My brother took another bite, not caring his mouth was full of food as he spoke. “Me and some of the guys are getting together to drill.”
I raised a brow. “On a Saturday morning?”
Preston nodded as he swallowed.
“At seven?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
I set my hands on the table and fixed Preston with a stare. “Um, because I’ve lived with you for the last eleven years, and I’ve never seen you get up early unless you absolutely had to.”
“It’s senior year,” he said.
“And you need to beat Brooks.” It wasn’t a question, and I hoped Preston wouldn’t pick up on the lack of appropriate animosity in my tone. My face heated knowing I harbored a secret crush on his sworn enemy.
I turned my face down at my plate of food, afraid that he or our mom, who’d just sat down at the table with us, would notice my guilty expression.
“Wow. You must have really needed that sleep because you look super out of it,” Preston said.
I kept my head turned down toward the table.
“No,” Mom added. “She’s probably just hungry. Charlie was supposed to get up early to eat—not argue with her brother.”
She slid the plate closer to me, and I reached down to grab a piece of bacon. It settled as a giant lump in my stomach, but I plastered a smile on my face. “It’s perfect.”
Satisfied, our mom got back up and started washing some of the dishes she’d dirtied making breakfast. I looked up at Preston. “Ok, but seriously, why are you and the guys practicing so early? Not everyone has a super-vendetta against Brooks and feels the need to spend every waking moment gearing up to bring him down.”
“Well, they should,” he teased, and I forced a small chuckle. “One of the guys has work later this afternoon. We want to make sure we’re a well-oiled machine this season.”
I tilted my head and thought about their team’s center. He had more dedication than the rest of the starting five put together, even if you took Preston’s grudge into account. “You mean Mackey wants you to be a well-oiled machine, right?”
Preston leaned over the table so that his face was close to mine. “If we’re all parts in the same machine. We all want that.”
“You sound like you’ve been brainwashed.”
His face went impossibly blank, his eyes stared off into the distance. “Join us, Charlie. Feed the machine.”
I leaned over the table and playfully shoved his face. Preston just laughed as he stuck another bite of food into his mouth.
I let out a breath as I relaxed just a little. Teasing my brother was much more natural than keeping secrets from him.
“Don’t you need to get going?” our mom asked a couple of minutes, and several bites, later.
I looked down at my phone. Helping Hands expected me at the nursing home in ten minutes, and it would take every one of them to get there in time. I’d been too busy thinking about Jackson, goofing around with Preston, and shoveling food into my mouth. I’d completely lost track of time. “Crap!”
I jumped up and grabbed my keys from the hook by the door.
“What are you doing?” Preston asked.
“I need the car.”
“Uh, so do I.”
Oh, right. My brother had an unofficial practice with his teammates. He’d literally just told me that.
“Come on,” he said, already making his way out of the kitchen toward the front door. “I’ll drop you off on the way to Mackey’s.”
“Yeah, but how am I gonna get home?”
He groaned. “I guess I’ll have to pick you up, but shouldn’t we get going?”
I looked back down at my phone. Nine minutes until Mrs. Gibbs had my head on a platter. I doubted talking to her nephew all week would earn me any special treatment.
“Good point. We’ll figure it out on the way.”
Preston and I raced out the front door, as our mom yelled at us to drive safely. “Helping Hands isn’t worth getting into an accident! Neither is your practice, Pres!”
Laughing at Mom’s overprotectiveness, we quickly got in the car, and my brother backed out of the driveway.
He took each speed limit sign we passed as a mere suggestion, which meant we pulled up to the front door of the nursing home with one minute to spare.
“Thanks, Pres” I yelled as I jumped out of my seat. “I’ll text you later when I need a ride.”
“Whatever,” he said as I slammed the door.
I ran to the front door and skidded to a stop when I joined the rest of the group in the lobby.
“You’re late,” Mrs. Gibbs said the moment I joined them.
I shook my head. “No, I still have a minute.”
She looked down at her watch and back up to me with a frown but didn’t say anything else about it. Instead, she started talking to the group about the kind of behavior that was expected while we were here. We were to use “sir” and “ma’am” when we talked to all the residents. Our job was to help with small tasks they were unable to do, but if the residents we were assigned to wanted to talk, we were to slow down and spend some time listening.
“Some of these people don’t get a lot of visitors. We want to make sure we make them feel valued.”
She continued to go over the rules, and I looked around at the group. I’d only seen these people sweating up a storm as we picked up trash and cleaned up Saunders Park. I had to admit, the other delinquents and I cleaned up nicely.
Most of the girls wore dresses, though there were a couple of them who wore dress pants like me. The guys were in button-down shirts and khakis, and all looked very handsome. My eyes continued to scan the crowd, but I couldn’t find the one person I was looking for.
Mrs. Gibbs started assigning places for everyone and paired me with the girl who had warned me about Jackson the week before. I now knew her name was Mila. She wore a dress covered in flowers that were almost as small and petite as her. She watched me as I walked over to her with a look that wasn’t exactly cold but wasn’t warm either.
“Looks like we’re partners,” I said as I stood beside her.
She lifted her eyebrows. “Yep.”
“Our first room is in the East wing.”
“Uh, huh.”
Apparently, she wasn’t the talkative type. That was fine.
When we arrived at the first room, we helped move some things around for all of five minutes before the elderly woman had us sitting down and looking at photo albums. We ooh-ed and ahh-ed at the appropriate times and before I realized it, an entire hour had passed.
“Um,” I interrupted a long-winded monologue about the Vietnam war. “We need to go help some other women with their rooms.”
A small smile touched Mila’s lips—the first one all morning—but she still didn’t say anything.
The woman let us go without much of a fight, and soon we were standing in the hallway ready to start all over again. At this rate, we’d move some picture frames in about five rooms, if we were lucky. But at least it wasn’t picking up trash in the sun again.
I was just lifting my hand to knock on the next door when a male voice called out down the hall. “Hey!”
I looked over to see Jackson walking in our direction. My stomach flipped at the sight of him. He wore a crisp white shirt, a straight tie, and a pair of black pants. His brown hair was neatly combed back.
That boy could pull off the well-dressed look as well as he managed to look good while working outside in shorts and a tee.
I couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped my lips, and when Mila turned her head sharply in my direction, I knew she’d heard it too. She’d literally been warning me about Brooks the week before, and now I was practically turning into a puddle as he got closer.
“Mila,” he said as he stopped in front of us.
“Brooks.” Mila crossed her arms across her chest.
Jackson’s posture was stiff.
I felt like I’d just walked in on an ar
gument of some sorts, even though Jackson was the one to step up to us.
There was a history here, and it wasn’t a pleasant one. Had I been spending the morning with his ex-girlfriend? Was that the reason she’d been so quick to discourage my flirting? Or why she’d been quiet all morning?
“Would you mind giving us a minute?” he asked Mila.
She gave me one more of her mysterious looks, but eventually nodded and walked down the hall away from our assigned room.
Once she was safely out of range, I looked up at Jackson, a giddy smile on my lips. “Hey.”
He smiled in return. “Hey.”
“I didn’t see you this morning. You know, in the group in the lobby.” My voice trailed off, realizing how lame and stalker-ish I sounded.
But thankfully, Jackson’s smile only grew.
“Yeah, I missed you too.” He winked.
“That’s not what I was saying!” I argued.
Jackson chuckled. “You were worried you weren’t going to see me today. Admit it.”
“No,” I said, sure my cheeks were bright red but unwilling to tell him I’d been looking for him.
“Fine. I’ll admit it then. I was afraid I wasn’t going to see you today. Aunt Kathy had me helping the guys who work here by bringing in some boxes from this morning’s delivery. It was unbelievable how many of them there were.”
“I wonder why,” I mused aloud, trying not to picture Jackson’s muscles flexing as he moved box after box.
“It was mostly food.” He leaned in close and whispered. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of Jell-O the people who live here eat.”
“Really?”
He nodded seriously. “It’s like liquid gold to these people.”
“Or gelatinous gold, in this case.”
“Exactly.”
We stood in silence and, once again, I was taken aback by how handsome he looked all dressed up. I wondered what it would be like to go to the dance that night with him, and like a complete idiot blurted, “Tonight is Rosemark’s Homecoming.”
As soon as I spoke the words, I regretted them. The blush was back, and I swore I could feel it creeping all the way down my neck. I closed my eyes.
Please don’t make a big deal out of this, I thought to myself as I waited for him to respond.
When he didn’t speak, I slowly opened my eyes and was met with him staring intently at me. A crease formed between his brows. His mouth opened like he was going to say something, but he quickly closed it.
“Yep,” I said. “And I’m going to go crawl into a hole now.”
I started to turn to find Mila because even her creepy silence was sounding better than this, but Jackson reached out and grabbed my wrist.
“Don’t go.”
I stopped and faced him. My skin burned where he touched me.
His gaze was questioning. “I’m just not sure what you’re trying to say. Are you asking me to go to your Homecoming with you tonight?”
I let out a weird, strangled sound from the back of my throat and shook my head back and forth quickly. Just because I imagined it, didn’t mean I was asking for it. “No,” I said emphatically and tacked on some more for good measure. “No, no, no, no, no.”
Jackson let out a breath of relief and smiled. “Phew. I was trying to figure out how I was going to survive the lion’s den.”
“Wait. Would you have said yes?” I looked down to where he still held onto me.
“I don’t know.” He paused. “Maybe?”
Huh. That was unexpected.
“Are you going?” he asked.
“Nope.” I lifted my shoulders. “My ex is going to be there, and I don’t want to risk bumping into him.”
“That guy’s pretty bad, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.” I glanced down at my shoes, not wanting to talk about Anderson. I changed the subject. “So, what are you supposed to be doing right now?
He looked up and down the hall. “Oh, yeah. Well, my Aunt Kathy told me I could take a little break before I unload a few more boxes.”
“Then you should go. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” I reached out and pushed his shoulder. My hand found strong muscle.
Jackson looked down to where my hand touched him, and I quickly pulled it back.
“I’m glad I found you, you know.”
I lifted my brows. “Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because as pretty as you were picking up trash, you’re even prettier all dressed up.”
My breath caught in my chest. Unable to answer, I smiled and tucked an imaginary strand of hair behind my ear.
“Jackson!”
We both looked toward the direction of the voice. Mrs. Gibbs sped down the hallway. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I told the owner of this place you’d be helping with some of the larger boxes, and then you went completely MIA.”
Jackson didn’t move immediately, so she lightly patted his back. “Go on, now.”
Jackson walked down the hall, and I really tried not to admire the way he looked in his pants.
“And you.” The smile fell from my face as I turned back toward Mrs. Gibbs. She wore a mask of disapproval, probably because she’d just caught me checking out her nephew. “You’re supposed to be helping some of the female residents. Where’s Mila?”
“I, uh…”
“Go find her and get back to work.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I walked down the hall looking for Mila. I was prepared to search all over the nursing home, but she found me as soon as I turned the corner.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said before we started back on that day’s activities.
Chapter Eight
6:03 PM
Daria: Are you sure I can’t convince you to come to Homecoming with me????
Charlie: Uhhhh… Aren’t you going to dinner soon?
Daria: You could throw on a dress and some lipstick in like 5 minutes.
Charlie: As appealing as rushing to get dressed up sounds, I do NOT want to see Anderson all over Linzie. Sorry. I’m staying in.
Daria: You stink.
Charlie: Not as bad as you do after basketball practice.
Daria: Oh, whatever. You’re talking trash now, but just you wait until tryouts next week. This stinky girl is gonna leave you in her dust.
Charlie: You wish!
Daria: Hey, gotta go. My mom is downstairs yelling about pictures.
Charlie: Have fun!
Daria: Text me if you change your mind.
Nope. I had big plans that involved doing absolutely nothing. There was nothing that was going to change my mind.
Charlie: Sorry. Not happening!
I’d no sooner set my phone down when a knock came at my door.
“Come in,” I answered, and Preston opened the door.
My brother made a show of doing a weird dance-turn move that could have rivaled the late Michael Jackson. “What do you think?” He tugged at the lapels of his grey suit jacket. He looked good, not that I had any intention of feeding his ego. I looked at his flower-covered tie and raised my brows.
His eyes went to where my gaze lingered, and he shrugged. “Beth picked it out. She said it matches her dress.”
I shook my head and laughed. “That girl has got you wrapped around her fingers.”
Preston chuckled. “Have you seen her, Charlie? Of course, I want to be wrapped around her fingers.”
“You’re hopeless.”
He straightened his posture and pushed his shoulders back. “I’m not hopeless, I’m romantic. There’s a difference.”
“If you say so.” I rolled my eyes.
“As your older, and much wiser, brother, I’m going to have to stick to my guns on this one.”
I pantomimed wrapping a string around my finger.
Preston shook his head. “Listen, everyone’s gonna be here soon, but Mom wanted me to check on you. You know, make sure you were okay not going to Homecoming since it’s senior year
and all.”
I rubbed my palm over my forehead. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
Preston looked at me, confusion evident on his face.
I pointed to where my phone sat on my bed. “I literally just got done having this conversation with Daria.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Anderson will be there tonight, and while I have no desire to get back together with him, I also don’t want to throw up all over the dance floor from watching him and Linzie dance all up in each other’s business.”
“Because that’s worse than the making out all over Rosemark?” he asked.
He, of course, was referring to the way Anderson acted around Linzie. He’d finally accepted we weren’t getting back together and had been kissing the girl all over campus like it was the secret to curing cancer or something.
There wasn’t a student at Rosemark who hadn’t caught them swapping spit in the hallways, or the lunchroom, or the parking lot. No place was safe!
“I don’t know. I’d prefer not to see any of it.” I shook my head to clear the images. “Plus, it’s just a dance. There’ll be another one in the spring. Maybe by then, I’ll be up for dressing up and dancing. Who knows, I might even find a respectable guy to take me.”
Like Jackson, I thought to myself.
“Oh, please. We both know I’m the only worthwhile guy at Rosemark, and I’m your brother, Charlie. Stop being so weird.”
With those words, all gushy feelings about Jackson went right out the window. I laughed and threw my pillow at Preston. “Right. Because I’m the weird one.”
Preston beamed back at me before an earnest look came over his face. “Seriously, though. What are you going to do since everyone will be there?”
“Not everyone.” I pointed at myself.
“You know what I mean.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Wear pajamas and watch TV? I’m not completely dependent on others. Contrary to popular belief, a night in won’t kill me.”
“I hope not.” He gently smacked his hand against the door jamb. “Well, I guess have fun watching TV.”
“And you have fun bending to Beth’s every whim and make sure to tell her I said hi.”
Courtside Crush: Varsity Girlfriends Book One Page 6