“Says the girl who—” I start.
“Hey man,” Garrett cuts me off, stepping up alongside Cheyenne and wrapping his arm around her waist. “How are you?”
I’d be better if you didn’t interrupt me.
“Great,” I say, clearing my throat and meeting his gaze head-on. I have a solid couple of inches on him, but even still,we’re close enough to eye level that his cold blues bore into mine. He’s never liked me ... Or maybe I’ve just never liked him.
It’s hard to tell, really.
“Did Chey tell you about my promotion at iTech?” Garrett says to me, like I actually care what he does with his life. “I’m hoping this might be the year that we take it to the next level.” He squeezes Cheyenne’s waist, and she beams under the attention.
“You never know,” she squeaks, peering up at her boyfriend like the guy hasn’t been saying the same line for the past two years—and nothing’s happened. I frown at the way Chey acts around him. Meek and small. It’s the opposite of the girl that I’ve grown up around. She’s usually just as fiery as my sister, only her fire comes with a goofiness that is unmatched by anyone...
Well, except for me.
“Got any special plans for Thanksgiving?” I direct my attention back to Chey.
Immediately, her facial expression shifts to a challenge. “If Ididhave plans, I definitely wouldn’t be sharing them with you...” She gives me a sly look. “But I’m fully prepared to up my game this year. You might’ve gotten me last year with that fake spider, but I’mnottaking another loss.”
“I’ll make you eat those words.” I reach out and bop her on the nose, ignoring the annoyed glare coming from her boyfriend. Cheyenne and I have been pranking each other onThanksgiving for over a decade—loooongbefore Garrett ever entered the picture.
He can get over it.
“You two are strange,” Garrett huffs, still not relinquishing his grip on Cheyenne. “I don’t understand why you partake in this nonsense.” He focuses on his girlfriend. “Baby, you’re too smart for these childish antics.”
Baby.The endearment reverberates in my head like he just cursed. Ihatesweet talk between couples. It’s annoying. Or maybe it’s just Garrett. Something about a man that plays tennis and drives a Prius calling a woman like Cheybabyjust seems all wrong.
But hey, I can’t judge who loves who, and Garrett and Cheyenne have beenmostlytogether for about four years now.
“I hope y’all enjoy the party,” I say, when I realize Garrett isn’t going to disappear. I step to the side and gesture for the three of them to come further into my house. The quiet thump of the bass hits my chest as my eyes follow Cheyenne, and I hear laughter coming from the main living room.
“I really don’t like him,” I say in a low voice as my sister stops beside me, also watching the two of them enter the living room. “He gives me the creeps.”
Genna laughs, shaking her head. “He’s not a creep, Dylan. Just a jerk. And maybe a little weird. Cheyenne says he’s still doing that bleaching thing withhis—”
“I don’t want to know,” I cut her off with a shudder. “This is the last team party before Thanksgiving, and I’d prefer to spend it chilling with everyone, not picturing images of Cheyenne’s boyfriend in my head that might scar me for life.”
“Same.” She sighs. “But alas, I’m stuck with the information I was given.” Genna runs her fingers through her dark waves. “You know, I really thought when they broke up over Halloween, it was finally over for good.”
“I don’t think we’d ever getthatlucky,” I snort. “I just hope he breaks something so I can sue him for damages.”
Genna doesn’t laugh at my joke. Instead, her expression grows serious. “The only thing that man is capable of breaking is Cheyenne’s heart—and I don’t know why she lets him do it over and over again.”
“She’s stubborn like that,” I say, ignoring the protective jab in my chest. Chey’s been a part of my family for so long, I feel the same surge to take care of her as I do Genna, even if we don’t see each other all that much anymore.
“Is that cute rookie here?” Genna’s question breaks through my thoughts. “You know, the one with the ocean eyes?” I hear the way she draws out the words. She’s in awe of Paul Billards.
Gross.
But I can’t lie to her.
“He’s here,” I say begrudgingly. “But don’t forget what I told you. He doesn’t wear shoes in the locker room shower.”
“Oh, stop it.” She swats my chest and then saunters away, doing a hair toss as she goes.
I roll my eyes at my sister and then breathe out a sigh. I’m pretty sure all the guests have arrived, including the ones that weren’t invited.
Freaking Garrett.
