16. Sawyer
SAWYER
The dishes are piled in the sink, and I throw them one cursory glance before plunking down onto a dining room chair and resting my heel on the one adjacent to me.
Grabbing my phone, I open up Temple Run and figure I’ll play until everyone has finished getting ready for the day.
There’s a very chill, relaxed vibe in the air this morning, and I’m sure it’s because half of us are hungover.
I’m not feeling too bad.
Sure, I had to down a few shots last night, but nothing drastic, and I was smart enough to sip at my drink as the night wore on.
People were too drunk to notice, but I wasn’t about to get so wasted that I needed help going up the stairs.
I did crash pretty fast, though, I think.
But I’ve woken up with only a mild headache, which I’m sure will dissipate after a few more glasses of water.
Snatching my cup off the table, I finish gulping it down just as Ben saunters down the stairs. Tugging his T-shirt straight, he dips his chin with a closed-mouth smile that quickly morphs into a gaping frown when he notices the mess in the kitchen.
I softly snicker at the fleeting look of horror before focusing back on my phone. Renewing the game, I start running away from psycho monkeys, jumping across destroyed bridges, and trying not to fall off the narrow path as I get my character as close to the treasure as possible.
I’m not about to get up and clean the mess.
I cooked! And the rule is that if you cook, you don’t have to clean.
Why do you think I got my ass in the kitchen when I was just a kid?
I made that decision the first time I heard my dad say to Mom, “No way, you are not doing the dishes. You cooked, and the cook should never have to do cleanup.”
I may have only been like four or something, but I remember that so clearly, and I was determined to learn how to cook as fast as possible.
And then it became a necessity.
My insides deflate, my mind jumping back to those early days after my sister died.
Mom couldn’t do anything. Shit, hardly any of us could.
I remember dragging a stool into the kitchen so I could reach the bread, and I started by making peanut butter sandwiches for everyone. I guess I just learned from there.
When my parents separated, Mom had to take on extra work.
I mean, she didn’t have to—she chose to because she was so fucking miserable, she decided that busyness was the only way to counter it.
I stepped into the kitchen because she was never around.
And then when Dad moved back home, I hung out in the kitchen so I didn’t have to be around them so much.
And I guess I just started to enjoy cooking.
So… now I cook.
But I don’t fucking clean, and I’m not planning on changing my stance on that anytime soon.
Ben’s at the sink, humming to himself while he plunges his hands into the soapy hot water and scrubs the dishes.
“Why are you so happy?” I mumble, keeping my eyes on my phone.
He laughs. “Because I get to see my girlfriend this afternoon. She’s coming for the party.”
“Nice.” I nod, glancing up in time to see his dopey smile.
Shit, he’s gone and fallen hard for this one.
From memory, he fell hard for some chick last year too, but that all went to shit.
I still remember that day when he arrived at basketball practice.
I’d never seen him so enraged. Something about a baby and lying women and I don’t know.
I avoid emotional drama at all costs, so I hung out on the other side of the court while the coaches huddled around him.
He left a while later, and all the coaches said was “Ben isn’t feeling well.”
Whatever.
I didn’t want to follow it up, but I’ve always been curious.
Should I ask?
No! Do not ask. Avoid the emotional drama, dude. You know this.
Clamping my lips together, I miss a jump and watch my character fall into oblivion. Shit, I don’t know why the hell I keep playing this game.
Because every time you get a little farther along the course, you’re addicted all over again.
“So, where is everyone?” Ben rinses off the frying pan and stacks it in the rack.
“Darian and Charli have gone for a run. Crazy-ass people.” I raise my eyebrows while Ben laughs.
“Running on their day off. That’s dedication.” The side of his mouth lifts into a grin.
“Those two always have way too much energy to burn, and Dee probably has some stupid theory that exercise will kick his hangover or some shit.” I shake my head.
“As for the others, I think Mac is nursing a coffee and looking like shit out on the deck.” I glance over my shoulder and spot his leg stretched out, his toes clinging to the railing of the deck, while a puff of smoke wafts away from him. Smoking. Gross. I’m staying inside.
“I think Nix is still upstairs sleeping. I tiptoed past her room and heard her snoring.” Ben grins.
I laugh and bob my head. “I think Enzo and Adonis are trying to fool themselves into thinking they’re pool masters.”
“There’s a pool table?” Ben’s head pops up. “Where?”
“Game room. Downstairs.”
“This place has another floor?” His eyebrows rise.
I laugh. “There’s this basement, man-cave area. It’s pretty cool. You should go check it out.”
“Yeah, I will after I’ve finished cleaning this up.”
The glass door slides open, and we both glance over to see Jimmy walk in. He has a towel wrapped around him, and I wonder how far he swam. I saw him jump into the water after he’d finished his Tai Chi. Damn, the guy’s a machine. His body is so cut, he must be like 5 percent body fat.
“Morning.” I raise my hand in greeting.
He gives me a shy nod, then acknowledges Ben before padding up the stairs.
I share a look with my teammate and then can’t help a soft laugh. Jimmy’s kind of weird, but I like him. He seems like a good guy. He made sure everyone got to bed last night and didn’t end up sleeping on the table or anything.
A few seconds later, Mac’s shuffling into the house.
“Hey, do you need any help organizing things for tonight?” Ben asks him.
Mac grunts, scratching the top of his messy black hair and flicking the stud in his lip with his tongue. His blue eyes look a little glazed. Yep, he’s high.
“You’ve got food and enough drinks?” Ignoring his surly expression, Ben keeps going. “I’m happy to go pick up some stuff. Just tell me what we should get.”
It’s obvious Mac is in no condition to be thinking about this right now, so I jump in. “I say we keep it simple and just have hot dogs and chips. Stuff that takes minimal effort. How many people do you think will show up?”
Mac shrugs and mutters, “I don’t know. Fifty? If they all bring friends, maybe a hundred or more.”
Ben’s eyebrows jump high, and he’s not even bothering to hide his surprise as he looks around and obviously tries to work out if there’ll be room for fifty plus friends.
“There will be.” I nod and point to the deck. “This place is huge. Plus, there’s the deck.”
“True,” he murmurs. “But that’s a lot of people to cater for.”
And it’ll get batshit crazy in here if everyone’s drunk and out of control.
I bite my lip, then glance back at Mac. “Maybe we should just stick to beer tonight, hide the spirits, you know?”
He nods. “We’ll get a few kegs.”
“I can go do that.” I stand up. “And I’ll get all the food as well.” Looking at Ben, I point at him. “Want to come with?”
“Yeah, sure.” He dries his hands on a towel before hanging it neatly back up. The dishes are obviously gonna drip-dry. Fine with me.
“Take my credit card.” Mac points to a side table, and I spot his wallet. “Get whatever you want. Thanks, guys.”
“You don’t have to pay for everything,” Ben balks. “We can all pitch in.”
Mac snickers, his blue eyes glinting. “My house, my money, dude.”
Ben and I share another look before I shrug and reach for Mac’s wallet. The guy is loaded and obviously doesn’t care if everyone knows his PIN number, as he openly shares it with me.
Ben’s mouth drops open, and I can’t help another laugh. Mac and Ben couldn’t be more different if they tried.
“Come on, let’s go.” I tug on Ben’s sleeve and ask if we can take his car.
He nods, still dumbfounded as we head out the door.
“It’s probably Daddy’s money we’re spending,” I remind him as we slip into Ben’s car.
“Yeah, I guess. But hasn’t the guy ever heard of security? What if we go and spend up big on stuff for ourselves?”
“We’re not gonna do that. And Mac knows it.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Ben carefully reverses, avoiding cars as he maneuvers out of his space. “My parents just always drilled into me that you keep that kind of information safe. Never share passwords or PIN numbers, you know?”
“Yeah. Mine too. But Mac’s obviously more relaxed.”
“Yet he’s also uptight. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah.” I laugh and bob my head. “Wonder what his life must be like. He’s a hard one to figure out. Super rich, obviously. Rebel child.”
“Obviously,” Ben murmurs, accelerating up the drive and onto the road.
“But I’ve also heard he’s stupidly generous.
Jimmy told me that the guy usually tips 100 percent and then tries to get out of there before the waitstaff even notice.
He doesn’t want the glory; he just seems to love giving his money away. ”
“Or his daddy’s money,” I say again, smirking this time.
Must be nice.
My parents weren’t super rich growing up.
We did okay, but we were a one-car family, if you get my drift.
Most of what I owned was secondhand. My bike was a Craigslist purchase, my clothes were hand-me-downs from older cousins.
That type of thing. We always had enough, and I never went without. It was just never brand-new.
“I like that he’s generous and not a tight-ass, even if it isn’t his money. I mean, his dad sure has enough. Last I read, the guy is a multibillionaire. I’ve lost track of how many companies he owns.”
I shake my head, not even knowing what Mac’s father does, but not wanting to ask either. I think Mac wants to remain a mystery to us all, and I’m fine with that.
Reaching forward, I turn up the music and bob my head to the beat. The drive into town doesn’t take too long, and Ben finds a place to park easily enough. He’s telling me about his girlfriend. I didn’t ask, he just started talking—telling me how they met online and how loved-up he is.
He never dropped the L-word, but he’s so obviously into her.
It’s hard not to roll my eyes at how sappy he’s being.
No human is as perfect as he’s making Mandy out to be.
When he finally pauses, I give his shoulder a light slap. “Good for you, man. Glad things are going well.”
I’m hoping it’s enough to wrap up this thing, but then he asks me, “How about you? Anyone special on your radar?”
I snicker and shake my head. “Not now. Not ever.”
“What?” Ben grabs my arm, pulling me to a stop just outside the liquor store. “Not ever?”
With a shrug, I try to explain it as simply as I can. “Relationships aren’t all they’re cut out to be. Seems like hard work to me. I like being single and plan to stay that way.”
“What about kids and stuff?”
I clench my jaw, looking away from him and shaking my head. “Don’t need ’em. I’m a happy bachelor.”
Ben gives me a skeptical frown, and I force myself to look as unaffected as I can. I’m not about to tell him that growing up in a house with warring parents can put a guy off ever falling in love. Sure, after their split, they got back together again, but should they have?
And as for kids? Why would I go to the effort of having them only to lose them?
My parents never got over Louisa’s death. Shit, I don’t know if I did either.
She was two, and I’ve never heard my mother scream like that. It was a guttural, heart-wrenching sound that will ring in my ears forever. It was seventeen years ago, and I can still hear it as clear as day.
So, no. I don’t need the whole wife-and-kids thing.
I’m happy with casual hookups and lots of friends. I’ll never need more than that.