Lance smiled at him in sympathetic disappointment, but it was just to let the guy down gently. He had no desire whatsoever to stay for tomorrow’s game. Lance had played football all through college, and though he’d led his team to two consecutive championship wins, he’d been more than happy to walk away from that world when he finished college. He hadn’t loved football. Not like his brother did. Football had simply been a means to an end. He’d graduated with hardly any debt, and that was all because of football, but that’s all it had ever meant to him.
His phone buzzed with an incoming message, and he thumbed it open quickly as he pretended to listen to Chad/Jared/Kyle go on and on about their most recent game and why they would have won if the ref hadn’t fucked them over with that last bad call. Lance hummed in pretend shared annoyance as he read his latest Marketplace notification.
Since his ex-girlfriend Julie had moved out, he’d been hellbent on selling all of the remaining furniture at his house that he didn’t need. She’d had a knack for buying odd shit she’d stashed at his place. While his house was definitely too big for just him, he’d rather it be empty than filled with her rejects that he abso-fucking-lutely couldn’t wait to get rid of.
“Lance!” Parker called, distracting him from reading the message about the old desk that had just popped up. He pocketed his phone and turned towards his brother.
“You enjoying our party?” Parker asked with eager hopefulness. Parker—no, sorry, he had a new frat name now—King P—looked like he was at least three Gatorade-vodkas deep, his Yankees hat turned backwards, confining his wild mess of dark curls. He supposed Parker thought it made him look tough,but from his perspective, it made him look like just another dimwitted jock.
“Sure,” he assured him with a wink, and lifted his drink cup in a toast.
He smiled into his cup over how relieved his brother looked.
“Thanks again for the bed,” Parker said. “Maybe now that the honeymooners have a bed and a room of their own, we can all get some shut eye,” he added, nodding towards them. His brother’s friends cackled in agreement, as they all raised their cups in yet another toast.
Lance hadn’t met the happy couple yet, but he’d heard enough that he felt like he knew them. Parker’s—King P’s— roommate had met his girlfriend a couple of months ago, and poor Parker hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since. When Lance had offered to donate a queen-size bed to the couple, Parker had jumped on the deal and made arrangements for them to have their own room. The bed barely fit, with only a few feet of extra space left, but since they were stuck together like two pieces of tape, Lance didn’t think it was an issue.
“My pleasure,” he said. A white lie, certainly, but a very small one.
His brother’s frat house was a two-hour drive from his house in St. Charles, Illinois, which meant he’d sacrificed his entire Saturday to deliver the bed. He hadn’t had anything better to do, but Julie always said he was an old geezer living in a 30-year-old’s body. Some part of him saw the truth in that, since being this far from home wasn’t all that enjoyable, except for visiting with Parker. But he’d made the trip to help his brother, leaving him with a familiar, comforting feeling that made the sacrifice worthwhile.
Parker was six years younger than Lance, and while that age gap could have made their relationship awkward, theirunique circumstances growing up together actually kept them close. Lance had played a more important role in his brother’s life than most older brothers might have done. He’d never missed any of Parker’s ball games. He’d driven him to prom and graduation. He’d sat him down and taught him how to put on a condom. Hell, at his brother’s insistence, he’d explained how to pleasure a girl with his mouth. It had taken more than a few beers for that one, but he’d gotten it done. So, no. They weren’t living in the same house anymore but hanging out with Parker—King P—he’d never get used to that dumbassed frat boy nickname—was time well spent.
By the time he was ready to hit the road, he’d only had a few sips of his drink, but Parker was wasted. Lance wasn’t one to judge. Drinking was as much part of the college experience as all-nighters, unprotected sex, and ramen noodles. He’d done it, too. Besides, a sloshed Parker was a funny, affectionate Parker. Lance hugged him goodbye, jumped into his truck, and hit the road for home.
Nearly two hours later, as he pulled up to his house, his phone buzzed with another text. It was a follow-up notification from Marketplace.
Tanner Casey
Still available?
Lance Kingsley
Sorry. Yes. Are you located in St. Charles?
Tanner Casey
Yes.
Lance Kingsley
For an extra five, I can deliver.
Tanner Casey
Great. I’m home tomorrow. U available?
Lance glanced at the time. It was nearly 3:00 a.m. Why wasn’t this guy asleep? He figured he must have been working the night shift, so he’d probably need the morning to sleep in and recover. Besides, so would Lance. Maybe early to mid-afternoon would be the best time to do the delivery.
Lance Kingsley
Yes. 2pm ok?
Tanner Casey
Yes. 2627 McCray. Cash ok?
Lance Kingsley
