Chapter 7: Shutout: Chapter 7

I’m never listening to Abby again.

Thanks to her, I’m wearing a lavender dress that’s more like a shirt. She assured me over FaceTime that it was perfect, but I discovered only too late that I can’t sit without the possibility of giving onlookers a peek at my Victoria’s Secrets. It wouldn’t be as big of a deal at a club, but it’s inconvenient at a house party. What am I supposed to do, remain awkwardly standing all night?

Fully worth it to see the way Tyler’s jaw dropped when saw me in this dress, though.

“I’m going to marry her.” Chase leans a shoulder against the stainless refrigerator, watching his girlfriend Bailey on the other side of the room.

Those are four words I never thought I’d hear leave his mouth. But times have changed, because the birthday boy is a little drunk, a lot in love, and the result is pretty endearing—even for him.

A grin tugs at my cheeks. “Oh yeah? When are you going to do that, Romeo?” Seeing my hulking, trash-talking, pain-in-the-ass brother whipped over a girl is so amusing it almost takes my mind off my wardrobe miscalculation.

“As soon as she’ll let me.” Chase shifts to face me, tilting his head. “What about you? Were you dating anyone back at ASU?”

This is further confirmation he’s several drinks deep. Generally, my brother would prefer to pretend that I lead the love life of a nun. Deep down, he knows that isn’t the case, but the denial seems to help him sleep at night.

“Single as a Pringle. Same as always.” I haven’t had a boyfriend since starting college, nor have I wanted one. Based on what I’ve seen of my friends’ experiences, college guys get complacent, gradually putting in less and less effort until you both resent each other and even the sex becomes a chore. It strikes me as a waste of time and energy, at least in this phase of my life.

I have, however, had a generous handful of hookups and a couple situationships. I doubt my brother wants to hear about those.

“Just stay away from the team,” he mutters, bringing his amber bottle of beer to his lips. “Most of them are assholes to chicks.”

There we go. The reason for this line of questioning has suddenly become crystal clear. Overprotective big brother mode: Activated.

“That won’t be a problem. I’m not into athletes, especially hockey players.” My cheeks heat, and I take a sip of my vodka Sprite to hide my face. While this claim is historically accurate, it feels borderline dishonest right now. They must put something in the water at Boyd because at least half the guys on my brother’s team are hot. In addition to Tyler, they have a new transfer who looks like he could moonlight as a male model. He’s a gazillion feet tall, has tousled sun-streaked hair, and a dimple in his cheek to die for.

That’s not to say I’m interested in the new guy. My brain has already been hijacked by Hades, his heavily tattooed counterpart. Still, a girl can appreciate nice things.

“That’s right,” Chase says. “I forgot you like pretty boys.”

“No, I don’t.” The hem of my dress rides up for the umpteenth time and I tug it down, wishing I had some kind of double-sided tape.

He cocks a brow but says nothing. Just gives me that “you’re full of shit” look that he’s perfected over the past two decades as my older brother.

“Maybe it’s a little true,” I amend. There’s definitely a common theme to my past hookups. Clean-cut and preppy; probably belongs to a frat; drives something ostentatious; bound for an overpaid professional position after college thanks to parental nepotism. I’m not sure why I keep gravitating toward that type when it’s like thirty-one flavors of disappointment in the bedroom. There’s a reason my nightstand drawer is fully stocked. Either I have to provide explicit, step-by-step directions like some kind of sexual GPS, or I give up and resort to taking matters into my own hands after the fact.

Mind you, there’s one noteworthy exception to this rule—and he’s sitting ten feet away.

Upon further reflection, I think I’ve got a new type.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay while we’re away next month?” Chase furrows his brow, scrutinizing my face like he doesn’t believe I’ll answer him honestly. “You could stay at Bailey and Shiv’s if you want. Or go see mom. She’d like that.”

“Can’t I just stay here?” I’m not clear on why he’s asking this. He’ll be out of town for several away games before this trip, and I’ll be by myself then, too. Does he not trust me without his supervision? Thinks I’ll throw a kegger in his absence?

He lifts a shoulder. “Wasn’t sure you’d want to be alone with Tyler. Don’t get me wrong, he won’t do anything out of line, but I get it if you’d rather take off for the weekend. I’m sure he wouldn’t be offended.”

Oh… shit.

Naturally, I hadn’t given much thought to my brother’s upcoming romantic getaway, which means I also hadn’t considered the implications of him and Dallas both being gone: two whole nights alone with Tyler. Just me and the highly tattooed sex god I hooked up with on Halloween. No big deal. Perfectly normal, everyday situation.

“How come he isn’t going with you guys?” I ask, playing dumb. Chase is more loose-lipped when he’s drunk, and I’m hoping he’ll give me some dirt to help fill in the blanks. What good is an older brother if you can’t exploit him a little for investigative purposes?

“Ty? On a couple’s trip?” He barks a laugh. “Tyler doesn’t date, Sera. He mostly just fu—” he catches himself before he finishes saying what we both know he was about to say. Why, I’m not sure. I’m not innocent, and it’s not like I have virgin ears. “He’s more of a hookup kind of guy. But he hasn’t been doing that lately, either.”

“Oh. I wonder why.” Now I’m really pushing the envelope, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take. I’m dying to know the answer.

Chase snorts, rolling his eyes. “Who knows? He’s a moody fucker sometimes.”

Bzzt. Thanks for nothing, elder sibling. I wanted the tea, not a glass of lukewarm tap water. The term “moody” could be used to describe the majority of guys I know.

That men somehow managed to convince the world women are the emotional sex is the biggest scam of all time.

“Speaking of moody.” I gently touch his arm to draw his attention away from Bailey again. “How have you been?”

His expression clouds over. “Fine.”

“Are you sure?” His life basically exploded at the end of last semester, and he’s been dealing with the fallout ever since.

“As long as I’ve got Bailey, fuck it. Everything else will pass.”

Fair enough. If anyone is resilient enough to make it through in one piece, it’s Chase. I’m glad he has someone to lean on.

“Are you talking about me?” Bailey strolls into the kitchen wearing a little black dress that Chase called “his real birthday present” earlier when he thought I was out of earshot. Her cheeks are rosy, her hazel eyes are glassy, and she’s clearly more than a little buzzed.

The way he does an immediate 180 in her presence is nothing sort of shocking. His attention zeroes in on her and his entire demeanor softens like a stick of butter over a hot stove.

Dipping his head, he brings his lips to hers. “I’m always talking about you, baby.”

Okay, now we’re tiptoeing into nauseating territory. He is still my brother, after all.

“Carter,” she whispers, giggling. “We have an audience.”

“Right…” He kisses her again before he reluctantly pulls away and wraps an arm around her waist, tucking her against him protectively.

Bailey gestures to the kitchen table with her red plastic cup. “Our game just wrapped up. Do you guys want to join us for the next round?”

It might be tempting—if I could lower myself into a seated position without committing indecent exposure. Maybe if I squeeze my thighs together tightly enough, it’ll be okay.

His expression sobers when he notices her drink is empty, and he studies her with tenderness in his dark eyes. “Do you need anything, James? Should I grab you a glass of water?”

Given how they met, it’s a reasonable enough question. She reportedly had too much to drink and threw up on my brother’s shoes outside a nightclub. The same one where I first encountered Tyler, incidentally.

It’s a cuter story than it sounds. At any rate, I find it endearing how innocent Bailey seems compared to Chase, who was doing beer bongs in our basement at sixteen.

“I already switched to water,” she confirms, looking sheepish.

Abby walks up and bumps my hip with hers. “Just about ready to go, Sera?”

“Go?” Chase echoes, eyeing Abby like she’s some kind of party-crasher.

“Yeah! Rob’s got us on the VIP list for XS. Wanna join?”

My brother’s lip raises in a none-too-subtle sneer. He looks like he’d rather have a root canal. Bailey discreetly elbows him, an unspoken reminder to be polite he’ll surely disregard.

“We’re good.” He catches my eye and raises his eyebrows pointedly. “Don’t you have an appointment with your academic advisor tomorrow? You know, to finish finalizing your course selections?”

Damn. Even I’d forgotten about that. How did he remember? Chase can barely run his own life.

“Not till later in the morning.”

He works his jaw. “Uh-huh.”

“Come on, Sera.” Abby’s cold hand wraps around mine, tugging. “Rob’s waiting in the car.”

Guilt overtakes me, and I hesitate with my feet frozen to the kitchen floor.

“I can stay,” I tell Chase. “I don’t have to go.”

“Do what you need to do, Sera.” He waves me off, but I can tell he’s pissed.

It’s a rock and a hard place for me because no matter what I do right now, someone is going to be unhappy with me. When I made these plans, I didn’t think Chase would care; clearly, I was wrong. But I promised Abby I would go out with her, and I hate breaking my word.

A fully preventable predicament—and also completely my fault.

I came to his birthday for a couple hours, at least. That should count for something, right? Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t even be here. I’d still be back in Arizona.

Abby looks down at her phone, then up at me expectantly. “Are you coming or not?”

When I hesitate again, she drags me away, and I let her lead me to the door. She takes shotgun while I climb into the backseat of Rob’s red Mercedes, greeted by new car scent mingled with his cologne. It smells good in a generic sort of way—you can tell it’s likely expensive—but it doesn’t affect me on a visceral level the way Tyler’s did earlier in the kitchen.

Rob’s dark blue eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “Glad you decided to come.”

“Abby wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Literally.

Half an hour later, I’m standing in the middle of XS clutching a vodka seven. I’m strangely disheartened knowing there’s no chance of bumping into Hades.

“Isn’t this amazing?” Abby yells in my ear to be heard over the music, dancing on the spot to the beat.

“It’s great!” If I weren’t being polite, I might point out it’s so crowded inside the fire marshal would have a stroke, the music is so loud it’s hurting my ears, and it’s oppressively humid. Normally, I’d never notice any of these things, and I’d be dancing on the spot right along with her. This should be fun. Why isn’t it fun?

Abby steers me over to a group of guys, immediately latching onto the hottest one and leaving me to act as her wingwoman. I have the unfortunate luck of getting stuck talking to the most obnoxious guy imaginable. He keeps calling me Sierra, and he tells me about his Tesla five times in the span of a ten-minute conversation. The real cherry on top is when he asks me if I want to see it, as if that’s not obvious code for trying to fuck me in the parking lot.

I’m more than a little relieved when Rob appears from out of nowhere and rescues me from Todd. Or Tadd. Or maybe it’s Brad. Not only could I not hear, but I also didn’t care.

“Thank you,” I tell Rob, leaning against a tall table we snagged near the dance floor.

“No prob.” He shifts his weight, moving a little closer to me. Blue and green strobe lights flash in the background, illuminating his features. Everything about him is polished, from his haircut to his perfectly tailored outfit. He looks like he walked straight out of the pages of GQ. Girls have been staring at him all evening, and I can understand why.

“Circumstances aside, I’m really glad you’re back, Sera.”

“Me too.” I’m not certain that’s true; it just seems like the right thing to say. I can’t objectively evaluate the situation when it hinges so heavily on my mother’s cancer.

“You should let me take you out to dinner sometime,” Rob adds.

Sixteen-year-old Seraphina would kill to be in my shoes right now. When I was younger, I had a massive crush on him. You know, the typical lusting after your friend’s hot older brother scenario. Because of our sizable age gap, this went unrequited for a long time on my end—as it rightfully should have.

Things started to shift between us as I got older. Incidental touches, lingering glances, that kind of thing. It continued to escalate until he sweet talked me into losing my virginity to him on prom night at Abby’s after-party at their parents’ place. I freaked out the next day because I didn’t want to hurt my friendship with her. When I made him promise not to tell, he was relieved; likely because of our age difference of sixteen and twenty-three.

Having my first time play out that way wasn’t the worst thing in the world. It taught me to separate sex from emotion, and that’s a highly useful skill.

Now Rob and I are just friends, and I don’t see him as anything more.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” I ask, confused. “Abby told me about her. Isabel?”

He shakes his head. “We’re not committed. Plus, it’s different with you.”

An uneasy feeling forms in my gut. This sounds like Male BS 101. Does Isabel know they’re not committed? And “different” with me how, exactly?

Before I can ask what he means by that, Abby butts in between us and sets a fresh drink in front of me that I didn’t ask for. She’s got Lana and Destiny in tow, two of her sorority friends from Kappa. Both are fine in that they’ve been perfectly nice to me, but I can’t escape the feeling there’s some thinly veiled resentment going on.

Destiny flashes me a fake smile from across the table. “Hey Serena!”

See what I mean? I’ve met her at least ten times.

Abby drains the last of her rum and Diet Coke and gestures to us with her empty glass. “Why are we wasting our time down here when we have VIP access? Let’s go upstairs.”

Somehow, that sounds even worse than staying on the main level. “I think I might go, Abbs.”

“What? No!” She points to the highball glass. “I just got you a refill. C’mon, Sera. Stay for one more drink. Please?”

“Hang on.” Glancing down, I check a text that just came through.

Seems he’s still a little miffed about earlier this week. Abby broke a glass in our kitchen after we got home at two in the morning and it woke him up. It was an accident, but I understand his irritation.

I lock my phone, then look back up at the table where everyone is staring at me expectantly. If I leave, I’ll be alone. That includes being alone with my thoughts—and they’re entirely too loud lately, especially at night.