21. CHAPTER 21
Ireclined on our living room couch, the smell of cake drifting in from the kitchen. Zach and I were talking about baseball until I stopped mid-sentence, processing what I was seeing, wondering if my eyes were deceiving me.
“Happy birthday, Gavin!” Easton said as he entered our house. Gavin had invited Easton, but I hadn’t thought he’d come. Easton and I weren’t friends again, and I didn’t want to be…but he wasn’t hating my guts like he had been the last couple of months, either.
“Easton!” Mom said, engulfing him in a hug. “I haven’t seen you since Christmas!”
Thanks for the reminder, Mom.
“I’ve been busy,” he mumbled, “but there was no way I was missing this dude’s birthday party.”
He lifted Gavin off the floor in a bear hug, causing Gavin to giggle uncontrollably. Zach raised an eyebrow at me, that lopsided grin curling up like he smelled drama coming.
“Come say hi,” Zach said, his legs dangling over the edge of the sectional.
Gavin and Easton joined us in the living room. I sat up to make room for Gavin next to me; Zach wasn’t so gracious, so Easton took a seat on the floor.
“How’s my favorite third baseman doing?” Easton said, fist-bumping Zach. Our starting left fielder, Tom, had gotten drunk at a party over the weekend and somehow fallen down a flight of stairs, breaking his collarbone. Coach Berrios had moved Donovan to left, opening a spot for Zach on the infield.
We were also 16-2 and gearing up for our playoff run. The time was coming.
“Just glad to be starting now,” he said.
Easton looked at me, just briefly, and gave a quick nod. I held his gaze for half a second before answering with one of my own, small and stiff.
Gavin’s friends streamed in, and I recognized a few of them—Shaggy and a few other guys who had played on Gavin’s travel team as well as Jake and a couple of his classmates.
When the living room became a little too crowded—and way too loud—I motioned to Zach, and the two of us went to the basement.
“Any idea Easton was coming?” Zach asked as he handed me my pool stick.
“Not really,” I said. “You break.”
Zach lined up his first shot, hammering the cue ball into the front of the triangle. The balls scattered, but none fell into a pocket.
“You want me to kick his ass for you?” Zach said, smiling at me.
“Start talking about anything else,” I said. I missed my first shot, and Zach ended up sinking four solids in a row. I ended up losing the first game quickly.
As I racked the balls for the second match, Zach said, “It wouldn’t hurt you to talk to him.”
I looked up at Zach, getting pissed. “Why do you and Gavin keep saying that? This shit is on him. If he wants to be friends, he can say something. I’m done putting myself out there.”
“He asked about you yesterday after practice,” Zach said.
My mood lightened a bit. “Why?”
“Because he wants to see how you’re doing, dumbass.”
“What’d you say to him?”
“I told him he should nut up and ask you himself.”
I choked out a laugh. “What did he say to that?”
“Nothing. I didn’t give him a chance to respond. I walked away,” Zach said. He stepped into his shot as I smiled, imagining Easton’s face when Zach had said that.
We finished up the second game with me running the last three balls. We decided we needed to rejoin the party, so I followed Zach upstairs.
“There you two are,” Dad said as we reached the first floor, the shouts of a dozen teenagers piercing my ears. “Have you seen your brother?” I scanned the house and realized someone else was missing from the party.
“No,” I said, “but I have a pretty good idea where he is.”
“Go get him, then,” Dad said. “It’s time to cut the cake.”
I ambled to the back porch and opened the sliding glass door. As I stepped onto the deck, the chilly night air hit my forearms. The sound of ball on bat greeted me before I saw Easton throwing to Gavin in the cage.
I shook my head as I walked across the deck. “Gavin,” I said, “Dad wants you inside at the actual party.”
“One more round,” he shouted back at me between swings.
“Half a bucket, then you need to come inside,” I said. I shivered as I watched Easton throw the rest of the balls. The two talked for a minute inside the cage before they came toward me.
“Couldn’t take a day off for your birthday?” I said, throwing my arm around Gavin’s shoulder and messing with his hair.
“Someone else is hitting today, so I needed to,” he said. I grinned, chancing a glance at Easton, who was smiling as well.
The three of us walked inside, and again, the noise hit me like a truck.
A dozen thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds were trying to shout over each other.
The smell was possibly worse; a couple of them definitely didn’t know how to use deodorant yet.
My parents sat at the kitchen table, hoping nothing would break.
“There you are,” Mom said. “How about you get your friends so they can eat?”
The party continued for another two hours. I hung out with Mom and Dad, avoiding Easton as much as possible. Gavin’s excitement showed when he opened his present from our parents, which was the new bat he had wanted for Christmas.
Personally, I was relieved when the place quieted.
I was helping Mom clean the kitchen, and the only people left in the house were my family—and Easton.
Easton and Gavin were in the dining room, sitting at the table just within ear range.
I kept cleaning a spot right near the door—not that I was eavesdropping or anything.
“I didn’t want to give you your present until everyone else left,” Easton said. He had a wrapped box in his hands. I tried to figure out what it was, but I had no idea what could be in a thin, rectangular package.
“You didn’t need to get me anything, dude,” Gavin said, taking the gift in his hands.
“There’s a catch, though,” Easton said. “You need to give me one of yours. Nonnegotiable.”
“One of my what?” Gavin asked.
“Just open it.”
My legs moved before I could stop them. I crossed into the doorway, arms folded tight across my chest, trying to look casual while stealing a glance. My fingers dug into my biceps.
Gavin ripped off the wrapping paper, revealing a brown picture frame. I scrunched my nose and couldn’t stop myself from getting a better look.
Centered in the middle of the frame was a jersey with the name Chase across the top. The number 5 was under it in big green font; the jersey was from Easton’s time at Ashland.
“I know I won’t make the ceiling, but I figured I might make a side wall,” Easton joked.
Gavin got up and wrapped his arms around Easton’s back. “This is awesome, Easton. I’ve got an extra jersey that we haven’t hung up that I can get for you.”
“Nice,” Easton said, playfully shoving Gavin away from him.
“Let’s go get this thing hung up,” Gavin said. “Tanner, can you go grab the tools? Meet us there.” He ran off before I could say no, leaving Easton and me in the room alone.
I walked out without looking at him. How did he keep charming my entire family like this? He was like a snake-oil salesman.
I wanted to hate him for it.
I found the hammer in our garage, grabbed a couple of nails, and was in the bedroom in less than five minutes. Easton had one of Gavin’s framed jerseys in his hands, and I knew that was going right next to his bed when he got home.
“Shit,” Gavin said when I entered the room, “I’ll be right back.” He sprinted out, leaving Easton and me alone for the second time in under ten minutes. I planted myself at the window, pretending to study the crooked garden fence like it was the most interesting thing I’d ever seen.
I spun around when I heard the door slam. “You two need to check your phones,” Gavin said from the other side of the door.
With a snap, I pulled out my phone, and I read the text from Gavin.
I have one last present I want from you two. Make up.
My phone sat in my hand, on the verge of getting chucked across the room. Instead, I walked to the door and tried to slam it open. It didn’t budge.
“Not funny, Gavin,” I said.
“I’m not joking,” he said. His voice came from just outside the door. I figured he had hammered a chair under the handle and was doing everything in his power to keep it closed.
“Neither am I!” I shouted.
“Quit being a dick and talk to Easton,” Gavin said.
“If you don’t let us out of here, I’m going to break your arm.”
“Break both of them when you get out. I don’t care. Just talk to him,” Gavin said. His voice was pleading, willing me to listen to him.
I sat down on the floor, my back against the door. I refused to look at Easton now. I wasn’t going to give in to the demands of a fourteen-year-old. If Easton wanted to talk to me, he’d have to be the one to start.