Chapter 5 Grace
Grace
BETTER TOGETHER CHAT
LANDON: Connor, you ready to escape to NJ?
CONNOR: Getting there. Gave Mom a list of stuff I need.
RAWLEY: Good luck with that.
LANDON: If you get stuck, send Gracie and me the list. We’ll knock it out for you and have it shipped wherever.
GRACE: Send me the list anyway, Con. I’ll stay on top of Mom to get it done.
RAWLEY: Our little Princeton man.
CONNOR: Think the word you’re looking for is ‘younger.’ I’m an inch taller than you already.
RAWLEY: Taller...but slower. Don’t you need speed in soccer?
CONNOR: So should I mention how Grace apparently killed you in a four-mile run last weekend?
CONNOR: Anyway, my position is as much about field awareness and intuition as speed.
RAWLEY: I know, little bro. Just fucking with you.
GRACE: Rawls, leave Connor alone or I’ll start asking questions here about Gretchen.
CONNOR: Who’s Gretchen?
LANDON: Yeah, who’s Gretchen?
RAWLEY: Smooth Gracie.
“I’m sorry, Grace, this proposal isn’t good enough,” Professor Carry says. I’d walked up after class ended as she’d requested.
I’m taking three classes this summer to speed up my MBA and finish after the fall semester. Two classes are going well, but my “Non-profits In Action” class is turning into a struggle.
“I love that you want to volunteer to help the animal shelter,” the professor explains. “However, the assignment needs to include a proposal to impact the organization in a more significant and specific way.”
I think of a counter-argument about how important volunteering is to the shelter, but ultimately retreat into my more comfortable place of agreeing with her. People pleaser side winning out.
“I understand, professor. Can I have another few days to figure out a better approach?”
I’m stumped on where to start. I don’t have the relationships in the community yet to ask for a role that aligns with the project assignment.
And it’s a big deal for me to get this right. The project is all semester long and fifty percent of our grade.
“That’s fine, but we need to finalize your proposal by next Friday.”
Shoot. One week from today. I don’t have anything else I can say in return, so I just nod.
When I go over to Landon’s the next day for dinner, I’m still stewing about what to do. He notices my bad mood and asks what’s wrong.
“I got feedback on a project, and it was bad. Kind of sulking about it, actually.”
He is milling around the kitchen, getting the food out for our meal.
“Oh man, that blows. I’m sorry. Is there anything you can do?”
I have been thinking of one solution. A nuclear option. Drop the class and make up for it in the fall semester.
Maybe extreme, but I don’t have any good ideas for the project. And if I can’t knock it out of the park, maybe it’s best to have a fresh start in the fall.
When I express this idea to Landon, he tries to comfort me in his typical big brother way.
“If it isn’t the right class, there’s no reason to force it.”
I smile at him, though it’s a mask, hiding my unease. I’m torn because I want to earn the course credit this summer.
“I don’t really want to talk about it.” I’m not always so direct with Landon, but my frustration has melted any facade.
Luckily, it’s easy to divert his attention by asking about Rori and his time in London. He takes up the subject happily, and I love everything I’m hearing.
My big brother seems to have found a woman he’s ready to date, for real. Finally.
Landon’s struggled the most with commitment issues stemming from our parent’s divorce. Really trust issues. Though, he hasn’t given women more than a couple of nights to build trust—until Rori.
It’s one of the reasons he’s held us so close as siblings.
“We’re the only ones we can count on. We’re never going to betray each other, no matter what happens with Mom and Dad,” he said as our family exploded.
I’m grateful for his stepping up and keeping us glued together. But he also deserves real love, and I think he might be on the way to getting it.
As Landon closes the refrigerator, his doorbell rings. I’m not sure who he’s expecting. He hasn’t mentioned anyone coming by.
When he goes to open the front door, the voice I hear is very recognizable, however.
“Hey man, I realized that I did want to come over for dinner as I was driving home. Eating alone, studying the playbook, sounded depressing.”
Johnson.
Ugh. I don’t have any makeup on, and I’m barely thrown together otherwise. I thought it was going to be just Landon and me.
It’s not that I expect any reaction from Johnson over how I look, but I can’t help wanting to be at my best.
I turn away from the door and duck down, making myself busy with food prep. At least he can’t notice my less-than-perfect appearance that way.
“Hi, Little Battle,” I hear from behind me. Again with the nickname. A little shiver runs down my spine. My body reacting to how self-conscious I feel, maybe?
“Hi, Johnson.” I don’t turn around.
Then an idea comes to me. Let me get out of here for a run. Escape entirely.
“So, Landon, when the oven finishes pre-heating, can you pop this dish in for twenty-five minutes?” I swivel back to face them, but I keep my eyes on Landon only. “I’m going to go for a run before dinner if that’s okay?”
I expect to move quickly out of the kitchen once he agrees.
Except it’s Johnson who replies.
“I’ll go with you, Little Battle. I didn’t get much cardio in today.”
What?
I’m unable to filter my flash of surprise as I finally look at Johnson.
He wants to run with me?
I can’t think of a nice way to avoid accepting his offer to join me. I guess I could say I want to be alone? But my being terrible at saying no triumphs.
“Okay, Johnson, let’s see if you can keep up.” There, I made a joke. Framed it like a challenge I’d give one of my brothers.
He smiles widely in response. “I’ve no doubt that I’ll be chasing you down the whole time.”
Hmmm.
Refusing to dwell on the situation anymore, I begin to leave the kitchen. “Just going to get my running shoes on.”
He pivots and starts walking behind me. “I’m already wearing sneakers, so I’m good to go when you are.” He turns back to Landon. “We’ll be back. Thanks for making dinner.”
Landon is out of my view, but I hear his amused response. “I think I can handle heating food up, J. Have a good run.”
Once my shoes are on, I open the front door, with Johnson following behind me. Stepping out onto the front porch, I take a few steps forward and then turn to face him.
I’m not going to worry about my makeup or lack thereof if we’re running.
“I’m going to stretch for a minute.”
He nods, and I begin my basic warm-ups on Landon’s deck with a sun salutation, my arms reaching up high. He mirrors my actions.
Only now, it’s not my body I’m focused on. When he extends his arms up to the sky, his shirt creeps up, showing a sliver of his lower abs.
And with it, the hint of his muscular V shape, covered by curly black hair, which disappears under his waistband.
God, that’s really sexy.
I move my eyes down a little more, below the waistband, and see the outline of hi—
What are you doing, Grace? a voice says. I suck in a breath quickly, and bring my view up to his face.
If he was someone I knew well, I’d probably tease him about whether his shirt shrunk in the wash.
But teasing Johnson is the last thing on my mind. How I reacted to that very male section of his body instead renders me speechless, full of surprise.
Since I moved to Orlando, there’s never been a time where Johnson’s affected me. Objectively, he’s attractive, obviously. The assumption that he’s an unserious womanizer has shielded me from being vulnerable to any deeper attraction, though.
Clearly, that protection has faded with my getting to see more sides of him.
Don’t make it a big thing, I tell myself. I’m just relieved he didn’t catch me looking.
“Do you have a path in mind? How long we going?”
His question helps wake me out of my spiraling thoughts and focus on our run at hand.
I’d expect him to be cocky, given his athletic prowess, yet he sounds open and curious instead.
“Well, normally I like to run up to ten miles on my daily routes.” His eyebrows shoot up at my response. “We don’t have enough time for that, especially if we take a quick shower before we eat. We could do four?”
“Four miles in twenty-five minutes?”
Now I get to be cocky. “Well, I could do more, but I figure you’ll want to keep a six-minute mile or so pace?”
He chuckles. “Sheesh, putting me in my place. Okay, let’s do that.”
We head down to the sidewalk, and I start us off on my route. Johnson follows my lead, running at my side, a couple of inches behind. He seems content to let me drive.
Fine by me. I prefer to be in control on a run.
Within a couple hundred feet of our starting spot, I turn right, and he does the same. I have a two-mile loop I’ve mapped out in Landon’s neighborhood before, so I figure we can circle that twice.
We’re both quiet until we complete the first mile, and then Johnson speaks up. “So, were you planning a longer run? I’m sorry if I’m making you shorten yours.”
On a more intense tempo run in my competition days, we’d never devote energy to chatter. With a casual outing like this though, it’s not difficult to talk.
“No, I did my normal one this morning. Right now I’m feeling kind of annoyed with a school thing, so I thought it might be good to work it out on a run.”
A diplomatic answer instead of the truth, since I was originally trying to duck out of hanging with him. But I probably would have used the run for that purpose anyway.
“Well, then I’m messing up your time to do that. Unless you want to talk about it?” He tilts his face a little my way, as if to watch how I respond.
“It’s not a huge deal.” I give a subtle shrug without breaking my stride.
He’s quiet for a moment but then glances at me again.
“Rawley got back to school safe and sound?”
“He did, thanks again for last weekend.”
“And your other brother, Connor, has he come to visit you and Landon much?”
“No, not this summer. He’s been focused on the U.S. national team because he’s trying to make the U19s.”
“The national soccer team for players under nineteen, right? Landon mentioned that.”
“Yes, he’ll play at Princeton, for sure. But the national team is his dream.”
“Nice. Landon’s always saying how tight you four are. It’s really cool.”
Realizing this conversation has been one-sided after his string of questions, I kick in my social graces.
“What about you? You have a sister, right? Was she into sports?”
“No, Lainie was more into math, tech, and school in general.”
“Well, those are good things to be interested in.”
“She’s so much older, I was alone a lot of the time growing up.”
“Like a de facto only child?”
He smiles. “Bringing out your Latin, I see?”
“You know Latin?”
“It was what I picked for my required language class. No pronunciations to learn and mess up.”
“Ha.”
“I’m joking. I didn’t mind school. I just happened to be better at throwing a leather ball around.”
“Too much fame and fortune.” My quip comes out without any thought. You’re relaxing around him.
“Thankfully.” He’s grinning. “I grew up like you guys. We never had more than the basics. My mom was in survival mode a lot of the time. Of course, I didn’t understand that as a kid, but I see it now.”
Much like the peek at his abs earlier, his transparency is a bit of a shock to my system. Only this time, it’s empathy that flares up in a way I would never have expected when I agreed to this run.
Pieces of the puzzle that make him, him, are starting to form into shape in my mind.
And now it’s even more evident why Landon and he are close beyond football—they both have strong emotional awareness, at least about the people they care about.
He clears his throat. “Anyway, enough serious talk. Although, if you want to chat about your issue with school, I’m here for it still.”
I consider the offer and decide to take it this time.
“I have a non-profit corporation class that’s focused on practical applications. I’m supposed to develop and execute a business concept to make an impact for an organization, and I don’t have any ideas on what to do.”
He doesn’t react initially, but then his face turns sharply to mine. “Tell me more?”
Okay, not what I thought would interest him. “It’s pretty flexible. Our professor said we can propose anything that helps the bottom line and makes a true impact. My friends’ projects range from a new business plan to a more operational role in increasing income.”
His eyes are lit up when I look at him again. “That seems kinda neat. What are you struggling with specifically?”
“Where to start, really. I’ve been so busy since I moved here that I haven’t gotten involved with any community organizations. And I want the project to be really good if I’m going through with it, not half-baked.”
“Grace.” Johnson’s voice carries a disbelieving tone. “Why wouldn’t you ask Landon or me for help with connections? We’re each involved with several local charities.”
My face twists in response. “I hate asking Landon for help on this kind of thing. He’s constantly bothered by people asking for connects in business.”
“You know he wouldn’t mind.”
I look at him again. “And, I mean, you and I haven’t actually talked much since I moved here.”
Whoa, I can’t believe I just acknowledged that. The progression of our conversation so far, combined with the endorphins from the run, have obviously shredded my normal “polite Grace” filters.
He looks almost as surprised as me that I spoke those words out loud. Then he shifts his expression.
His eyes take me in with unexpected softness and understanding.
“Let’s change that.”