When I first saw her here in Grangewood, I expected that she’d want things to pick up where we left off. I expected that she’dnever want to leave my bed until the three months were up and we’d both go back to where we came from.
But if this experience has taught me anything, it’s to never expect and never assume. Women are unpredictable, and Jenna is the God damn queen of the hive.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, we buckle our seatbelts before I turn on the engine and put the car into gear.
“So, where are we going?” He stares at me, and I pause for effect with a smirk, waiting to see if he’ll catch on, but so far, his expression is blank and I have to spell it out.
“Here,” I say, throwing my phone into his lap. “Open the first text chain. Put the address into maps.” He does as instructed, and my phone all but slips out of his hands as though it’s covered in butter, landing between his feet onto the floor of the car.
“No, no, no, no. Don’t fucking do this to me, Cole. I cannot, I repeat,cannot, go to Harley fucking Wingroves house, dressed like this!” He frowns, pulling at his white shirt, pointing out the subtle stain that I noticed earlier. Scooping my phone up from the car mat, he stares wide eyed at my screen in disbelief.
“Maybe you need to learn to chew your food properly so it doesn’t fall out of your mouth when you eat then, you idiot.” I laugh and he tries to grab the wheel to force the car to turn around, but I smack his hand away. “You forced yourself to come along. I can take you back to the apartment if you really want, but not to change. Once you’re home, you’re home.”
We stop at the only red light in town, and his knee bounces rapidly, internally fighting with himself over how to handle this situation. “What’ll it be, Tatey-Boy? Home with clean clothes, or a games night spent with one, maybetwoof your sporting heroes?” I ask, jaw clenched, struggling to keep the smile off my face.
“Two?” He gawks at me, mouth wide open before he snaps it shut. “Do you have a baby wipe or something?” he asksfrantically, licking his thumb, attempting to use his saliva to remove the stain.
“Why the fuck would I have baby wipes?”
“I don’t fucking know, Cole, I’m freaking out, man! You better hope the light in his house is dim so he can’t see this stain,” he warns, admitting defeat, and sinking into the passenger’s seat.
“No,youbetter hope.”
We spend the rest of the drive in silence, the only sound filling the void is my brother's shoe tapping frantically on the rubber mats on the floor beneath his feet.
Heading up the long, winding driveway, my brother's mouth hangs open as we stare at the home—no,mansion—in front of us. I don’t think either of us have ever even been this close to a house that looks like this on the outside, let alone be invited inside as guests.
“Please don’t embarrass me,” I warn him as we both step out onto the cobblestone driveway, parked next to Cassandra’s expensive car and a bunch of others lined up beside it.
“I can keep my cool, believe it or not.” He sighs, squaring his shoulders, straightening his back, chin perked up a little higher.
“Relax, for fucks sake.” I hiss at him, and he flashes his pearly whites, confidence now oozing from him. I don’t know why he never took up acting. The way he can switch it on and off will never fail to amaze me.
He and I close our car doors, and walk side by side toward the entrance of the home. My knuckles tap against the door.
“Wingrove, my man! How have you been?” my brother asks as soon as the black, wooden double doors open.
“Tate, nice to see you again, man.” Their hands echo as they cup together in a firm handshake, and I want to throw myself into oncoming traffic.
“Hey, Wingrove. Nice to see you again. Thanks for the invite.” I flick my brother a look that screams, ‘shut the fuck up,’ and heall but shoves me out the way as his sporting hero holds the door open for us to enter.
“Nice to see you again, too, Cole. Honestly, it will be nice to have other guys here tonight.”
“Sorry about him,” I quietly say to Harley, trying to keep my embarrassment to a minimum. “He’s like a new puppy who hates being left home alone. I had no choice.” I shrug and he chuckles, closing the door behind us.
“It’s all good, man. The more the merrier. Your girlfriend is inside.” He chuckles to himself, handing me a beer, and I follow closely behind him. My brother has made himself completely comfortable, hovering around a dining table where a charcuterie board looks barely touched, already deep in conversation with a group of women.
Some, I recognize, some, I don’t.
“I see what you mean. You really are the only dude,” I say to Harley, and he laughs out loud, taking a long pull of his beer.
“Usually, yeah. But tonight my business partner is here too—” he begins, but before he can continue, the sound of a woman squealing pierces through my ears, I’m certain my eardrums are completely ruptured.
“Robbie fucking Crossland!” My brother, the voice behind the woman’s squeal leaps out of the seat that he’d gotten comfortable in, and all the women surrounding him turn to see a very startled Robbie blocking his ears to lessen the blow.
“Uh, hey,” he says reluctantly, his eyes flicking between Harley and Cassandra as if to say, ‘who the fuck is this guy and why is he here?’. I do my best to cower away and hide behind my own mortification.
“Fuck, I’m such a huge fan. Shit, I swore, sorry. Hi, I’m Tate Green, sports agent turned acting agent for my brother over there.” He flicks his thumb in my direction, and the group ofgirls snicker to themselves at their friend’s visible discomfort caused by this total stranger that’s invaded their space.
