Chapter Eight
Taylor
The next month goes by quickly between classes, The Beacon, and baseball practice. I avoid my mother, refusing to get sucked into her big black hole by only checking on Emma when I know she won’t be there.
I walk into my house the day before Todd and I visit Chase and am welcomed by the distinct aroma of marijuana. Cursing under my breath, I bound up the stairs to my sister’s door.
“Emma!” I knock, but there’s no response—just a man’s voice mingling with my sister’s. “Open this door!”
“Good Lord, Taylor, don’t get your panties in a twist,” she says, finally swinging the door open, clad only in a T-shirt and thong.
“Where’d you get the weed?” I ask through gritted teeth. That’s when I spot the guy lounging on her bed in nothing but boxers, smoking the joint right in front of me. Pushing past her, I snatch it from him.
“Out!”
“Taylor!” Emma screeches, following me into the bathroom.
I put the blunt out in the sink. “I want him out, now!”
The guy is so high, my temper doesn’t faze him. He simply puts on his clothes and trudges down the stairs without sparing either of us a second glance.
“Sheesh, Taylor! Just because you’re not getting any doesn’t mean you can cockblock me.” She strikes a pose with hands on her hips, and an awful image of my sister and that guy flashes through my mind.
“You’re barely eighteen years old!”
She flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Well, how old is he? Twenty? Twenty-one?”
She rolls her eyes. “So I like older guys—what’s wrong with that?”
“But don’t you ever wonder why an older guy would want to be with you?”
“If I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it!” She glares at me, then slams her bedroom door in my face.
I growl to nobody but myself, my forehead resting on the cold wood. “Emma, can we just talk about this?”
“No! Leave me alone!”
I stand there a moment longer, considering just that. Why am I spending so much time and energy trying to take care of her when she doesn’t want me to?
Because Chase did it for me.
The thing is, though, I accepted and appreciated Chase’s guidance—Emma doesn’t.
I think of all the free time I’d have if I didn’t spend it driving back and forth to Cleveland. I could date, or at the very least, practice.
“Fine. I’ll leave you alone,” I say, then turn away before I can change my mind.
The flight to New Orleans is packed with businessmen and football fans bound for the Super Bowl like us, so Todd and I have to squeeze into row twenty-seven, seats E and F.
He sticks his knee into the aisle and folds his arms in a way that makes his already massive wingspan somehow double, while I curl up against the window, knees pulled to my chest and earbuds in.
The plane hasn’t even left the gate before he pulls out a battered travel Scrabble set. “I brought this for us.”
I raise a brow. “Are you trying to get murdered on a flight? Because that’s how you get murdered on a flight.”
He grins. “I figure, if you’re going to murder me, I should at least make it interesting.”
Balancing the tiny board, he hands me my rack of letters, and I can’t help but laugh at how he tries to keep the tiles from launching into orbit every time the plane experiences turbulence.
He starts with JAW in the middle, which is a weak opening, and I counter with QUIZ on a double word score that leaves him gaping.
“That’s not even fair,” he says, already scribbling down my total. “I don’t even want to play anymore—clearly you’ve used up all the Qs and Zs in the entire set.”
“Next time, try opening with a word worth more than twelve points.”
“Fine,” he says, and then places DUNK on a triple letter, catching me off-guard.
I point a finger at him. “Don’t you dare start using basketball words.”
“It’s not just a basketball word—verb, to dunk as in a basketball or a cookie.”
I squint at it. “Okay, it’s a word, but not a good one.”
Time flies, and before we know it, we’re arriving at Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport. I catch sight of Chase as we come through arrivals and take off running. He wraps me in a warm embrace, twirling me around until I’m begging him to put me down.
“Well, let me look at you! It feels like forever since I’ve seen you!” Chase holds me at arm’s length. “You’re getting some real definition in these biceps, Tay.”
“Yeah, well, someone once told me if I want to really hit a ball hard, I’d need to lift weights.”
“Good to know you’re following some of my advice,” he says, poking me in the stomach. “Guess that means you don’t need me carrying your bag.”
I swing my backpack over my shoulder. “I only have a couple days’ worth of clothes in here anyways.”
“How you doing, Todd?” Chase asks, finally releasing me.
“Good, good, just happy to come along for the ride.”
Chase chuckles and then leads us to his car.
I look out the window during the short drive and tune out for a while, letting the Louisiana scenery whirl by like a fastball.
It’s not like Ohio or Missouri down here.
The trees get tangled in Spanish moss, everything green and humid—the air even tastes different.
Chase lives in a duplex in Crescent Springs, which is more of a wide spot in the road than an actual town, but it’s got its own gas station, coffee shop with a wraparound porch, and two bars that see more traffic than the post office.
At first glance, it looks like it’s about to fall apart, but the paint-chipped balcony seems to hold itself together out of spite.
He chose it for its proximity to Bayou Crescent University, where he’s studying sports law.
When we walk through the door, we’re greeted by the sound of a fan, even though it’s the beginning of February.
“Hey guys,” Chase says, leading us into the living room. “My sister Taylor is here. That’s Justin, Ryan, Dylan, and Blake.”
Each one waves at the sound of his name, even Dylan and Blake, who are engrossed in a video game.
“Chase said you play baseball for MSU?” Justin asks, looking up from his phone.
“I . . . uh . . . yeah,” I reply and internally berate myself. It’s just that he’s undoubtedly the sexiest guy I’ve ever seen—wearing only gray sweatpants.
“She’s been playing since she was like, what?” Todd turns to me, coming to my rescue. “Five?”
“Yeah, I used to tag along to Chase’s Little League practices, so the coach just let me join the team.”
He smirks. “And you’re good?”
I push my shoulders back. “Very!”
“Better than good—she had a .438 batting average last season,” Todd says, and then turns to me. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short.”
Justin’s eyes widen. “If that’s the case, you should join our baseball game tomorrow—you can play designated hitter. It’s just a city league, and we’re not all naturals, but it’s still good fun.”
“Yeah? That sounds great!”
“Cool,” Justin says, looking at Chase. “Sorry I gave you such a hard time earlier—I hate to say it, but I didn’t believe it until just now.”
My brother bursts out laughing and Justin joins him.
My cheeks flush. “Am I missing a joke?”
“Sorry.” Chase rubs his nose. “It’s just that Justin and some of the other guys were a bit . . . worried about having a girl stay with us for a few days, but I assured them that you aren’t much of a girl anyway.”
My jaw locks—stunned my brother would say something like that about me to his friends. Sure, I’m a tomboy when it comes to sports, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be feminine too. It just doesn’t happen all that often.
Wait—is that why I have no dating life? Because I’m not girly enough to be considered girlfriend material?
Chase’s forehead creases. “Taylor, what’s wrong?”
I suck in my lips. “Nothing.”
“Well, I’ll see you guys later,” Justin says, rising from his chair. “Gotta go pick up some beer for the party later.”
I turn to my brother, my head falling to the side.
“We’re just having some friends over to watch some Super Bowl pregame—you could barely call it a party.”
“You should have told me—I didn’t bring anything nice to wear.”
“What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”
I grind my teeth together. “Just point me in the direction of the nearest mall—I can pick something up real quick.”
“You really don’t have to wear something special.”
I stare at him as my heart thumps in my ears and I catch Todd subtly elbow Chase, which gets him to back down.
“Why don’t we all go?” he asks.
“You really don’t have to.”
“The whole point of you coming out here was to spend time with me.”
“And we will—we have the entire weekend.” Chase eyes me, his lips pursed as if he senses I have an ulterior motive and is weighing whether he should try and stop me.
“Fine.” He reaches into his pocket and hands me his keys. “Just don’t drive it off a cliff or something.”
My face relaxes into something resembling a smile. “I’ll be sure to avoid all cliffs.”
I bolt to Chase’s car before he can change his mind and pull up the directions to the nearest mall on my phone. Just as I’m about to put it down and let the turn-by-turn directions guide me, a text from Todd flashes at the top of my screen.
After typing out a quick reply, promising to fill him in later, I pull out of the driveway.