Chapter Three
–Fletcher–
“Just say it,” I snap at Cole. “Just fucking say it.”
Apparently hungover me forgot to inspect my backseat this morning before taking off. It was dark out. I couldn’t see. But Cole can see clearly now. And since I’m his ride home from summer school—at least for today—I get to enjoy his awkward silence all the way out to the country where my grandpa’s farmhouse sits.
Cole chances another lightning-quick glance into the backseat and then turns forward again, his face redder than when he’d laid eyes on Haley a few minutes ago.
“I didn’t say a-anything,” Cole stutters.
I rub a temple with one hand. “But you want to, so go ahead.”
“Did someone…I mean did somebody actually…” He snorts out a laugh, reminding me how much maturing he’ll do over the next couple of years. “Did someone wear those?”
After turning the car out of the parking lot, I look over my shoulder at the backseat, counting quickly. “Probably four someones.”
“Probably?” Cole says, his voice rising an octave. “You don’t remember?”
I shake the fog from my head. I remember bits of last night. Basically, everything before my fourth shot. But I think that was around six o’clock, and it was after midnight when I finally fell into bed. A lot can happen in six hours. A lot of panties can happen. Obviously. Considering my backseat is littered with four different pairs.
I’m hit with a flash of me jumping in the lake buck naked. My guess is that I didn’t swim alone.
“I was drunk,” I tell Cole after remembering that he’s waiting for my answer. “Now, I’m hungover. In case you haven’t noticed.”
He goes silent, and I feel like an asshole for being such a shit example. I glance at him before turning onto the bumpy country road that will take us home. “Hey, just so you know, this is a very bad way to wake up in the morning.”
“You mean hungover?” He relaxes into the seat. “I know that. But usually you don’t do that on a school night.”
This is true. Very true.
“A bunch of people from work took me out for my birthday, and we got carried away. Next time I wake up with several pairs of thongs in my backseat, I’m gonna be damn sure that I remember how they got there, okay?”
He turns red again at the mention of the thongs. “People from work?”
The word work comes out as a squeak. Before he starts getting the wrong idea, I elaborate. “People who are also employed at my place of employment. Friends. Obviously, some female friends.”
“So, you didn’t…”
When he can’t finish the sentence, I do it for him. “Screw four girls in my backseat?” Cole nods, and I shake my head. Then with a smirk, I add, “Not last night, anyway.”
That gets him to laugh and loosen up a bit. But he still works way too hard to keep his eyes forward. “Dude, if you can’t even look at a pair of panties without freaking out, how are you supposed to have a conversation with a girl?”
Cole drops his gaze and picks at my leather seat. I smack his hand to stop him. This car is my most-prized possession. “I have plenty of conversations with girls.”
“Really?” I stare at him. “What girls?”
“Just a few from school.” He shrugs, not even coming close to pulling off this lie. Seconds later, he sighs, giving in. “I only like one girl and she’s…she’s—”
“Haley fucking Stevenson.” I roll my eyes. “With her pen-tapping and you picking at my seats constantly, you two are a perfect match.”
He straightens up, looking a little too hopeful. “Really? You think so?”
“You know what I think? I think you can’t know if you’re a perfect match until you actually talk to her.”
Cole picks at the seat again and then stops himself. “Do you do that? Actually talk to girls? I mean, I know you do other things with them…”
“I talk to Ricky and Angel all the time.” I can’t escape even one shift at work without those two forcing me to verbally express some kind of feeling. “And you heard me on the phone the other day, listening to Rosie’s roommate drama for more than an hour.”
“That’s different,” Cole says, and then he’s silent for such a long time I’m sure that he’s dropped it, but then he adds, “I mean talk and you know…”
“Hook up?” I suggest, already hating where this is going. “Date?”
“Yeah.”
Once. Only once. Two years ago. A girl from work who was much older than I was. I had a massive crush. She didn’t. That’s pretty much how our story played out. “Crushed” is the best word to describe what that did to me. Now I prefer to keep the physical and emotional separate. Much easier this way.
“Yeah, not really my style. The whole relationship thing. Why do it when you can skip over it and go right to the good stuff?” When his face reveals clear disappointment, I add, “That’s just my way. Doesn’t have to be yours. In other words, talk to Haley before this crush gets any bigger inside your head.”
“Why did I have to take Health instead of Civics?” He scrubs his hands over his face. “We could have been in class together.”
Knowing Cole, he still would have turned red at the mere thought of eye contact with Haley. The entire summer. And I know why he didn’t take the class with me. My aunt Lisa—his mom—is so fucking competitive, she’d have ripped him apart every day he came home with any grade lower than mine. Doesn’t matter that he’s almost three years younger. And school is nothing compared to how she is about hockey. If that kid burns out by junior year, it will be completely his mom’s fault.
This is why I didn’t ask him if he wanted to go to his house or mine. The kid needs a break from that shit.
I’m driving uncharacteristically slow down the rocky dirt road. Cole smirks at me when I start to get that pre-nauseated look from all the bumping around. I pull the car into our long driveway and park near the barn. The doors are open, and my older brother Braden’s boots are visible.
All three dogs leave Braden’s side and charge at Cole and me the second we step out of the car. Prancer and Dancer are chocolate labs and Vixen—she’s mine—is a yellow lab. Cole is taller than me by an inch, but he’s light as a feather, and those dogs plow him over every time.
Braden pokes his head out of the barn and laughs at Cole. “Dude, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you don’t stand a chance against varsity defenders.”
While Cole is rolling around on the gravel with the dogs, I head for the backseat, hoping to remove the remaining evidence of last night’s birthday celebration. I’ve got three pairs of panties scrunched in one hand and I’m reaching for the fourth when I notice Braden leaned over my shoulder.
He lets out a low whistle. “Hey, Gramps! Come check this out.”
I elbow my brother in the ribs, but he’s bigger and stronger and gets his arms around me, forcing me to release the panties in my hands. Before I know it, Grandpa Scott, with his gray hair, worn jeans, and muddy boots, is opening the other door to the backseat and looking things over.
“Yep.” He shakes his head, mock shame on his face. “I told your dad, this is what happens when you don’t go to church.”
Of course, my dad chooses right then to bring the tractor up to the barn. He hops off, and Grandpa Scott shouts the same warning about church at him. My dad takes off his hat and sunglasses to get a good look in the car. He gives away a small smirk but says nothing more.
Dad reaches down and grabs Cole’s shirt and pulls him to his feet. “You boys hungry? Let’s go make some lunch.”
“But we still have—” Braden protests, but Dad waves away his concern.
After I’ve tossed the panties and we’re all filing into the big kitchen, I’m as surprised as Braden that they’re gonna stop for lunch. We only get about ninety-six frost-free days each year in northern Minnesota, so it’s pretty rare during one of those days to see Grandpa, Dad, or Braden inside when it’s light out. I’d be out there with them, but Dad and Braden have both made it clear that my job is school.
Well, that and Saturday nights in an old warehouse right outside Longmeadow. A job they love to tease me about, but I don’t mind. I’m doing something I enjoy. Dad is all about enjoying the moment. It’s kind of his thing. And the job pays a shit-ton of money. Especially lately. I’ve really been bringing in the cash over the past six months. That’s how I was able to buy the used SUV.
Lunch in a house with four men means everyone opening cabinets, drawers, and pantries all at once, throwing meat and bread together. Cole isn’t a Scott like me, but he joins in with no apprehension, piling turkey breast onto a piece of bread as fast as I’m slicing it.
“Hey, enough.” I shove his hand away from my blue cutting board. “I’m gonna be here all day slicing meat.”
“Cut me some, will ya?” Braden says.
I groan, the hangover hitting me hard. I need food. And food has always been the most complicated part of my life. Thanks to Grandpa Scott’s system, our kitchen is the easiest place for me to eat. Blue cutting boards are mine. Blue baskets in the fridge and pantry are mine.
And this turkey breast is mine. I roasted it myself all day on Sunday. I’m about to tell Braden to cook his own, but Grandpa Scott has already pulled a ham from the fridge and is slicing it on a white cutting board. Braden snatches four thick pieces of ham.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re all spread out around the dining-room table, our plates piled—mine with at least a pound of meat, three baked potatoes, and one of each fruit in the basket on the counter.
Dad glances at my plate, does a double take, and then lifts an eyebrow. “So you really are going for this bulking-up, starting-defense-position thing?”
I shrug. I don’t want to jinx it.
“It’s summer,” Grandpa says. “Why the hell are you boys skatin’ around on ice in the middle of the goddamn summer?”
“He was up before five this morning,” Braden says. “I thought those practices were optional?”
Cole and I look at each other. We both laugh. “Optional as in everyone knows the starting positions are determined from summer training and scrimmages,” I answer.
“You don’t see the football team out there before August,” Dad says, his mouth full of sandwich. Grandpa, Dad, and Braden all played football. And apparently, a generation or two of Scott men before them. They love to rip on the hockey team, rightfully so. I can’t imagine what it must be like to play a sport other than hockey at Juniper Falls High.
Cole tears the crust from his sandwich. “And you don’t see anyone talking about the football team. Like, ever.”
We all crack up because Cole rarely dishes out the dirt when my elders all gang up on us.
“Guarantee that came straight from your mother’s mouth,” Grandpa says, and Cole’s face flushes.
That does sound like something Aunt Lisa would say.
The subject moves back to teasing me about the panties in my backseat—which always includes mention of the misuse of the skills my late grandmother passed on to me—and eventually we end up on Cole’s infatuation with Haley Stevenson.
“Haley Stevenson,” Braden mutters. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Probably because she’s the current princess of our town and her name is everywhere.” Juniper Falls Princess is described as a political position for a chosen high-school girl to represent the local youth each year, but it’s really just a popularity contest that’s been around for more than a hundred years. I turn to Cole. “Why don’t you just grow a pair and talk to her? If she shoots you down, then you get to move on.” She will definitely shoot him down. But he needs to learn this for himself.
“You’re in class with her.” Braden points his fork at me. “Why don’t you chat Cole up to Haley?”
My eyes widen. This is not something I would ever do. And Braden knows that. I don’t really socialize with people at school. All small towns have their gossip, but Juniper Falls takes getting in other people’s business to the extreme. My family has a history of being the center of town rumors for some very private matters, and though we’ve fallen off the radar for several years now, I’d like to keep it that way. I haven’t heard gossip about my parents in years, my grandmother only through stories Grandpa Scott tells about events before I was even born. My brother’s brushes with the law in the past seem to be old news now. And I’ve managed to go from being the-one-to-harass to the-one-I-can’t-remember, proving that how people perceive me is very much within my control.
“Haley doesn’t want to talk to me.” That’s my best excuse. “Cole’s the star varsity hockey player. He’s got a better shot at conversation with her than I do.”
“You’re the one in class with her. Besides, Cole isn’t even ready to ride the bench when it comes to chatting up girls,” Braden says, then he tosses Cole a sympathetic look. “Sorry, man, but it’s true. I’ve seen you in action. It’s pathetic.”
Cole stabs a piece of meat, poking it several times before forking a bite. “Yeah, I know.”
“And if Fletch can get all those panties in his backseat, obviously he knows his way around the opposite sex.” Dad flashes me a sly grin, like it’s completely his genes that contributed to my apparently wild night last night.
“The panties were a joke,” I point out.
Dad shakes his head. “Scott men are known for having a way with women. It’s one of our best qualities. And really, it’s not rocket science. It all comes down to understanding the differences in male and female pleasure.”
I expect Cole to turn red again, but instead, he’s wide-eyed, looking ready to take notes.
I roll my eyes. “We’re corrupting a fifteen-year-old. Maybe we should go to church.”
“We are not corrupting him,” Grandpa Scott says, even though he made the church joke earlier. “We’re providing him the same education you and your brother both received.”
“That’s right,” Dad agrees. “Just because he’s not a blood relative of mine, Gramps, or your brother’s, doesn’t mean we don’t care about his future.”
I still remember clearly the first time I admitted to fooling around with a girl to Dad, Gramps, and Braden. I was probably close to Cole’s age, maybe a tad older, and the first words out of Dad’s mouth were, “Did she enjoy the experience?”
If I were someone who had friends at school or on the team—good thing I’m not—then this approach to fathering and grandfathering might seem really weird, but I guess I’m used to it. To them. Grandma Scott, before she passed away two years ago, had a big hand in my “education” as well.
After a lot more prodding, I finally agree to say something nice about Cole in front of Haley. I only say yes to get them off my back. Today’s conversing with her already took too much of my patience. But after lunch, when Cole and I are sprawled out on the couches watching a baseball game, I have this strong desire to grab a notebook and create my own “Hump Day To-do List.” I wonder what Haley is doing right now. It isn’t time for tumbling practice yet—that’s scheduled for six o’clock. Maybe she’s whitening her teeth or teaching Kayla Squared some eight-counts.
Maybe I won’t change my seat tomorrow.