Chapter 8: Shutout: Chapter 8

Maybe Chase is right; maybe Abby is a bad influence.

Then again, it’s not like she forced me to drink last night. I’m paying for it today, though. My head is throbbing, my mouth is desert dry, and I’m freaking exhausted.

Given my sad state of affairs, my appointment with my academic advisor to finalize course selections this morning is more than a little painful. What possessed me to schedule that the day after Chase’s birthday?

I hit Starbucks to reward myself for surviving and come straight home for an emergency hangover bath. Perching on the edge of the tub, I adjust the temperature on the faucet as the water runs. While I should finish unpacking, storage space has been an issue and it looks like a clothing store exploded all over my bedroom. I’d rather not deal with that today. Or ever. Maybe if I ignore the mess long enough, everything will magically organize itself.

At least no one is home to judge me for being a sloth in the middle of the day. The unforeseen upside to having three varsity athlete roommates is that so far, they’re hardly around. Tyler’s even less present than Chase and Dallas because he works with some private goalie coach in addition to everything else. I also overheard him saying something about having a nutritionist and a meal plan. I don’t know how they juggle everything. It seems exhausting.

My phone chimes on the counter next to me with a text from Abby. We go back and forth for a few minutes until my battery dies abruptly, cutting us short. I forgot to charge it—again.

With the tub half full, I toss in a handful of Epsom salts, a few drops of eucalyptus oil, and some fancy detoxifying peppermint bubble bath, watching the iridescent bubbles multiply on the surface of the water.

Satisfied, I light a few pillar candles on the counter and drop my white terrycloth robe before climbing into the tub. I’d normally listen to a book but I’m too lazy to grab my charger from upstairs. I close my eyes, basking in the warmth of the water instead. All of my worries slowly melt away. Maybe I’m getting better at compartmentalizing, or maybe I’m just too tired to care.

Once the water has cooled from nearly scalding to lukewarm, I lather up my leg and reach for my razor. The blade is midway up my calf when the bathroom door swings open. To my horror, Tyler is standing in the doorway.

He’s fully clothed… and I’m fully naked.

Our eyes lock and I yelp as the razor slips from my hand, disappearing into the sea of foam. A lightning-quick scan of the room reveals that my towel is on the counter, my robe is on the floor, and both are firmly out of reach. My only option is to huddle awkwardly behind the edge of the tub.

“What are you doing?” I demand, gripping the cold porcelain ledge.

Tyler freezes on the threshold and removes an earbud from one ear, his jaw practically unhinged. “I—what are you doing?” He gives his head a shake and averts his gaze, turning so his back is facing me.

“What does it look like? Taking a bath.” At least the massive mountain of bubbles affords me some degree of privacy. They’re nearly up to my neck, and I’m not sure he could even see anything from where he’s standing. Although I can’t say for certain that he didn’t, either.

“In the middle of the day?”

“Is that a crime? Didn’t you hear me?”

“Hear what?” He throws his arms in the air. “You weren’t making any noise.”

“I’m sorry, next time I’ll narrate my entire shaving process from start to finish.”

Tyler chokes on a laugh. “Why didn’t you lock the door?”

“Obviously, I thought I did!” I’m half-laughing too, partly from nerves and partly at the situation itself. Forgetting to lock the door is perfectly on brand for me.

Bracing one hand on the door frame, he hangs his head. A low curse leaves his lips as he scrubs his jaw with his palm, looking down at the floor. “Sorry, Tink. My goalie coach called in sick today, and I came home early to pack before we leave. I’m not used to having anyone in my space, and I wasn’t paying attention. Let’s implement a knocking rule, okay?”

“Deal.”

He shuts the door behind him as he leaves, and once he’s gone, I slip out of the tub to lock it for certain this time. Not because I think he’ll come back, but for my own peace of mind.

Heaving a sigh, I sink back into the room temperature water and grab my razor again. My heart is still skittering, body buzzing. I try to console myself with the fact that he’s already seen my boobs, but when you factor in my bare, sweaty face and messy, off-center bun, it’s not a flattering scenario. Him seeing me naked on my own terms is an entirely different story.

I guess it could’ve been worse. If it had been a few minutes later, Tyler would have walked in on me awkwardly contorted while shaving my bikini line. It would be impossible to come back from him seeing that.

Maybe I should switch to waxing.

“Dallas just texted and said, ‘Remember to use your profile so it doesn’t fuck up my Netflix recommendations.’” Siobhan glances down at her screen, letting out a tiny snort.

“I’m guessing this is a pattern?” I tear open a packet of sweet-and-sour sauce and drizzle it over my second egg roll of the evening. Bless whoever invented stretchy pants, ‘cause I’m about to get my money’s worth out of this elastic waistband.

“It’s been known to happen from time to time.” She holds her camera up to the screen, taking a picture of Heartless Engagement queued up ready to play. “Dare to dream, Dal. It’s chick flick central up in here and it’s all under your account.”

The guys left a few hours ago for their first road trip of the year. Now I’m curled up on the living room couch with Bailey and Siobhan. It’s only seven o’clock and we’re already in our pajamas, stuffing ourselves with Chinese takeout while we debate which movie to watch first.

I can’t remember the last time I stayed in on a weekend. It’s kind of nice. Even though it might not be how I usually spend my Friday nights, I’m having fun, and contrary to what I expected, I don’t even have the slightest hint of FOMO. Much as I love Abby, I desperately needed a break from her and the party scene.

A second later, her phone vibrates in her hand, and she cackles. “He said, ‘I’m going to spank you when I’m back.’”

“Sounds like an incentive to keep misbehaving.”

“Right?” Siobhan sets aside her phone and grabs her chicken chow mein off the coffee table. She tucks her legs beneath her, gesturing with her chopsticks. “If anything, I need to step up my game. It’ll keep things interesting for when he gets home.”

Despite my generally cynical view of college dating, I have to admit their relationship is cute. They’re reportedly nine months in and still seem to have fun together. My brother and Bailey seem pretty perfectly matched, too.

Too bad those are both unicorn relationships. The exception, not the norm.

“Speaking of that, you should’ve seen the text Chase sent—” Bailey catches herself and buries her face in her palms, her voice muffled. “Oh my god, that’s your brother. I’m sorry. I’d rather die than hear about Derek in that context. Forget I said anything, please.” The tips of her ears turn red, burning so bright they nearly match her crimson Falcons hoodie.

Siobhan pats her back soothingly. “Aww, it’s okay. Chase has corrupted you a little, that’s all.”

Or corrupted her a lot, by the sounds of it. Even with my bedroom on the main floor, noises travel—and I’ve heard some things I wish I hadn’t over the past couple of days. But good on Bailey for getting hers because from what I know, her ex was a total piece of shit.

“All good,” I tell her, reaching for my sesame shrimp. “I’ll pretend he’s not my brother any time you mention it. It’ll be the first rule of Sleepover Club.”

Bailey reluctantly drops her hands, but she still looks mortified. “Thanks, Sera.” She slides off the couch and stands, avoiding eye contact. “I need to pee. Be right back.”

Siobhan and I watch her leave, exchanging an amused look. Bailey’s slip of the tongue bothered her a thousand times more than it did me. Brother factor aside, I’m not one to judge what consenting adults do in their spare time. I mean, I did have sex with a stranger in a nightclub bathroom.

To my left, a new message pops up on my phone.

Considering I’ve gone out with her nearly every night this week, calling me a “buzzkill” over a single evening is hardly accurate. I’ve been to some of the local bars so much the staff are already starting to learn my name. Irritated, I lock the screen and toss my cell aside without replying.

“Tell me, is it weird living with Tyler?” Siobhan asks, nudging me with her elbow.

“Weird?” The word comes out as a squeak, several octaves too high. I certainly sound weird. Drawing in a breath, I try to normalize my voice. “No, why would it be?”

She laughs, tucking a lock of glossy raven hair behind her ear. “I stayed here briefly after there was a fire at my old place, and I don’t think he spoke more than a handful of sentences to me the entire time I was here.”

“Ty isn’t rude,” Bailey interjects, sinking onto the sofa next to me. “He’s just quiet. Don’t scare Sera.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Tyler’s a bit of a dark horse, that’s all. Hard to get to know.”

“He’s been nice so far.” I cram an entire shrimp in my mouth at once so I have an excuse to stop talking.

“I’m sure the fact that you’re gorgeous helps.” Her mouth tugs, her blue-green eyes glinting. “You know, I bet you two would look cute together…”

I saw us in the mirror on Halloween and can confirm we look great together, especially with him between my legs.

For a brief, insane moment, I wish I could tell them the truth about what happened with Tyler. But I know I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to ask either of them to keep that a secret.

Bailey playfully pokes Siobhan in the ribs. “Shiv! Stop, you’re such an enabler.” Fighting a smile, she leans forward and takes the last eggroll from the carton.

“He’s hot,” I admit. “But even if you remove the roommate part of the equation, I think Chase’s head would explode if anything happened between me and one of his friends.”

Still chewing her bite of eggroll, Bailey presses her lips into a line and nods emphatically, verifying what I already know. My brother would go nuclear.

“Probably, hey?” Siobhan muses. “As an only child, I didn’t even think about the whole brother factor. Plus, Chase is overprotective of people he cares about. Like both of you.”

I’m all too aware, which is why I deliberately shield him from certain details about my life. Even with good intentions, his execution is misguided at times. None of the guys in our high school dared to come within ten feet of me, and I ended up losing my virginity to Rob. Not saying that was Chase’s fault, but his attempt to protect me was a little futile.

“Tyler isn’t exactly relationship material anyway,” Bailey points out.

Good thing that’s not what I want him for.

Knowing better than to say that out loud, I lean over and snag a throw blanket from a wicker basket next to the couch instead. I’m convinced Siobhan or Bailey must have purchased some of the décor around the house. There are a few feminine touches scattered around, like the vanilla-scented candle above the fireplace and the matching hand towels in the bathrooms.

Siobhan shrugs. “I guess that depends if you buy into the whole Taxi Cab Theory.”

“Taxi Cab Theory?” Bailey echoes, her forehead creasing.

“Taxi-what?” I ask.

“It’s from Sex and The City. I was binging re-runs over winter break. Anyway, according to the theory, men are like taxis: when they’re available, their light goes on. They wake up one day and decide they’re ready to settle down, so they commit to the next suitable partner that comes along. By that logic, someone could have a ‘one that got away’ simply because the timing wasn’t right.” Siobhan pauses, taking a sip of her ice water.

“I don’t buy that, though,” she continues. “I think it’s more about the right person. That’s why you see those guys who date a woman for eight years without proposing. She issues an ultimatum, he refuses to pull the trigger, and they break up. Then the guy turns around and immediately gets engaged to his next girlfriend two months later. Timing has little, if anything, to do with it. When you meet The One, you won’t let them get away for anything.”

A memory tugs at my heart filled with bittersweet nostalgia. I swallow hard as I fidget with the cuff of my pink sweatshirt, fighting the wave of sadness creeping in. There’s no question that my parents were each other’s Ones. Even ten years into marriage, I remember how they slow danced in the kitchen, sneaking kisses while my brother and I rolled our eyes. My father brought flowers every time he got back from being on the road; a dozen roses for her and a single pink one for me. He always looked at her like she was the only woman in the room; in the entire universe, even.

I’m not sure everyone gets to have that kind of love, though. Sometimes I think I’m too much to be someone’s One. Too loud, too disorganized, too extra, too messy.

Bailey winces, twirling a lock of honey-blond hair around her finger. “I don’t know… That seems a little harsh to the first woman in that scenario, don’t you think?”

“Your relationship is walking proof of what I’m saying,” Siobhan counters, scooping up a piece of broccoli from her carton. “Chase’s taxi light wasn’t on when you met.”

“Shiv has a point.” Until recently, I wasn’t convinced my brother even had a taxi light.

“Maybe so, but I think it’s more complicated than that sometimes. Circumstances can count for a lot and they’re not always surmountable. You were a little gun-shy with Dallas at first, remember?”

“Then I came to my senses because I knew I couldn’t lose him. All I’m saying is, the light turns on for the right person.”

As someone who considers her light to be firmly switched off, I wonder if that’s true.

We settle in with the rest of our food and start the first movie, chatting idly during the slow spots. Ironically, it’s a romcom about the hero and heroine finding their way back to one another after a series of missed chances. This sparks a debate between us about whether it’s an example of the Taxi Light Theory or the opposite phenomenon.

I’m on the fence. Partly because I’ve seen several friends accept bargain basement behavior because he “wasn’t ready” or “was focusing on school.” And for what? A dude who sleeps on a bare mattress and uses a ratty old towel for curtains? My father treated my mother like a queen. I’m not about to drop my standards for some guy named Tripp who can’t be bothered to change an empty toilet paper roll.

That’s why I’m inclined to think Siobhan is right; if those guys had been invested enough, they would’ve stepped up their game. But putting all your faith in the concept of The One has its downsides too. What if you find them and you screw it up? Deep down, I think this might scare me more than the possibility of never finding them at all.

Now switched to silent, my phone lights up with another text. I unlock it expecting it to be from Abby again, and my heart skips a beat when I read it.

My breaths turn shallow as I stare at the screen, trying to parse the meaning behind his words. I’m either reading too much into it, or not enough. There is no in between.