Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“She’s sixteen.” Chase frowns.
Almost seventeen…
“I’m aware.” Deaton pulls her closer. “Been in love with her since she was thirteen.”
Chase nods, glancing over at Payton a moment before looking away.
But what the fuck, in love since thirteen? Ain’t no way…is there?
The only thing I loved at thirteen was my PlayStation remote, pizza, and football.
I eye the pair curiously, and I don’t realize my head is cocked as I stare until my sister’s hand comes across the back of my skull, knocking me out of it.
I grin her way, and she rolls her eyes.
Oh yeah, and I love my family, but my sister the most. She’s the be-all and end-all of my existence. My only purpose outside of football.
Without the two, I’d just be a dickhead who laughs when he’s stressed and smiles when he wants to punch something but can’t. Ari is the softness I don’t have but wish I did.
That’s okay, though. It just means when life is tough, I get to be the rock she needs.
And I need to be needed.
Maybe it’s a brother thing or a twin thing. Maybe it’s just a me thing, but I don’t do well when I’m optional. It’s why I was the best high school quarterback in the state two years running.
You don’t need a backup quarterback. The position exists as a precaution, a just in case, and yeah, more often than not, that backup straps in and hits the field a handful of times a season, but the starter?
That number one slot?
You need that fucker.
And all my life, that fucker has been me because I make sure it is. I bust my ass all year long so there is never a doubt in anyone’s mind.
“Okay, they’re all overprotective fools, nothing new. Now, can we eat?” Cameron whines.
Everyone gets seated, and I quickly squeeze my ass into the seat right across from the happy little couple.
I stare at her until she looks up, then smile around a mouthful of burger.
“So, Deaton, where did you sleep last night?”
My sister slaps her forehead, and the others groan. But Payton?
Payton shakes her head, a small smile she tries to hide around her fork.
Satisfaction flickers through me, and I settle into my seat.
Mission accomplished.
Payton
Everyone is chatting among themselves as we follow the path of the sand closer to the pier. Mason and Lolli had been dying to go on that walk he talked about all day and finally got it started. Not sure why he’s so excited, but maybe he just really wants ice cream like Lolli does. We’ve been walking for about ten minutes now, and she’s mentioned it twice already.
I look down at my hand, fingers laced with Deaton’s, a tension between us that’s not normally there. He keeps peeking at me from the corner of his eye, so I give in and face him with what I hope is a reassuring smile.
“I love you, you know,” I whisper, and Deaton looks over at me with kind eyes.
“I know.” He presses a kiss to my cheek, and we both face forward.
Things between us feel a little fractured, which scares me.
For years, he’s all I’ve had. My brother moved in with my dad, and my mom refused to allow me to see him, and then he didn’t fight to make sure he could. Then she ran off my friends and did her best to do the same with Deaton, so it’s been hard.
He’s been the only person I could lean on for so long, my best friend, and it feels unnatural for us to have colliding mindsets. I know it’s my fault and he’s just worried. I also know the longer I avoid the conversation he’s dying to have, the worse it will likely get, but I sort of dropped two giant bombs on him in one day, and I’m a little afraid to find out if I’m the one holding the detonator or if he is.
I need more time, and while I want to be pissed that he doesn’t want to waste another second, I can’t be. As much as I don’t want to talk, I get why he needs to, but unfortunately that doesn’t make it any easier. Even now, in a group of ten or so, he keeps trying to whisper things, and I keep jumping into other people’s conversations to avoid answering.
It’s obvious as hell, but he doesn’t call me out, just shifts his arm to rest on my shoulder instead.
The chatting of the others continues as we near the pier, the night growing louder around us when Mason jumps ahead, forcing us all to pause where we stand so he can have center stage.
“Ah shit.” Mason claps, a glint in his eyes when they find mine, and somehow, I know he’s coming for me before he even moves. He is facing us, the festivities a few yards behind him, and his attention moves on to Deaton. “All right, big D—that’s for Deaton, so don’t be getting a big head.”