Chapter 4 #2
“So what made you pick biochem? Masochism? Hatred of sleep? Couldn’t think of a better way to torture yourself?”
Her laugh comes low and scratchy. It’s different from the others. I don’t think there is one ounce of polish or performance to it. I catch myself wanting to hear it again.
“I like solving puzzles,” she says, rolling the bottle between her palms. “And proving people wrong. That’s why I chose it.”
“Oh, so you’re one of those.”
She narrows her eyes. “One of what?”
“The chip-on-the-shoulder type. Quietly competitive. Not satisfied unless you’re ten steps ahead. Probably has a color-coded planner and a stack of notecards prepped and ready.”
“Okay, Mr. Public Health, you got all that from fifteen minutes of talking to me? You sure you’re not a psych major?”
“I tried to warn you about the bluntness.”
She narrows her eyes again, more impressed than annoyed. I think? I guess we will see. She doesn’t seem like the type of girl to hide her emotions.
Her lips twitch, and she lifts the bottle slowly to her mouth. “Alright, Sherlock. What else?”
“What else, what?” I lean back, pretending to be casual, but my eyes stay on her.
“What else did our little chat reveal about me? Go ahead. Five things. Impress me, Hayes. I want to be woo’ed.”
I’ve always been decent at reading people.
It’s a skill that has been forged into me.
In order to avoid getting hurt again, I’ve had to pay attention to the little details.
Most people take time. Layers, masks, tells.
But Rachel? I’ve just met her, and it’s weird how easy it is.
It’s like she’s not even trying to hide anything from me.
I start ticking them off.
“You showed up late today,” I say, tapping a finger against my bottle. “Not fashionably late. More like ‘I don’t want to be here, but someone guilted me’ late. My guess? You weren’t dying to come, and Margo made it happen.”
She doesn’t confirm or deny. She sips her bottle, eyes flicking over the rim at me with a faint smirk tugging at her lips.
“You also hesitate before you answer sometimes,” I continue. “I don’t think it’s because you don’t know what to say, but because you’re checking the room, seeing how people expect you to react.”
She blinks, just a twitch at the corner of her mouth. It’s enough of a sign to know I’ve caught something.
“You’re sharp,” I add. “Quick with a joke, quick with a comeback. Makes it easy to watch you hold a room, even if you’re standing in the background. But, I can’t tell if it’s because you enjoy it, or because it’s easier than letting anyone see you really.” I trail off, letting the pause hang.
Her head tilts, and I think she’s intrigued now. I lean closer.
“You’re the younger sibling.” The words roll off my tongue. “The one who’s quieter sometimes, watches a little more, works a little harder, and somehow ends up feeling overlooked. I might be wrong, but I get that vibe.”
Rachel smiles slowly this time, a little amused. “That’s four things?”
“And five—” I lift my beer, but making sure I keep my eyes on hers. “You’re craving a surprise. Someone to catch you off guard. I think you just want someone to actually notice you, not just the version you show to the room.”
There’s a beat of quiet. All I can here is the low thump of music from a nearby speaker. Her smile fades into something more thoughtful, but she tries to shake it off by giving me a dry laugh.
“Okay, that’s mildly creepy,” she says. “Maybe you should switch your major to psych.”
“I’m right, aren’t I?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual, but my eyes won’t leave her.
“I’m not confirming or denying.” She shrugs one shoulder and tips her bottle back. “Maybe your read is all wrong, and I just hate football.”
A breeze kicks up, ruffling the edge of her tank top, and it forces my eyes to trace down her body. Thankfully, her laugh breaks me from where my thoughts were headed.
“You’re not what I expected.”
“Yeah?” I respond, unsure of which way this could go. I’m pretty sure the last five minutes I went full creeper.
“I thought Josh’s best friend would be—I don’t know. Dumber.”
“Wow.” I bring my hand up, placing it over my heart as if she stabbed me there. “You wound me, Rach.”
“I said what I said,” she smirks into her bottle.
“Well, if we’re being honest,” I start as I dig into the cooler to replace her almost-empty beer. “I thought you’d be more annoying.”
“Rude.”
“And taller.”
Her jaw drops slightly. “Excuse me? What do you mean, Rhett? I’m like 5’8”, that is tall for a woman.”
“Well, compared to 6’3”, anything between 5’4” and 5’9” feels the same to me.”
She crosses her arms, fighting a smile. “There is such a huge difference between 5’4” and 5’9”. You’re being ridiculous.”
“And yet you’re still talking to me.”
“I’m not sure that is really up to me.” She swaps one leg over the other, pretending to look unimpressed, but the smirk tugging at her mouth gives her away.
“Even if I wanted to leave, I’d have to be able to rip Margo away from Josh.
And I know you’d think that would be relatively easy, seeing Margo is smaller than me, but she is feisty.
Plus, I’m too polite to walk away mid-conversation. ”
“Right,” I say, nodding solemnly. “Classic Southern manners. It clearly has nothing to do with my devastating charm.”
“Oh, definitely not that. I could come up with ten more reasons why I’m still here, and you wouldn’t find the word ‘charm’ on the list,” she deadpans. “For example, I’m mostly here for an anthropological study.”
Oh, this outta be good.
“Of what, exactly?”
She gives me a slow once-over. “Of what happens when an overconfident man is left unsupervised near a tailgate cooler and a stranger.”
I bark a laugh. “So this is research for your thesis, then?”
“Exactly. I think I’m going to publish a paper,” She brings her hands up and flashes them as she continues. “‘The Delusions of Males with a Height Advantage: A Case Study.’”
“Clever title,” I say, nudging her knee with mine. “Let me know if you need a quote for your abstract. I’m happy to contribute.”
She nudges me back. “Oh, I’m documenting everything.
You’re already test subject A. I think this is going to be a real medical study breakthrough.
But don’t worry, your contribution to science won’t go unnoticed,” she replies while giving me a wink at the end.
Heat rushes through me, as if she’d leaned in and kissed me full on the mouth instead.
Which is ridiculous, because she didn’t kiss me.
But it’s good to know something so small can land with that kind of impact. What the hell is happening to me?
“You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?”
Rachel shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe not all. But I’m pretty good at reading people, too. You’re not the only one with that skill, Rhett.”
“Yeah? Care to share? What’s your read on me?”
She pauses, and at first I think she might dodge the question. Then she looks right at me, and I’m suddenly nervous to hear what she thinks of me.
“You come off all laid-back and ‘charming.’” She uses air quotes as she says it. “But underneath that? I think you’re anxious. I think you have this need, or maybe I should say a want, to be the one people count on. The one who steps in when it matters, ie, the Public Health route.”
“I practically gave you that infor—” She cuts me off, sticking her finger up.
“But that doesn’t come from nowhere. That’s usually something you learn when you’ve seen what happens when no one shows up.
When you’ve had to be the steady one for yourself because someone else dropped the ball.
I’m thinking maybe it was a parent or ex-girlfriend, maybe?
” She wiggles her eyebrows, trying to read my face for the answer.
“Either way, someone made you feel like just being you wasn’t good enough to be needed.
So now you pick a major like public health, and you show up for everyone else, because somewhere deep down you’re still trying to prove you’re worth depending on. ”
I don’t say anything at first. The easy comeback dies somewhere between my tongue and my pride.
She isn’t wrong, and she didn’t say it like a challenge.
It came out as more of a fact she’d noticed, the way someone might say it’s about to rain.
But I’m definitely not in the mood to elaborate on that story for her, or all the reasons why she is right. So, I let it die.
“Alrighty then,” I murmur. “You’re not bad at this.”
“I told you,” she says, lifting her bottle toward me. “I like puzzles.”
I clink mine against hers. “And proving people wrong,” I remind her.
“Especially that.”
Rachel follows my gaze toward the corner of the parking lot, where Josh and Margo are shoulder-to-shoulder, laughing. She smirks, taking a slow sip of her beer.
“Wow. That is escalating quickly.”
“Your brother’s got no chill when he likes someone.”
“And apparently Margo doesn’t mess around either,” she adds, leaning back in her chair.
“You think they’ll actually hit it off after this?” I ask, letting my gaze flick between her and the couple.
“Looks like they already did hit it off. I’m not sure about Margo and whether or not she’s looking for a relationship.
I have really only known her for a couple of months now.
We met on Facebook and messaged each other about rooming together from one of those University meet pages.
However, knowing Josh, I give it ten minutes before he asks for her number. ”
“Ten?” I raise a brow, horror in my voice. “Come on, give my boy a little more credit. I’d bet he already has it.”
Her lips curl into a slow, genuine smile. “Maybe.”
“Before this, did you have any clue they’d hit it off?”
“Oh yeah,” she says. “The second I met Margo, I knew Josh would like her. She’s his type, but funnier than most of the girls he’s dated.”
I groan dramatically. “Don’t remind me about Holly from freshman year.” I palm my face, remembering.
“She was the worst,” Rachel laughs, a little snort mixed in. “Eight missed calls when Josh got home for Thanksgiving. When he ignored the ninth, she bombed him with texts. She was nuts.”
I glance back at Josh, see him handing Margo his phone, and chuckle.
“Guess you can mark a win in my column. You owe me one, Hayes,” she teases.
“I’d say you’re the winner… but it looks like you’re stuck with me, so maybe you’re the loser after all.”
Her grin flashes. “I don’t think I mind that outcome.”
I feel a warmth that isn’t from the beer. She notices it, leans forward with a playful frown. “Don’t let that go to your head.”
“Too late,” I reply, laughing. I reach back into the cooler for another beer. “You should have known, unwarranted compliments only add to the delusions of males with height advantages.”
I expected babysitting duty when Josh told me his sister was going to crash our tailgate today.
But Rachel Collins has a wit and an edge I never saw coming.
Our conversation stretched longer than it should’ve, well past the kickoff and past the second quarter, before I cared enough to listen to the game.
With Josh and Margo’s disappearing act, they left Rachel and me on the sidelines, half-watching the game and half-sparring in this effortless rhythm I didn’t know we would have.
I don’t know why, but I think I’ll remember the way she looked today with the sunlight catching the side of her face, cheeks a little pink from the heat. I know I will always remember the way her lips pressed around the top of her beer bottle.
Rachel. Josh’s little sister.
Yeah, I’m so fucked.