24. The Group Project
The Group Project
BECKER
Between classes, hockey practices, and Talia’s part-time job, lining up everyone’s schedules to meet up for our group project wasn’t easy.
But we don’t know much about this Ancient Roman dish we have to replicate, and the project isn’t just about presenting the class with a dish.
We need to back up everything with solid research and a bibliography of references.
With this course being both about art and history, our professor expects us to use historical, literary, and visual art sources wherever possible.
We need to work hard since this will account for fifty percent of our grade. And every session needs to count, because once the hockey season starts with the first official game next week, my schedule—and Mack’s, of course—will only get busier.
By the looks of it, I’m the first one at the library where we’re supposed to meet up.
I look at my smartwatch, irritated. I agreed to meet Vaughn at the gym for a late evening weightlifting session in ninety minutes. As if practice earlier wasn’t enough. But these days keeping busy is a saving grace. It helps to quiet down the incessant noise in my head.
Everything in my life feels uncertain right now, and I have to make choices that will have a huge impact on my future.
Do I enter the draft or do I bet everything on my agent getting me a contract? I’m not picky about where I go, geographically speaking at least.
I’m happy to stay in the U.S. but I’m also open to going to Canada.
My only requirement is that my new team have at least solid playoff chances.
I don’t want to start my pro career with a struggling franchise.
The risk of fading into obscurity is too high.
All it takes is one wrong move and I can kiss goodbye to all my dreams of winning the Stanley Cup.
It’s especially important to me because my dad never won one despite a great career where he won an Olympic gold medal.
The problem is that in hockey, any achievement pales in comparison to the Stanley Cup. You can win all the trophies you want, but if you miss your shot at the cup, that’s all people will remember about you.
Case in point, whenever anyone mentions Kendrick Shayba, the first thing they say is that he had an impressive career, but he never won a Stanley Cup.
The next thing they say is that Kendrick has two sons who are both following in his footsteps, so there is still a chance that the name Shayba will be associated with the Cup in the future.
And of course everyone’s bet is that Mack will be the one to succeed where our father never did despite his undeniable talent. Especially after he was on that reality show this summer, the hockey world is watching my brother’s every step on his way to greatness.
Our parents don’t say it out loud, but I know they agree with the specialized press.
I want to, no I need to prove them wrong.
Mack is a force to be reckoned with on the ice, and all the attention he receives is well deserved. I know he’s going to be a star, and I want that for him.
Is it that wrong that I want the same thing for myself too? Does it make me an asshole that I would like to hear my name mentioned before his for once in my life?
I’ve been waiting by the library’s front desk for ten minutes and no one’s here.
Talia messaged our study group chat last night that because we struggled so much to find a time that worked for everyone, she was unable to book a private study room. We agreed that the first person who arrived would do their best to get us a table.
It looks like that’ll have to be me.
The library is crazy busy for an average Thursday evening when it isn’t time for even midterms or finals.
I guess that with the huge influx of freshmen on campus, all the new students are eager to socialize, and what better place than the library or the dining hall?
Luckily, I find an empty table with four chairs on the first floor. It’s toward the back of the room, but this floor is all dedicated to history, so it’s kind of perfect.
After taking possession of the table, I message the group chat to let the others know where to find me.
The first response I get is from her.
Talia:
Perfect. Macklin and I are almost there. See you soon, Becks.
Great. Of course, they’re even showing up together. Since my brother began dating the woman I like, they’re practically joined at the hip.
Thoughts of Talia keep me up at night. I regret not going in for a kiss when I walked her home the night we met. Maybe now she would be with me instead.
But Mack has known her longer. Maybe the truth is that I never had a shot, and if I had tried to kiss her, she might have turned me down.
Jesus, I’m fucking obsessed.
“Ah, here you are.” Gen turns the corner and sees me in the nook where our table is tucked away. “They’re about to get here. I saw Mack’s car pulling into the parking lot.” Her face contorts into a disgusted expression.
“Hey Gen.” We haven’t spoken much after that forced kiss at the first party of the year. But it doesn’t take a genius to see that her feelings about Mack’s new relationship aren’t that different from mine.
A part of me is still mad at her for the stunt she pulled. But I decided to cut her some slack because I understand that she acted out of desperation.
Gen is far from perfect, but she’s one of my oldest friends and I’ve never been able to stay mad at her.
Rather than taking the chair next to me, Genevieve lowers herself into the one across from me.
Her intentions are as clear as day. She’s trying to force Talia and Mack not to sit next to each other.
“Hey guys.” Talia and Mack arrive two seconds later.
Of course his arm is wrapped around her shoulders. I had never pegged my brother as the touchy-feely kind of guy. In all the years he was with Gen, he was never into PDAs.
“About time.” Gen bitches. “You should have some respect for other people’s time, Talia. The least you could do if you insist on doing the project together rather than each of us working on a part of the assignment is to show up on time.”
“Hey,” Mack barks out. “Take a fucking chill pill. You could talk if I hadn’t spent almost five years of my life waiting for you to get ready every time we had to go somewhere.”
The glower on Gen’s face could incinerate every life form within a ten-mile radius. “At least I was late so I could look good. What’s her excuse?”
Talia doesn’t react to the insult. But I know she picked up on it by the way she bites down on her bottom lip before forcing her lips into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Sorry, my mom came by on her way to work and she wanted to drop off her famous triple chocolate fudge brownies. So I decided to bring them over for us. Macklin and Becks had practice not long ago, and I’m sure they must be hungry.”
She places the foil pan in her hands on the table.
“Brownies?” Gen’s eyes light up, her manicured hand reaches over to the pan, but stops short of touching the foil. “Wait, are they fat free?”
Talia shakes her head. “They’re brownies. There’s butter and probably oil in there too. It’s my mom’s secret recipe; she won’t reveal it to anyone, not even under torture.”
“Ugh.” Gen’s glossy lips twist with disapproval. “Are they at least low carb and sugar free?”
“Again, Gen. They’re brownies. There’s sugar, fat and flour in them. So no, they’re not low carb and definitely not sugar free.”
Gen pushes the pan away from her. “Then you can keep ‘em. I know you don’t care about your appearance, but I have to watch my figure. I’m ten pounds away from my ideal weight.”
That can’t be right. Gen is runway-model thin. She definitely doesn’t have ten pounds to lose. I open my mouth to say that, but Mack is faster than me to react.
“Whatever, all the more for us. You don’t need to be rude about it, though. Now, scoot over. I’d like to sit next to my girlfriend.”
“Then you and your girlfriend should have gotten here on time, right?” Gen’s tone is ten times more sugary than any baked goods in town.
But the passive aggressive edge to it leaves the same bad aftertaste in my mouth as the stuff with synthetic sweeteners she’s always favored.
Mack opens his mouth to argue, but Talia pulls out the chair next to me with an eye roll. “It’s ok, Macklin. Let’s not waste anymore time and get started with this project.”
With her sitting between me and Gen, there are no obstructions to prevent me from looking at Talia.
Fuck, if possible, she’s even more beautiful than I remembered. Every time I see her, she looks more gorgeous.
Tonight her long blonde hair is down in soft, loose waves. A black halter top hugs her perfect chest. But my favorite thing in her outfit is the pleated black miniskirt with a pink and white tartan pattern.
It rides up to reveal a hint of Talia’s toned thighs when she sits down, and my jealousy over the fact that she isn’t mine makes it hard to breathe.
Talia
“So,” I begin, doing my best to ignore the heat that I can feel beginning to rise to my face. “Has anyone done a quick search of what garum is?”
The other three people at the table shake their heads.
“I have.” I say.
“Nerd,” Gen snickers.
“Gen.” Macklin bites out at his ex’s taunt. “If we have to get through this project, we need some ground rules. You need to be nice to Talia.”
Genevieve rolls her eyes. “But I was being nice. Isn’t being nerdy all the rage lately? It was a compliment, actually.” Her tone says it was anything but.
I ignore her, too flustered by the two pairs of intense blue eyes that are burning holes in my very soul.
If being the object of Macklin’s or Becker’s attention was elating, having both brothers stare at me at the same time might be more than I can take.
Becks’s eyes haven’t left me since the second I arrived with Macklin’s arm wrapped around my shoulders.
Is it possible that Macklin was right and that, regardless of how he felt the night we met, his brother wants me more now just because I’m with him?
I know I didn’t imagine the flirty vibe between me and Becks on that first night. And I’ve been racking my brain wondering why he never made a move.
But we have work to do. This isn’t the time to think about the two hottest brothers on the planet and the weird predicament I’m in.
“So,” I pull out my laptop and the surface level research I’ve done so far.
“Garum was a condiment. It was sometimes used as a seasoning or as a sauce. From what I understood, it was fermented. Kinda something in between our modern fish sauce and anchovy paste. The Romans loved it and put it on pretty much everything. Sometimes even on baked goods.”
Gen’s face gets more disgusted with every word I say. “Ew.”
For once I can’t blame her. “It doesn’t sound very appetizing to me either, but I guess the Ancient Romans had different taste than us when it came to food.”
“Sounds like it,” Becks agrees. “So where do we find a recipe for this garum?”
“That’s going to be the hardest part of our project.
I think we should divide our project into different categories, and we could each take one or work in pairs.
We should look at our literary sources, sources in paintings, mosaics, crockery, pottery and china.
If two of us look at the sources in literature and the other two look at figurative art, we could then split the work into individual parts if there is too much material.
When it’s time to prepare the garum, we could all work together. What do you think?”
Macklin immediately agrees. “Sounds like an excellent plan.”
I smile, grateful for his support. “I was thinking about doing the literary sources since I took Latin and advanced Latin.”
“I’m not trying to insult you, Talia,” Gen says with a glare in Macklin’s direction. “But see why I called you a nerd earlier? I mean, seriously, why would anyone take Latin? What use does it have in today’s world?”
She isn’t the only one who feels this way.
I’ve heard this argument before. “I’m a history major, Gen.
Ancient history is my favorite, and Latin is very useful since Rome was such a huge part of that world.
My dream was to go do a year or at least a semester in Italy, but I had to work to help pay my way through college, so it wasn’t financially possible.
The next best thing was to study Latin here.
Maybe one day I’ll get to go to Rome post graduation.
So, is it ok if I take the literary source research? ”
“Fine,” Gen agrees. “I’d rather do the art part. It makes more sense with my major, anyway.”
I turn to look at Macklin and Becks, but they’re both looking at me. “What about you, guys? Who wants to work with me?”
“I’ll be your research buddy.” They say at the same time.
Macklin shakes his head. “I’m going to work with Talia, and you can work with Gen.”
“Why do you get to decide?” Becks argues.
“First off, because Talia is my girlfriend. And I’m also a very fast reader, remember? So it makes sense I do this with Talia and you help Gen with the art part.”
Macklin’s lips curl into a winning smile, but there’s a tick in Beck’s jaw as he bites out a curt agreement. “Fine.”