Fletcher( Boys of HGU #1)

by Victoria McFarlane

  The guilt over my own feelings ate at me.

  Sometimes I wondered how I had any right to be sad, not when I was planning to end things with him but regardless of any of that, I did love him. I loved him long before we ever became a couple and I’d love him for the rest of my life.

  “I’m going to go rest for a bit,” I tell mom and then head up to my old room, sucking in a breath to steady myself.

  I sleep for a few hours and at around four, I tell mom I’m heading out and walk the few blocks to the Dallas house.

  My breath comes out in white puffs of air in front of my face, my hands buried in my pockets. I smile a little looking at the giant oak tree in the front yard, the swing still hanging from one of the low branches.

  The front door opens and Mrs. Dallas steps onto the wraparound porch, drying her hands on a towel. A bright yellow apron is tied around her waist and her chestnut hair, greying at the edges now has been tied back. There are a few more wrinkles on her face than I remember and a tiredness that seems to have settled bone deep.

  “Peyton?”

  I suck in a breath, “Hi Mrs. Dallas.”

  I meet her half way, falling easily into her motherly embrace. She still smells like I remember, a mixture of something floral and sweet and she still hugs the same way. With her entire being.

  It reminded me so much of Fletcher and how he hugged me that night he brought me home from the bar.

  “Oh my girl,” she coos into my hair, “my girl.”

  She pushes me away, holding me by the tops of my arms as her eyes peruse me.

  “Now,” she purses her lips, “tell me, sweetie, just where the hell have you been, hmm? Why haven’t you been over?”

  Sheepishly I look down and shrug, “I’m not too sure.”

  She tuts as she guides me into the house. The smell of cookies wafts from the kitchen, mixed with the aroma of coffee. Mr. Dallas is in the kitchen reading a paper. Idly he lifts his eyes to me and then goes back to the paper.

  It takes him a few seconds to register and then he drops the paper and really stares at me.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” he slaps a palm onto the table, “Peyton?”

  I chuckle, “hi.”

  He stands, “Get your butt over here and give me a hug.”

  Mrs. Dallas laughs as I shuffle over and promptly get squashed in a hug so tight the air whooshes from my lungs and I squeak.

  “You too busy for us old people now?” He looks down at me.

  “I’ll make more time,” I promise, accepting the cup of coffee that is handed to me. I wrap my cold fingers around the warmth, bringing it to my face to inhale the hearty aroma.

  Nothing has really changed, the walls of the kitchen still a pale yellow colour, the drapes at the window above the sink white with little red daisies all over them, just how they were the last time I was here. I can’t even remember when that was. A sigh escapes my lips as I continue my evaluation, my eyes snagging on a photo hanging in the hall.

  With my coffee in hand I walk towards it, a little smile tugging at my mouth as I take in the photograph. It’s a picture of me and Tyler, him still dressed in his Hillgrove Tiger’s football uniform, two black smudges under his eyes. One arm is slung over my shoulders, the other is holding a helmet.

  They’d just won a game and I couldn’t wait until he was showered before I ran onto the field and he caught me, spinning me around right there on the field. His mom had taken the picture whilst I was still smiling up at him, a look of adoration in my eyes.

  I move to the next picture and shake my head. This one of me and Fletcher at the cabin in Aspen, dressed head to toe in skiing gear he’s throwing a snowball at my head and I have no idea it’s about to hit, too busy trying to smile at the camera for his mom.

  “You appear to be engrained into our history,” Mrs. Dallas muses. “Near every picture of my boys includes you.”

  I chuckle, “Should I apologize?”

  “Never, sweetie, you’re like the daughter I never had. I wouldn’t change a single thing. These memories, Tyler’s memories, they all include you so they belong here.”

  “Thank you,” I link my fingers with hers as I continue to look at each and every picture hanging on the walls.

  “I’m not in this one,” I smirk, looking at the picture of Tyler and Fletcher. They’re in swim trunks, still wet from their swim and grinning boyishly at the camera.

  Mrs. Dallas laughs, “If I remember correctly, dear, you’re the one taking the picture.”

  I laugh, “Yeah, that was me. I remember this day.”

  She nods, her eyes becoming glassy as she looks at her two boys in the photograph.

  Quickly she clears her throat and rubs her eyes, “Look at me getting all teary.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell her.

  With a deep breath that rattles her frame, she composes herself and heads back into the kitchen, leaving me to stare at the photo in front of me.

  This photo was taken the last time we were all together as a group. We spent the evening that day around a fire, roasting marshmallows and sneaking beer from the cooler they kept in the garage. I’m sure their parents knew but they never took it away or stopped us. I supposed as long as we were on their property they could keep an eye on us. That night was full of so many laughs.

  My heart aches at the memory and before I can go too far down memory lane I head back into the kitchen and sit at the table.

  “You’re coming over the eve before Thanksgiving,” Mrs. Dallas tells me.

  “Am I?” I laugh.

  “Mm-hmm,” she nods, “I won’t take no for an answer. My boy will finally be coming home and it would be nice to have you both here, ya hear me?”

  “Yes ma’am,” I tell her, “I’ll be here.”

  It’s just starting to get dark when I say my goodbyes to the Dallas’ and head back to my house to join mom and Eric for dinner.

  The talk is light for the rest of the evening and when I go to sleep that night my dreams are filled with memories from my childhood, all my time spent with the boys I loved like brothers.

  Nine

  I slap my hand on Decker’s back as we head off the field, “You ready for the game tomorrow?” I ask him.

  “As I’ll ever be,” he replies.

  I smile. There would be scouts at the game and we needed to be on top form. Colt jogs up to us, holding his helmet in one hand. His dark hair is wet with sweat.

  “We got this boys,” he hollers.

  The team behind us cheers loudly and we head into the locker rooms.

  “Yo, boys,” Derek, one of the players on defense stands up on the bench, “party at mine tomorrow after the game.”

  The room erupts in cheers, guys banging their fists off the lockers, the sound rattling through me.

  “Damn straight,” Decker cheers, “you in?” He asks both Colt and me.

  “Yeah man,” Colt bumps his fist and they both turn expectedly to me.

  “Sure,” I shrug.

  I could use a party actually. This week has been good. I’ve seen Peyton around a few times, even talked to her on a couple of occasions. Our relationship was still stilted but I knew it would take time.

  These feelings though? Yeah they were anything but stilted.

  She was just so damn beautiful it hurt. I thought it the first time I saw her too, as much as my thirteen year old brain would allow. She was the pretty new girl and I had to be the first one to talk to her. I hadn’t realized how important she would become. I also hadn’t thought that it would be my brother who would eventually win her heart.

  That’s what I get for waiting too long and not realizing what I had right in front of me.

  It’s funny really, my mom thought it would always be me and her, she called it the first time she saw us together when she first moved to Hillgrove.

  “You’re gonna marry that girl someday,” she had chuckled, rolling her lips around her smile, “I see it now.”

  A sigh escapes m
y lips as I head to the showers to wash away the sweat and dirt from my skin.

  She was wrong of course, which is a first. My mom is never wrong. No, the hurricane that is my mother was famous for her ‘predictions’. Of course, she wasn’t actually psychic, she just had a knack for guessing shit right. Except that. Peyton and I weren’t destined.

  Or maybe we were and we were just destined to fail.

  If you’ve ever loved someone you shouldn’t you’d know seeing them kills you. On one hand you want them to be happy, even if that happiness comes from someone else but on the other, you want to bang your hands on your chest and claim what you believe is rightfully yours.

  Peyton wasn’t mine. She never would be.

  In my head, she still belongs to someone else.

  My brother would hate me if he knew my true feelings for Peyton. He would’ve kicked my ass.

  I chuckle to myself. He would have tried to kick my ass but I’m big brother, I was bigger and stronger though he would never have conceded to me. We were only about eleven months apart in age but I rubbed that shit in every chance I got.

  After I’ve showered I head straight home to get some studying in and an early night. It was a big game tomorrow and I wanted to be on my best form in the hopes that another scout, other than Denver were present.

  _

  There was a buzz around campus the next day.

  Excitement for the game and the big blow out party after. It was the final Friday before the three day thanksgiving break next week and, well, everyone loves a college party.

  I get in a bit more studying at the library.

  “Can I sit here?” I instantly recognise Peyton’s voice. It sends a shiver that may as well be electric down my spine.

  I move my eyes rather than my head to look at her. She’s in a big oversized grey jumper, it hangs off one shoulder and she’s got on tight black pants that mold to her shape like a second skin. She’s holding two coffees, her fingers wrapped around the cups.

  I nod my head jerkily, trying not to drool over the slither of skin exposed at her shoulder, showing her sharp clavicles and the elegant column of her throat.

  Her creamy, silky skin looks good enough to eat and I suddenly picture us, my tongue sliding up her throat, my teeth nipping at the pulse I can see hammering beneath the skin. Her head is thrown back, her luscious dark hair spread across my pillow.

  My cock jerks at the thought, tightening in my jeans and I swallow thickly, forcing my eyes down to the book open in front of me.

  “I got you coffee,” she slides a cup towards me, “You still have it black right? One sugar?”

  I nod, taking the coffee.

  “Thank you.”

  She doesn’t say anything else as she gets her books out and begins to work quietly across from me. The toe of her boot bumps against my shoe and my eyes bounce up to her but she’s not looking at me and she’s not moving her foot away from mine. I watch, fascinated as she brings the end of her pen to her mouth and wraps her lips around it, chewing it as she reads whatever it is in her text book. Her lashes flutter and suddenly she looks up, meeting my eyes.

  They hold for too long and I’m the first one to break it, looking down to her things spread out on the table. Her sketchbook is out next to her textbook, open to a new page that has the beginnings of a new sketch on it.

  “You still draw,” I say.

  “Well I should hope so,” she laughs, “Seeing as I’m here to get my degree in illustrative graphics.”

  “Right, yeah,” I nod, “you always wanted to do that.”

  She chuckles, “I did.”

  “You’re an incredible artist.”

  Her cheeks pink and she looks down at her book, ignoring the compliment.

  Her damn foot is still pressing into mine beneath the table and as if it has a mind of its own, my foot twitches, rubbing against hers.

  Christ!

  What are we? Fucking kids playing footsies under the table.

  I snatch my leg back violently, ignoring the pain that shoots up my calf as I bash it against the chair leg.

  “Are you ready for the game?” Peyton asks a few minutes later.

  “Yeah.”

  “There’s a party after,” she says, “are you going?”

  “Yeah.”

  I’m screaming inside right now. I’m certainly not winning any awards for being an amazing conversationalist.

  “Okay well,” Peyton sighs, “Good luck for the game. Maybe I’ll see you later?”

  “You’re leaving?”

  She smiles and hesitates, like she wants to say or do something but then she just waves and heads away from me, disappearing out the front doors of the library.

  I’m not alone for long.

  “Hey Fletch,” Nina, one of the cheerleaders sits across from me, still in her gear, a tiny little blue skirt with red and white accents and a cropped shirt that shows her naval and a lot of tanned skin. Her blonde hair is pulled up, secured by the biggest blue bow I’ve ever seen.

  She’s pretty but not Peyton pretty.

  “Hi Nina,” I look back down at my books, hoping she’ll just go away.

  It’s no secret she’s been trying to get with me for months now, but I’m just not interested. The guys think I’m mad but for whatever reason she’s just not doing it for me.

  Yeah, because she’s not Peyton.

  I push the thought away. I’ve been with other girls so it can’t be that. Well that’s what I am telling myself anyway.

  “You’re gonna smash it at the game tonight,” her voice low, seductive, “and maybe after, we could you know, celebrate?”

  “There is a party,” I deadpan.

  “I meant something a little more private.”

  “Excuse me,” Peyton’s voice catches me off guard, “you’re sitting on my scarf.”

  My mouth drops open as she glares daggers at Nina. Did they have history? Do they not get along? I try to think of any times I’ve seen them together but come up empty.

  “Oh, my bad,” Nina chuckles, standing and leaning over the table towards me. She smiles seductively, giving me a view down the front of her top. I avert my eyes, landing on a pissed off Peyton.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask her.

  She snatches her scarf off the chair and stuffs it into her bag, “Nothing,” she snaps, “apologies for disturbing you. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of planning to do, for you know, after the game.”

  She heard Nina.

  Is she jealous?

  No, she can’t be. She doesn’t look at me like that.

  “Oh that’s okay, sweetie,” Nina brushes her off, “so what’d you say, Fletch?”

  Peyton is staring at me, her jaw clamped tight and twitching as she grinds her teeth.

  “Nah I’m good, Nina, thanks.” I tell Nina whilst looking at Peyton.

  “Find me later, Fletch,” Nina goes on as if I didn’t just refuse her. She winks at me before sashaying away, putting extra sway in her hips.

  “What’s wrong?” I turn back to Peyton.

  Her jaw works and she says nothing as she slips away again, leaving me wondering what the fuck just happened.

  Ten

  I have no right to feel jealous. None.

  Yet I am so freaking pissed right now it’s dangerous. I slam my way into my dorm room, startling Demi from her position on the couch. She jumps, knocking the notebook from her lap.

  “Jesus Christ, Peyton!” She hisses.

  I ignore her and head to the kitchen, slamming around to get a cup and start the coffee machine.

  Fucking Nina, with her perfect blonde hair and sexy, come fuck me eyes.

  “What the hell got into your panties?” Demi asks, coming into the kitchen.

  “Nothing,” I practically yell.

  “Oooo-kay,” she climbs onto a stool and rests her head in her hands, “come on, spill it.”

  “Nothing to spill,” I pour the coffee and take a sip, instantly regretting it as it burns i
ts way down my throat.

  “Peyton,” she says, tone serious, “What happened?”

  “Fucking, Nina.”

  “Nina?”

  I shrug, “A cheerleader.”

  “Okay, so when did we start hating cheerleaders?”

  “We don’t.”

  “When did we start hating Nina?”

  “We don’t.”

  “Okay, I’m confused. Why are we cursing this Nina if we don’t hate her?”

  I sigh. I’m being ridiculous. Frustration has me putting my coffee down and placing my head in my hands, my fingers gripping my hair a little too hard.

  “I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

  “She was flirting with Fletcher,” I tell her shamefully.

  “And she’s not allowed to do that?”

  “She can do whatever she wants, Fletcher isn’t mine.”

  “But you want him to be?”

  I groan loudly, “No.” I lie.

  “I’m so very confused.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I tell her, “I’m just being stupid.”

  She pats my head awkwardly, “You like him.”

  I laugh without humour. “Of course I like him. Pretty sure I never got over him.”

  “Oh chick,” Demi sighs, “Why don’t you just tell him?”

  I snort, “Yeah, ‘cause that’s a good idea.” I roll my eyes, “Hey Fletch, I know I dated your brother and he died but I like you, let’s get together. Yeah, not going to happen, Demi, imagine what he’d think of me!”

  “It’s not that bad, Peyton. You can’t help who you fall for.”

  I shake my head, “I’ll get over it.”

  I feel the lie on my tongue, taste it, roll it around my mouth a bit. I’ll never get over it, over him. I’ll just have to live with it.

  I leave Demi in the kitchen and head through to my room, thankful I managed to get one of these dorms rather than having to share a room. It cost more than the other twin rooms but mom and Eric insisted. I work to earn my own money, even though they wanted to just give me an allowance. I’m happy working, earning my way and when I get enough in my savings, I’ll pay them back for fronting the cost of this room.