Chapter 2 Gianna #2
‘Would you stop calling me kid?’
He’s only two years older than me, but he treats me like a baby. I’ll be nineteen in a few months.
‘You’re my baby sister.’ Jace grins, hooking a playful arm around my shoulder. ‘You’ll always be a kid.’
He’s always been protective of me, especially after Pa passed two years ago. Sometimes it’s suffocating, but he means well and I know I can always count on him.
I shrug him off. ‘Stop it.’
‘What?’ He chuckles. ‘You will.’
I’ll miss our morning bickering when he moves. I know he’s stuck around for as long as he could. Even though our college isn’t far, it would have made more sense for him to live on campus with the constant basketball practice before, after and in-between classes, but he decided to stay home for me.
‘What am I gonna do when you leave next year?’ I ask, attempting to smooth my hair before giving up. My curls have always had a mind of their own.
‘You’ll be alright. Maybe you can get a dog or something.’ He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and an apple from the fruit bowl. ‘He can eat the scraps.’
I’m heading to the front door to get my backpack when the familiar crunch of gravel hits my ears. The sound I heard all throughout high school. I guess he brought the truck today. If it was his bike, the walls would have been vibrating as he belted down the street.
The door swings open. ‘Good morning, my sexy stacks of sunshine.’ His voice brightens the whole house before he even steps over the threshold.
Ryker Edwards. Star power forward, most-loved Kingsman and the reason for hushed whispers in the hallway by blushing, giddy girls.
It’s me. I’m the blushing, giddy girls. Blushing, giddy girls is me.
‘Gianna!’ My brother’s best friend wraps me up in a hug so tight, my feet leave the floor and he swings me around. I expect him to let me go but he lingers for a moment, enveloping me in him.
His scent is everything. It’s the sap from the cypress trees when we’d go camping as kids mixed with the citrus of the shampoo in his hair. But the leather … that’s new. The leather makes him smell like bad decisions. The kind that makes for fun stories.
‘Morning, Ryker.’
He leans his head back to look at my face. ‘What’s that?’ He frowns. ‘Morning, Ryker.’ He parrots my monotone. ‘Not happy to see me?’
‘I’m always happy to see you.’
‘Then a little more chirp, please.’
I try my best Charlie’s Angels voice. ‘Good morning, Ryker!’ It wins me a killer smile.
God, that smile.
Along with a perfectly straight nose, flawless creamy skin and a jaw that’s criminally sharp.
‘Better,’ he says, releasing me. ‘Jace ready?’
I nod, taking my backpack off the hook. ‘He’s just gone to his room.’
I dig around for my AirPods and choose a playlist. Satisfied with Recently Played, I go to swing my bag over my shoulder but Ryker reaches out.
‘I’ll bring it to the car for you.’
I shake my head, gently pulling the straps free from his fingers. ‘I need air. Ma cooked this morning.’ The smell of burnt pancakes still clings to my nostrils, but I also feel lightheaded from the scent of him.
Ryker waves a hand, tasting the air like he’s savouring wine. ‘Hmmm, yes. Smoky with a hint of charcoal.’
I snort. ‘Yeah, it tasted exactly like it smells.’ I reach for the door, but he sidesteps into me.
‘Wait for us. We’ll walk to class with you.’
‘I think Jace is keen to try out the new upgrades. He’s gonna want to drive today.’
‘Then you can come with me. We can leave the windows down and you can get all the air you want,’ he presses.
I’m about to protest, but our attention is pulled to the footsteps approaching.
‘Yo!’ Jace appears, breaking our interaction, holding a backpack and basketball. ‘The prince is here.’ A backward cap now covers his head, and he’s changed into a clean Kings jersey with grey sweats. He slaps Ryker’s hand before they bump forearms, the handshake they’ve shared since forever.
‘The prince?’ I pull a face. ‘Are you actually calling yourself royalty now?’
‘Not me.’ He nods his chin toward Ryker. ‘He coined it in practice yesterday. The Booker Bay Prince.’
‘But you’re already a Kingsman. How can you be a prince and a Kingsman?’
‘Don’t read so hard into things, baby sis. It’s not that deep.’ Jace bounces the ball across the living room with a proud smile. ‘The Sonics are gonna love us when we join next year.’ He passes to Ryker who catches it.
A bizarre mix of happiness and emptiness fills my chest. Because of course, if two friends were going to get drafted to the same national team and debut their rookie year together, it would be these two.
But it means I’ll lose them both. Ryker nudges my side, giving me a small smile that says he knows what I’m thinking.
‘We won’t be far.’ He winks, and suddenly a whole different feeling replaces that emptiness. I’m just not sure it’s one I should be feeling for someone I’ve known almost my whole life.
‘Wait till you see what I’ve got on the ’stang.’ Jace claps his hands and rubs them together. ‘I haven’t installed the new sound system yet so it’s still all over the seats.’
‘It’s all good, I’ve got the truck.’
‘Will you stick around and help me with junior tryouts later?’
Ryker gives a lopsided grin. ‘You didn’t check the chat, huh? Tryouts got moved to tomorrow. We’ve got practice instead.’
‘Oh, hell yes, I’m not in the mood for it today.’ He sighs his relief before looking at me. ‘You riding with the prince?’ Jace asks. I chance a glance at Ryker, and the look in his eyes almost has me saying yes.
‘No. I was just saying I need air.’
‘Alright,’ Jace says easily, fishing around in the key bowl on the hall table. ‘I’ll lock up.’
With a nod, I head out, getting halfway across the lawn before the front door slams shut. I’ve already made it to the next block when the Mustang passes, its rumble so loud that I hear it through my AirPods and feel it in my chest.
Jace hangs out the window, one hand on the steering wheel.
‘Make good decisions!’ he mocks in his best impression of Ma.
I blow out a laugh as he takes off down the road, but frown when I realise Ryker’s vehicle isn’t following.
I take the earbuds out of my ears, and the only sound accompanying the slow morning is a low purr coming from behind me.
I look back, seeing Ryker’s glossy black Raptor ghosting along the parking lane.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask when he stops beside me.
The window is cracked halfway, but the tint is so dark, I can barely see him inside. ‘You sure you don’t want a lift?’
I shake my head. ‘I’ll be sitting down all day. I like the walk. I’ll meet you there.’
He says nothing and I wish I could see his whole face to understand what he’s even thinking.
The truck bunny-hops from coasting in low gear, and a laugh bursts free from me. ‘Go,’ I urge. ‘You can’t crawl the truck all the way to campus. I won’t be far behind.’
It’s not unusual for me to walk on my own, so when he continues to linger, I ask, ‘What’s going on?’
Ryker doesn’t answer for a moment. ‘We’re just … running out of time now. There’s only a few more weeks we can go in together.’
That small pang hits me again. He’s right. But after breathing in the smoke all morning, I really need fresh air.
‘I’ll come with you tomorrow, and every day after that. Just let me walk today.’ I try to compromise.
He fixes me with a hard look. ‘Every day?’
‘Every day.’
‘Deal.’ Seemingly satisfied, he slowly takes off, picking up the pace until he’s out of sight.
Ten minutes later, I near the large fountain in the centre of town. Across the square, the staff at Margarita Daze Grill – or MDs – are busy setting up chairs. Next door, Paradiso, the old record store that doubles as a cafe and cinema, won’t open till later this afternoon.
Booker Bay is a small town, so small that our university and high school combined almost take up the entire south side, along with the lighthouse.
They’re state-of-the-art institutions with no expense spared on the basketball courts, ice rink and football field.
It wasn’t a question of money, but one of space.
Still, developers found a sliver of vacant land for new apartments and townhouses.
The only way to get to our little pocket of sand is through our neighbouring metropolis, Empire City.
There’s one bridge that connects our island to them, and to the rest of civilisation.
It’s funny, the bridge that connects us is also a reminder of how divided we are.
The colleges, Booker Bay University and Empire City University, have a famous rivalry.
Booker Bay is far from poor. We have green lawns, open space, marbled staircases, fancy porch lights and families cooking outside on extravagant grills.
But Empire City is next level, and they know it.
I’m nearly at the fountain when erratic movement catches my attention. I turn and spot a huddle of boys. They look a few years older, probably my brother’s age. Their jerseys have the ECU logo, a hawk, embroidered on the left pocket.
ECU students don’t usually come over the bridge, but they’ve been everywhere lately.
Probably because every year, close to Halloween, there’s The Prank, a chance for the Booker Bay Kings and Empire City Hawks players to get in each other’s heads before basketball finals.
It’s never just a single prank. It’s a week’s worth of buildings getting spray painted and campuses getting trashed.
One of the boys dodges to the left, and I see a small brown dog cowering at their feet. The boy on the left raises a stick and, before he can bring it down, I’m nearly on them.
‘Hey! What are you doing?’ I shove them to the side, feeling heat rush to my cheeks, and bend down to scoop up the quivering dog.
Pa’s words ring clear through my mind. ‘Never turn your back on an enemy,’ so I quickly jump up and turn to face them.
‘Trying to be a hero, Booker Bay trash?’ the boy sneers, still holding the stick as he reaches for the dog with his free hand.