Chapter 15 Practice Makes Hell #2
“Wait,” she said, looking around.. “Is that... did you build a goat pen?”
I grinned, walking over to where I'd set up a professional-grade goat pen, complete with a wooden shelter that looked like a tiny barn. “I may have known about your surprise. The rescue called to confirm the home visit.”
“Gryff, you ruined my surprise.”
“No, I enhanced it. Because...” I opened the door to the little barn, and out trotted Holly Goatlightly, smaller than Vincent, a tawny brown with a white spot that resembled a heart on her forehead.
“Meet Holly Goatlightly. She's Vincent's best friend from the rescue. They're bonded, can't be separated.”
“You got me a goat?” Artie's voice cracked. “You actually got me a goat?”
“I know how much you wanted one. And when I found out about Vincent, the rescue mentioned he had a bonded friend, so...” I picked up Holly, who immediately started investigating my collar. “Happy just-because-I-wanted-to day.”
“We both got each other goats,” Artie said, starting to laugh through her tears. “We're those people who get each other goats.”
“Technically, I got you a goat because I knew you wanted one. You got me a goat for my birthday. Totally different.”
“Shut up.” She was holding Vincent and crying and laughing at the same time. “This is the best gift anyone's ever given me.”
“A goat?”
“Someone knowing me well enough to know I needed a goat.” She looked at the pen, where I'd hung a hand-painted sign that read “Vincent & Holly's House” with little hearts around it. “You even made them a house.”
“They're our goats. We're co-parenting.” I set Holly down, and she immediately ran to inspect Vincent, who was still in Artie's arms.
She launched herself at me, careful not to squish Vincent between us, wrapping her free arm around my neck. “This is the best gift anyone's ever given me,” she whispered against my neck. “You're the best friend anyone could ever have.”
Friend. Right. That's what I was.
“Dios Mio,” AbuelaNovela's voice carried across the yard. “El amor! The yearning! Someone kiss someone already!”
We jumped apart to find half the party had migrated to the back door to watch us.
“We were just—“ Artie started.
“Hugging,” I finished. “Platonically. About goats.”
“Right,” Sean said, not even trying to hide his smirk. “Platonic goat hugs.”
Vincent chose that moment to walk over to where Tyson was standing and headbutt him directly in the shin.
“Yowch.” Tyson stepped back, but Vincent followed, bleating aggressively.
Holly joined in, grabbing Tyson's shoelace in her teeth and pulling.
“I don't think they like you,” Jules observed with obvious delight.
“Animals usually love me,” Tyson said, trying to gently shake Holly off his shoe while Vincent continued his shin assault.
Flynn was definitely laughing now, not even trying to hide it. He caught Tyson's eye and they shared some kind of look that I couldn't interpret.
“Maybe they're just excited,” Artie said, trying to call Holly back. But Holly had successfully untied Tyson's shoe and was now trying to steal it entirely.
“Or maybe they're excellent judges of character,” Nana suggested innocently.
“Vincent, no,” I said, scooping up my new son before he could do actual damage to Tyson's shins. Vincent immediately settled in my arms, looking angelic.
The party moved back inside, but the goats had to stay in their pen after they kept forming a protective barrier between Artie and Tyson every time he got close to her. It would have been funny if it wasn't so clearly what I wanted to be doing myself.
As the night went on, Tyson turned his charm up to eleven. He told stories about building schools in Guatemala, mentioned his volunteer work teaching kids to read, and casually dropped that he'd been accepted to Harvard but turned it down to play football.
“Of course he did,” I muttered to Flynn. “He probably also saves puppies on weekends.”
“Actually, kittens,” Flynn said with a completely straight face. “He fosters orphaned kittens.”
“I'm going to throw myself into the ocean.”
“The ocean's, like, an hour away with traffic.”
“Then I'll throw myself into the pool.”
“We don't have a pool.”
“I'll dig one and then throw myself into it.”
Flynn patted my shoulder. “You're handling this well.”
Then, because the universe hated me, Tyson chose that moment to make his move. He waited until everyone was gathered in the living room, until I was definitely within earshot, and then turned to Artie with that perfect smile.
“So,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “there's this new action movie coming out next week. The one with that actor you mentioned you liked? Fox Daws. Want to go see it with me?”
How did he know she wanted to see that? I'd been planning to ask her to that exact movie.
Artie glanced at me quickly, and for a second I thought maybe she was looking for a reason to say no. But I kept my face carefully neutral, supportive even, because that's what good friends did.
“Sure,” she said, and my heart cracked a little more. “That sounds fun.”
Flynn and Tyson did some kind of quick fist bump that they probably thought I didn't see. Great. My brother was literally celebrating my romantic demise.
“Perfect,” Tyson said. “It's a date.”
A date. Not hanging out, not catching a movie as friends. A date.
“I'm gonna check on the goats,” I announced to no one in particular, needing to escape before I did something stupid like cry or challenge Tyson to single combat.
The backyard was quiet, peaceful. Vincent and Holly were curled up together in their little barn, and they both looked up when I approached.
“Hey guys,” I said, sitting down next to their pen. “At least you two tried.”
Vincent bleated softly and stuck his head through the fence for scritches.
“She's going on a date with him,” I told the goats. “A real date. To the movie I wanted to take her to.”
Holly made a sound that seemed sympathetic.
“The practice sessions worked. She's confident now. Ready to date someone perfect like Tyson.” I rubbed Vincent's one floppy ear. “Mission accomplished, right?”
“Talking to the goats?”
I turned to find Artie standing behind me, backlit by the house lights.
“They're good listeners,” I said.
She sat down next to me, close enough that our shoulders touched. “Today was perfect. Thank you for the goats. I can't believe you did all this for me.”
“I'd do anything for you.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
“Gryff?” She sounded hesitant. “About the movie with Tyson...”
My heart stopped. Was she going to cancel? Tell me she'd rather go with me?
“Yeah?”
“Do you think I'm ready? The practice kissing helped, but what if I freeze up again?”
Right. She wanted advice. Friend advice. Practice partner advice.
“You'll be great,” I said, dying inside. “The practice sessions really helped your confidence. You're like a totally different person now.”
“Because of you,” she said softly. “I couldn't have done any of this without you.”
“That's what friends are for.”
Friends?
The word friends hung between us like a wall. She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something else, then closed it again.
“We should probably get back inside,” she said finally. “It's your party.”
“Yeah.”
But neither of us moved. We sat there in the dark with our goats, shoulders touching, both waiting for something that neither of us seemed able to say.
Finally, Artie stood up. “I'm really glad you're my best friend, Gryff.”
“Me too,” I lied, because being her friend while being in love with her was actually killing me.
After she went inside, I stayed with the goats a while longer. When I finally made my way back to the house, I found Flynn and Tyson in the kitchen, sharing a beer and talking quietly.
“The movie date should do it,” I heard Tyson say.
“You think so?” Flynn asked. “Maybe you should turn it up even more.”
“Trust me, he's about to crack.”
My stomach sank. They were talking about Artie. About how she was finally ready to open up to someone, to be vulnerable with Tyson on their date. Flynn was literally coaching Tyson on how to win her over.
“Hey,” I said, and they both turned to look at me with expressions I couldn't read.
“Hey, birthday boy,” Tyson said, raising his beer. “Great party.”
“Yeah,” I managed. “Great.”
Flynn was studying my face. “You okay?”
“Perfect. I'm gonna go check on Nana and Coach.”
I left them to their conspiracy, my chest tight with the realization that everyone, even my own twin, could see that Tyson was perfect for Artie.
Everyone except the goats.
But what did they know? They were goats.