. I-Am-So-Sports-I’m-in-Community-College-to-Still-Play, what exactly are the hopes of the Disc Jocks?”
“To win.”
I mean, is there even any other option? I don’t think so.
“I guess I’m trying to ask what exactly you all hope to gain out of this.”
I narrow my eyes a little, wondering whether this is Ainsley, my longtime friend, or Ainsley, the reporter who is trying to get ahead in her career.
Either way, I’m the Lachlan I’ve always been and love nothing more than pissing her off.
“Fun.”
And with that I grab my things and head into the living room.
In normal Ainsley fashion, she doesn’t like not having the last word and grunts, storming in behind me.
“What was Miles’s genius idea?” she asks.
Ugh, I forgot about that text thread. I open it up to several more messages, which means I missed any chance to veto this.
Miles
We all wear different Taylor Swift shirts. We can psych them out.
Killian
I’m sorry, what?
Miles
You know, I love this idea. My sister is a huge fan and has shirts. I bet I could get some.
Everett
We can all be a different era.
Killian
Again, what the hell are you talking about?
Miles
Listen, Grandpa, you just wear the shirt. Maybe you should be the first one since ... you’re the oldest.
Killian
Fuck off. You’re the worst on the team.
Everett
Ladies, focus. Okay, shirts. Let’s make this happen. We can walk on with background music too.
Miles
Done. I’ll bring the shirts, someone get a boombox.
Everett
Do they still make those?
Miles
I don’t know, but if they do, I’m sure Killian has one.
Killian
* middle finger emoji *
I swear they are trying to find new ways to torture me.
Absolutely not happening. Do you all forget we have Ainsley writing about us? No way are we going to embarrass ourselves more.
Everett
It was decided on. Sorry, bro, those are the rules.
What rules? He’s out of his damn mind.
Miles
Got the shirts!
Fucking hell. This day just can’t get worse. I turn around, and Ainsley is leaning against the wall. Here goes the worst.
“His idea was Taylor Swift shirts.”
She starts a smile, then pulls her lips tight. Then her hand covers her mouth as she almost doubles over. Her whole body is shaking, and then she looks up at me, letting her laugh fly.
Yeah, I would be doing the same.
“Please can I pick which one you’ll wear?”
“No.”
“Please? I promise it’ll be a good one.”
I roll my eyes. “You are out of your fucking mind if you think I’m going to let you pick my clothes out.”
She grins, grabs her bag, and winks. “We’ll see what the other guys think.”
Then she walks out and toward the truck.
I stand here for a second, groan, and get ready to head to what is sure to be an absolute shit show.