“Uh, yeah, I’m Jessie.”
“Thought you’d have an Australian accent.”
“Nah, guess not. I was almost sixteen when I moved there. I’d have had to consciously try to pick one up.”
Ihateit when people move to new countries and immediately start trying to pick up the accent. It’s a pet peeve of mine, to be honest. Shows lack of character and serious pick-me tendencies.
Chase and Gould spill out of the truck and into the house. Chase barely looks up from his phone as he walks and Gould is carrying an armful of crap; sweaters, books and a couple of Tupperware containers.
“My mom said she’d skin me if I didn’t get all this back to you,” he says, dumping everything into Luke’s arms.
“Did you bring my charger?” asks Luke.
“Shit. Sorry! I knew I was forgetting something. Next time.”
“You’ve said that the last three times we’ve been here,” says Chase, punctuating the statement with a quick glance up from his phone.
“Don’t sweat it. It’s no biggie.”
Luke sets down all the crap Gould brought for him on the entry table and walks us through to the kitchen. He starts flinging soft drinks and snacks out of the fridge and onto the kitchen island. We all stand around and tuck in before he’s managed to open the chips or the dips and transfer them into bowls.
Conversation flows, albeit intermittently. I feel uncomfortable as hell. It’s clear they’ve known each other forever and me being here is upsetting the status quo. They keep having to explain things to me, not that I’m interested, but they seem to feel that they should. To my surprise, my suspicions about the way Gould and Chase treat Luke prove unfounded.
It’s not often I’m wrong. It’s a peculiar feeling.
Can’t say I care for it.
Far from simply tolerating him or making him the place their jokes go to land, they dote on him. They laugh riotously at everything he says. Whether what he says is funny or not doesn’t seem to matter in the slightest. Gould is the main offender. He looks at Luke a lot, even when Luke isn’t talking. When he does it, one side of his mouth creeps up. For some inexplicable reason it incites a shaking hot irritation in me. A tight ball forms in my chest. I hate meeting new people and I can tell I’m about to become so fucking awkward it’s going to affect everyone else here negatively.
I pull the fridge door open. “Anyone want a beer?”
Luke’s eyebrows shoot up, but he quickly catches himself and allows them to settle back into their usual position.
“Hell yeah!” says Gould with a lot more enthusiasm than the question warrants.
“Driving.” Chase shakes his head.
I crack open two beers and get started on pouring one down my throat as fast as I can.
“How’s Izzy?” Luke asks. “I haven’t seen her for a while.”
Chase answers, “Your guess is as good as mine. She’s been scarce since she started working.”
“I guess she’s busy. I’ll call her tomorrow and try to arrange a time for us to hang out,” says Luke.
“Personally, I think she has a thing for one of the chefs atJoe’s. Some douche named Phillipe. She mentioned him twice last time I saw her. I mean, who gives a shit that the guy can cook? It’s not like it’s hard. Chop, chop, throw it in a pan, and you’re done, right?”
In my humble opinion, cooking is slightly more involved than that. I deliberate for a second but decide it might be more fun in the long run to leave Chase uneducated on the matter.
Gould has moved so he’s standing beside Luke. He drapes an arm loosely around his shoulder, taking a long swig of his beer as he does it. Luke is almost my height and Gould is a lot shorter than him, making the embrace look uncomfortable. After he’s swallowed, he holds the beer out to Luke. Luke gives a small shake of his head. Instead of picking up the cue, Gould offers again, this time he holds the bottle an inch or less from Luke’s mouth. Luke twists his face away but doesn’t move out of Gould’s grip.
“Leave him alone,” I say without meaning to.
Gould looks up, taken aback by the coldness of my tone. He eyes me beadily and then cracks into a well-practiced smile. It’s the kind of smile that looks friendly but isn’t. “Protective of your brother, huh? That’s sweet.”
“He’snotmy brother.”
Fortunately, the visit doesn’t drag on for too long as Chase has to pick his mom up from work. Still, by the time they leave, I’ve had two beers in quick succession. Rachel and my dad notice the bottles on the counter the second they walk in. Rachel’s mouth forms a small, tight circle. My dad’s eyes dart to her, looking for guidance. She fixes him with an adoring gaze that says something along the lines ofI trust you to handle this situation, Honey.
