Chapter Seven
–Fletcher–
Haley’s sitting on my couch, her back perfectly straight, her face calm and relaxed—not like someone covered in dirt who called me an asshole fifteen minutes ago. Jamie’s sprawled out beside her, piling the last of my smoked turkey breast into his mouth. Cole is pretending to watch the baseball game, but really, he’s sneaking glances at Haley’s legs.
When she sat on the driveway with my dogs, her short dress drifted up high enough for me to see a flash of pink panties. And I hadn’t looked away. So yeah, maybe I am an asshole.
“Cole?” Haley says.
My pen slips from my hand. She really is going to talk to him.
Cole spins the recliner so he’s facing us, his cheeks already bright red. I refrain from rolling my eyes, but Jamie doesn’t. He even shakes his head. And I honestly have no idea what Jamie is even doing here. Is he Haley’s bodyguard? Are they dating? It doesn’t seem like they are.
“While we’re both here,” Haley says to Cole, “can I ask you a few questions for the Otter blog? I’m doing a guest post in July.”
“Me?” Cole’s voice cracks.
Haley keeps her head ducked, writing something in her notebook, and then she looks up again, plastering on a smile. “Yep, you. We have almost no interviews with underclassmen.”
When Cole doesn’t initiate further conversation, Haley continues as if he had. “What position do you play, again?”
Jamie and I are both watching this exchange the way you’d stare at a car accident—horrified yet curious.
“Uh…forward,” Cole manages to say with his eyes down, picking at the skin around his thumbnail.
Haley, on the other hand, is looking right at him. “Eye contact, Cole. It’s essential in an interview.” She smiles broader when he actually looks at her. “Think about when you’re in the NHL and SportsCenter wants to talk to you…this is all training for that.”
Jamie stifles a laugh.
“So…a forward does what, exactly?” The way Haley locks eyes with him, I’m right there, mesmerized. She’s got some weird power of persuasion. “Can you give a game scenario or recap a play from state, maybe?”
Cole drops his head again, exhaling. State is a huge sore spot for him. In the final game, he plowed into Tanley and knocked him unconscious, forcing him out of the game. Which forced us to put in a cold goalie, not nearly as good as Tanley, and then we lost.
“Or sections,” Haley adds, probably realizing her mistake. “Eye contact, Cole.”
And to my surprise, my little cousin dives into an in-depth explanation of the third period of the game that took us to state. I tune him out and turn to Jamie. “So…who’s your partner for the Constitution project?”
“Don’t know yet.” He snatches up a banana and then tosses his feet on the coffee table. “Markson said me and Haley weren’t allowed to work together, so she’s hooking me up with someone.”
“Markson’s hooking you up with a partner?”
Jamie points at the blonde beside him. “No, Stevenson is playing matchmaker. She’s working on a few leads. She got you, so I know she’ll come through for me. You know this shit, right? Aren’t you doing college stuff already?”
Haley glances at us when Jamie says that. I clear my throat. “Um yeah…I’ve been taking some gen eds.”
“Really?” Haley asks. “Since when?”
“Freshman year,” Cole answers for me and then recoils when I glare at him.
“I haven’t even looked over the assignment yet. Have you guys?” I lay the handout in front of me and pretend to read it.
“I have,” Haley announces; she’s proud of this fact. “I really love option number five. I have a bunch of ideas. I was thinking we could dress like Thomas Jefferson and his wife—I’m pretty good with a sewing machine—and then we can stage a conversation about signing the Constitution, and since we’re supposed to use theatrics to put our own twist on it, Thomas can offer the pen to his wife. He’ll let her sign instead of him, and that will be symbolic of women’s voting rights to come in the future.”
I stare at her in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”
Haley’s neck flushes. She yanks out the messy bun on top of her head and lets her hair fall down to cover it. Her gaze falls back to the worksheet, her thumbnail in her mouth. “Yeah, that’s probably stupid. I have some other ideas—”
“I think it sounds cool,” Cole says, even though I look over at him like he’s nuts. Nuts for Haley is more accurate.
Jamie tosses a few grapes into his mouth. “Hey, can you sew me a costume, too?”
Haley tucks her hair behind her ears and shakes her head. Her pen is tapping against the coffee table. “No, it’s stupid. What were you thinking we should do, Fletch?”
If my dad or Grandpa Scott were in the room right now, they would both smack me on the head for “making a woman feel unheard,” as Dad has told me so many times never to do. And my parents may not be together, but my dad still has it going on with the ladies. And he’s pushing fifty.
“It’s not that I don’t like your idea,” I say, putting on my best face. “But I’m not really into live-action performance.”
A laugh bursts out from Cole, but he quickly turns it into a cough. I swear that kid is going down if he doesn’t cut that shit out.
Some of the life and energy returns to Haley’s face, and I’m surprised by how relieved that makes me feel. She sits up straight again. “That’s okay, I get it. Let’s do something else.” She hands the sheet to Cole. “What do you think?”
“Well…I’m not like…you know, in the class,” Cole stutters.
Haley sends her direct eye contact his way again. “I asked you a question, Cole. Answer it. Or politely decline. I’m aware that you’re not in the class.”
If those words weren’t dripping with patience and sweetness, with Haley’s pretty birdlike voice, they’d be mean as hell. Maybe that’s a tip for future me. I can say whatever I want to her, I just need to use the right tone.
“Okay, right.” Cole nods and takes his time reading the paper.
Jamie tosses an apple at me to get my attention. I catch it before it smashes against my glasses. When I look up, he mouths: this is fucked up.
I snort back a laugh and then internally freak out because I just shared a joke with Jamie Isaacs. I’m not ever in the general vicinity of Jamie’s jokes. Before I get all twisted up about this, I make small talk with him—another first. “So, have you gotten any info about Minnesota State? When do they start workouts?”
Jamie sighs. “Last week. But I gotta pass this damn class or lose my spot. But me and Leo are keeping in shape.”
“Really?” I take a bite of the apple. “What kind of workouts are you doing?”
“We scored some ice time,” he says, “and we’re doing cardio every night, weights at the gym…that kind of shit.”
“I’m doing weights in the morning. Trying to catch up with Red.”
Jamie laughs and then quickly smooths out his expression. “No offense, dude. But Red’s a monster. Besides, he’s predictable. The guy can’t turn worth shit. All you gotta do is check him while he’s turnin’—” Jamie stops abruptly and stares at me. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
I shrug and try my best poker face. But inside I’m dying for Monday-morning practice so I can test this theory.
“Don’t fucking downplay it,” Jamie accuses. “You want a better spot next season, you sure as hell need to be able to say it.” He drops his feet to the floor and leans forward. “Is that what you want?”
I debate shrugging again. I like my quiet existence where my goals are locked inside my head and not there for anyone to see. But for some reason, I tell him. “Yeah, I guess that’s what I want.”
“You guess?” His eyebrows rise, then he leans back against the couch again. “If you decide you’re sure, then come to the rink Sunday night. Around nine. Me and Leo have the place to ourselves.”
Wait, is he gonna let me train with them? I start to ask, but Jamie cuts me off, nodding toward Cole and shaking his head. Okay, so this is a secret. I can handle that.
“…Cheerleading is going great, Cole. Thanks for asking,” I hear Haley say. “We’re working with a really great choreographer for our new competition routine.”
An hour later, we’ve decided on a PowerPoint presentation but haven’t really gotten anywhere toward completing the assignment, but it’s nearly time for me to head to work and Haley has plans. I leave Cole in the living room and walk both of them out. Jamie, who’s not as fond of the dogs, gets right into Haley’s Honda Civic, but she stops to pet all three.
Feeling like we left things unfinished earlier, I bite the bullet and apologize. “I’m sorry for tricking you into coming here.”
Haley stands up and faces me, her dress covered in dusty dirt. She’s braided her hair into a long, intricate braid over the last hour—the girl does not stop moving—and she grips the end of the braid, twisting it around her finger. “I just thought you wanted to work with me. I guess that was my fault for making an assumption. I mean, why would you?”
“Especially after the Cheerios,” I joke.
Haley gives a half smile at that, but her eyes show defeat. I scrub a hand over my face and do something I know I’ll regret. “Look, let’s start over. Tomorrow, you and me. Making the most awesome Constitution project ever, okay?”
Her whole face lights. “Together? Fifty-fifty?”
“Fifty-fifty,” I confirm. Please don’t let this suck.
Haley throws her arms around my neck, and I’m so shocked I don’t move to remove them. In fact, I return the hug, wrapping an arm around her tiny waist. The urge to pull her against me, grind our hips together, and swing her around hits hard and fast. I’m startled by this new development and release her, stepping back before anything else happens.
Haley blushes, realizing my reaction. “Sorry. I’m a hugging person.” She nods toward her car. “Jamie, too. So watch out. He’ll crush you before you can ask him to let go.”
I shove my glasses back to the bridge of my nose. “I’ll be sure to keep my distance. From Jamie,” I add. And you.
Jesus. What the hell?
Haley turns quickly and opens the car door. “See you tomorrow, Fletch. I’ll come about the same time?”
“Yeah, sure.”
When I walk back into the living room, Cole has the recliner lying all the way back, and he’s staring up at the ceiling, his hands behind his head.
“I think that went well,” he says, a big grin on his face.
My stomach twists. I should just tell him that Haley’s not interested. But I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen Cole this happy, and I can’t bring myself to tell him. Besides, he thinks his chat with Haley—which was like a bizarre academic lesson in basic conversation—went well. He might not even believe me. Then I’d be the bad guy who told him he doesn’t stand a chance. Truth is, give it a couple of years and Cole might stand a chance with someone like Haley. Hell, that’s what happened with Tanley and Claire O’Connor. But right now, Haley and Cole are in very different places.
The other reason that I don’t want to tell Cole what Haley said: I can’t get her out of my head—the feel of my arms around her…she’s the perfect size for me. I could lift her with a couple of fingers.
So yeah, I need to get my head somewhere else ASAP. Lucky for me, the girls from work have been texting me all morning to come in early. I kick Cole’s foot. “I gotta get ready for work. Are you hanging out, or do you want a ride home? Braden’s bartending tonight, so he won’t be around.”
Cole pops the recliner upright. “Think I can go with you guys?”
I look him up and down and then laugh. “Uh-uh. You aren’t ready.”
“I am. I totally am,” he says so earnestly, like I might actually say yes.
“Where’s your fake ID?” I lift an eyebrow, waiting.
He deflates. “You’ve been going for two years, and you just turned eighteen…”
“As an employee,” I remind him. “Ricky’s had very strict rules in place for me.”
This is sort of true. I wasn’t allowed to take customers back in the private rooms. And they were all warned to keep their hands out of my pants, but that only made women—and sometimes men—more determined and creative. Thank God for bouncers.
Cole doesn’t press me further about joining me at work, and we spend an hour playing Xbox together before I drop him off and head out on the two-lane highway that leads to Longmeadow. I’d planned to get to work early with the intent of putting in some extra rehearsal time, but the second I walk through the door, Rosie and Henrietta clobber me with “birthday kisses,” and before long, we’re knocking back way too many shots of tequila and rum.