“Must be someone from school.” Tenley furrows her brow and taps her chin with her index finger as she thinks. Her big green eyes light up and land on me. “Oh! Is it that cute guy I saw when I dropped you off at the junior high?”
“Carlos? No. I mean yeah he is cute and nice, but no.” I shake my head adamantly because I know my family—they need things loud and clear. “We work together. This internship is super imperative to my program and I need to be hyper-focused. So does he.”
Harlow sags in disappointment. “Ugh, I was hoping someone was getting some butterflies in their ovaries.”
“I thought I had butterflies last week,” Shelby tells us and sighs. “It was bad Chinese food.”
I laugh. “Can we watch the movie now?”
“Fine, but something is up with you.” Tenley points at me sternly, and she is so channeling my mom right now.
Tenley acts so much like my mom and not hers. Genetics are weird that way. I'm still trying to figure out where my shy, timid, reclusive gene came from. Although my mom once told me my auntie Rose was 'so much like me' when she was a kid. Genetics were pretty straightforward when it comes to physicality. I am a mirror image of my mom, dark hair, eyes like melted milk chocolate, skin like porcelain with a dusting of freckles across my nose if you look hard enough. But I have a dimple in my chin which is all Garrison, but I'm the shortest Garrison girl, even my baby sister Mayhem towers over me. The lack of height is all Caplan, my mom's side. I think of Crew and how I can see both his parents in him. How he and Nash, who are fraternal twins, share so many similarities from eye color to hair color but are nowhere near identical. Crew is bulkier and slightly less fair in coloring and Nash has sharper features. I may have spent a couple of hours googling pictures of Crew… because I was bored. No other reason.
“Should we have invited Mallory?” Shelby asks a minute later.
“I did, but I knew she would say no.” Tenley pauses to toss some popcorn into the air and effortlessly catches it in her mouth. “Mom and Dad went back to the Bay for a few weeks and their regular nanny quit last week so she’s got her hands full with Dylan and going back to school.”
“She could have brought Dyllie Bear,” Harlow replies. “I love that little cuddle muffin.”
“He’s a lot right now. He has Tate’s energy and really needs that backyard they have to burn it off. He’s been here before but he almost hurled himself off our balcony,” Tenley explained.
“Have they hired a new nanny yet?” Tenley turns to me and shakes her head. “Because I’d be interested.”
“Really? How? Why?” Harlow looks confused. “You’re still taking classes and you have the internship and you don’t exactly need the spending money.”
She’s right about all of that. I’m overloaded as it is, but I also can’t seem to shut off my brain. When I do have spare time all I think about is that guy tackling me or… that night with Crew. One is a bad memory I don’t want to think about and the other is a good one I don’t want to think about too much because then I’ll develop a crush on a guy I can’t be involved with. Not for real. And if I crush too hard I will use that number he left on my night table. And what good will that do me? Crew doesn’t know how we’re connected and I want to keep it that way.
I shrug. "I think it will look good on a resume, especially because I want to get a job at one of those fancy performing arts schools when I'm done."
That part is true too. It will look good on my resume if I can be a private nanny for a professional athlete. Harlow stretches. “I know Tater Tot would love having you watch Dylan. Make sure he pays you fairly. No family discount.”
“He always pays well,” I assure her because I watched Dylan a lot this summer and Tate compensated me even when I told him I didn’t want money. One time my sister Mae stayed home with me too while I watched Dylan and Tate paid us both, even though she wasn’t technically watching him.
“I just texted Mal and told her you want to watch him.” Tenley holds up her phone before dropping it on the pillow next to her. “I’m sure she’ll reach out. Do yourself a favor and walk him down by the beach. There are a ton of hot men who mack all over you when you have a baby and no wedding ring.”
"Like men even bother to look for a ring." Shelby rolls her eyes. She is the most jaded of all of us when it comes to love, which I've never understood. She hasn't had any really horrible break-ups that I know of. In fact, Harlow had her relationship implode hours before her wedding and she's less jaded than Shelby.
“Well I’m demanding you come to the game tomorrow night,” Harlow announces and I immediately shake my head. She pretends she doesn’t notice. “You and I have both sworn off hockey players so we can keep each other company while they ogle asses and stuff.”
“Hockey players are fine if you only fuck them once,” Tenley tells us. “Anyway, Harlow is right. You have to come. I hardly ever see you and I live with you.”
I think of Crew. Skating hard across the ice. Brow furrowed with exertion, legs pumping. Then I think of him naked, sweaty, hips pumping.
“Are you… blushing?” Tenley sounds horrified.
I stand up and walk to the window. “No. I’m hot. It’s Los Angeles in September. It’s the devil’s armpit.”
I punch the AC unit up a couple degrees. Now they’re all looking at me like I’m a complete weirdo. So I say the one thing that will distract them. “Fine. I’ll go to the game.”
* * *
This isn’t a big deal, I tell myself as we filter in through the turnstile, flashing our passes, on lanyards around our necks, at the security guard. “Do we really have to go down there?”
“Yeah,” replies Tenley. “I said we would meet Mallory down there. Plus candy bar.”
I swear to God Tenley’s entire diet is candy. She loves sweet stuff. Always has. Her parents have a framed photo of her at their house taken the first time she tried ice cream. Her eyes are wide, and her toothless smile takes up her entire chubby face, which is covered in chocolate. It's honestly the cutest thing I've ever seen. I wasn't a pudgy adorable baby like Tenley. I was skinny and weird-looking if you ask me.
“Oh shit. There’s Nash,” Tenley grumbles and her step falters as we make our way past another security guard at the bottom of the stairs that lead to the corridor that winds around to the VIP lounge.
