Where the hell is Kellan? Yesterday he dropped off his uniform, but when I opened the bag I only found his jersey and shorts, no socks or shin guards or cleats. After a mildly panicked text, he assured me he’d drop them off at the field before practice.
Practice started five minutes ago, and he’s still not here.
“Why are you even doing him this favor?” Sebastian demands. “Is he holding something over you?”
“No.” The ability for Kellan to hold something over me is laughable. There’s nothing remotely illicit or illegal about my life. “He’s going to let me drive his Lamborghini.”
Sebastian’s mouth drops open. “You’re lying.”
“Nope.” I laugh. “When they’re desperate enough, people will give you anything.”
“That fucker.”
“Did I hear someone call my name?”
Sebastian and I turn to see Kellan standing in the doorway to the locker room, holding a pair of cleats and long socks. Relief moves through me. I was afraid he wouldn’t show. Then I wonder if I should even feel relief, judging by the fury rising in Sebastian’s eyes. Most likely, the best choice is to leave, but if they come to blows, I’d like to witness them pummeling one another. It’s my own form of brotherly love. Free entertainment between two assholes.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Kellan? Why Noah shows up to practice in your jersey and you’re nowhere to be seen?”
“Of course,” he says happily, just to irritate Sebastian further. “The short version is that Noah has agreed to switch places with me for a few weeks.”
Sebastian swipes a hand through the air. He looks downright feral. “No,” he growls. “Fuck no. You think I’m going to let you screw up my chances with the pros because of one of your shit plans? If you go through with this, I’m telling Coach.”
The carefree smile melts off Kellan’s face. He looks eerily similar to me—more so than usual, I mean. Kellan is always smiling. I’m always... not.
“Okay, chill out, Seb. Let’s talk about this.”
“Start talking then.”
Kellan takes a step back, his hands lifted. This should be fun.
Crossing my arms and leaning back against the lockers, I watch the conversation play out between them. I’ve seen Sebastian and Kellan go head to head before. Seb has a temper, but it rarely shows unless he’s truly pissed about something. Kellan lets most things roll off his back. With his general care-free attitude, I sometimes wonder if he cares about anything, ever. Aside from soccer, that is.
Kellan sends me a helpless look. If we had a closer relationship, that would be my cue to step in, placate the roiling explosion that builds. Unfortunately for him, we don’t have the loving, supportive relationship that other siblings have. So I do what any brother would do and flip him the bird.
His lip curls. He turns back to Sebastian, saying, “I need to go away for a few weeks. It’s important. I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t. And no,” he says as Sebastian opens his mouth, “I can’t tell you the reason why I’m leaving. Noah already asked me.”
A vein throbs in Seb’s temple. The two stare one another down. I wonder who’s going to throw the first punch. Sebastian, probably. Though Kellan might do it just to have the element of surprise on his side.
“If you screw up my US contract—” Seb begins.
“It’ll be fine,” he says, waving a hand. I’m not convinced though, and I don’t think he is either.
The locker door abruptly bangs opens, and I duck behind the nearest set of lockers. “What the hell is going on here?” someone shouts.
“Oh. Hey, Max.” Kellan’s voice is strained. I’m sorely tempted to peek around the wall and watch him sweat, but I don’t want to blow our cover before the masquerade has even begun.
“Practice has started and you two are fucking around and being weird. Coach sent me to tell you both to get your asses onto the field or you’re running laps the entire practice.”
“We’ll be one minute,” Sebastian says. “Promise.”
There’s a pause. I hold my breath. Blood throbs in my ears, almost drowning out the response. The guy named Max says, “Weren’t you wearing your jersey before? Why did you change?”
I close my eyes. Shit. It’s going to be difficult to explain why I’m wearing Kellan’s jersey. Hopefully Kellan thinks quickly on his feet, but I won’t hold my breath. Logic isn’t exactly his strong suit.
“Yeah. About that.” A girlish laugh bubbles out of my brother’s mouth. Right. That’s not suspiciousat all. “I got an emergency call and was going to let you all know I had to leave practice early, but then they called me back so now I can stay. Great, right?”
“Emergency call from who?” That’s Seb’s voice, and it holds an unmistakable smirk. Of course he’s trying to blow Kellan’s cover. Or make him sweat, more like it.
