“Anyway…” My free hand jostles Brady’s side. “It’s your turn.”
“Four fours.” Brady lays down his cards and looks at Finn, waiting for his challenge.
Finn drinks from his cup and looks to Laine. “Your go.”
And the game goes on. Finn catches me bullshitting twice more.
It irritates Brady. The second time, he lets out a short breath from his nose.
Laine ends up winning, and she makes sure to rub it in Finn’s face.
The second bottle of wine is opened, and Laine teaches us all a new game. It’s a longer one, and by the time Brady wins, we’re all taking turns yawning.
Somewhere there’s a bed calling my name. But... wait. I didn’t see any beds when Finn gave us the tour earlier. Were there rooms he missed?
“Finn, what are the sleeping arrangements tonight?”
Finn looks up from gathering the cards and stacking them. “Sleeping bags. I haven’t ordered beds yet.”
“There’s a bit of a problem with that.”
Finn eyes me. “Too good for a sleeping bag?”
I make a face. “No. I just didn’t happen to bring one with me. And neither did Laine.”
“Fresh out of sleeping bags,” Laine yawns as she speaks.
Brady and Finn’s eyes meet. It’s like they’re talking, and when Brady’s face hardens, it seems more like they’re shouting.
“Well, what are we going to do?” I look from Brady to Finn.
“You can sleep with me,” Finn offers.
Brady laughs, but it’s an empty, unhappy sound. “I’m sure she can.”
“Should I offer for her to sleep with you?” Finn raises his hands, as if he’s giving something to Brady. “Serve her up to you on a silver platter? It’ll match that spoon you were born with.”
“There’s that chip we’re all so used to seeing on your shoulder. For a moment I thought eight years time had done away with it, but I guess not.”
“Guys,” I warn, but my voice doesn’t break through the frustration bursting from both of them.
Finn scoffs. “Says the guy who never had to work for anything in his life. You think Lennon should be yours becauseeverythinghas always been yours. You think—”
“Fuck you, Finn. You don’t know what I think.”
“Why don’t you tell us? Why don’t you drop that perfect boy persona for two seconds and tell us how you really feel about things? Tell Lennon how it makes you feel to watch her with me. I’ve already told her, because I’m not busy managing my image. I don’t care if she’s mad at me. I’m not afraid she’ll choose you if I make her mad.”
Brady finally looks my way. His eyes are untamed, angry, and frightened. “This is fucking stupid,” he mutters. In three long strides he’s out the door, slamming it shut behind him.
I hurry to the door, and behind me, Finn says, “It’s raining out there. Just let him be.”
But I can’t. I can’t stand knowing I’m the reason for their fight. This is getting to be too much. Either way, I’m going to lose.
Ignoring Finn, I hurry from the house. It’s dark outside. The rain pelts my face.
“Brady!” I yell his name and walk further from the protection of the house. “Brady!”
“Go inside, Lennon.”
