One of the Guys

by A. R. Perry

  One of the Guys

  A.R. Perry

  Legendary Books

  Contents

  1. Rylee

  2. Spencer

  3. Rylee

  4. Rylee

  5. Spencer

  6. Rylee

  7. Spencer

  8. Rylee

  9. Rylee

  10. Spencer

  11. Rylee

  12. Rylee

  13. Spencer

  14. Rylee

  15. Rylee

  16. Rylee

  17. Spencer

  18. Rylee

  19. Spencer

  20. Rylee

  21. Spencer

  22. Rylee

  23. Rylee

  24. Spencer

  25. Rylee

  26. Spencer

  27. Rylee

  28. Rylee

  29. Rylee

  30. Spencer

  31. Rylee

  32. Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by A.R. Perry

  Legendary Books

  One of the Guys

  A.R. Perry

  Copyright © 2019 by A.R. Perry

  All rights reserved

  Copyeditor: Anne-Marie Rutella

  Cover and interior designed by: Lost Atlantis Designs

  All rights reserved. This was self-published by A.R Perry under Legendary Books. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  “You almost broke your face.” Spencer rolls to a stop in front of where I sit on the hot cement, cradling the two pieces of my busted skateboard.

  No way will Mom give another advance on my allowance. I’m three weeks in the hole as it is. Dad on the other hand…

  Spencer’s words click and I scowl up at him. “I didn’t almost break my face. I landed that trick perfectly.”

  “Uh-huh.” He swings his board up and cradles it behind his sweaty neck, propping his head on it.

  “Tell me, how does your tailbone feel after that failed 3-shove?” As I knock the dirt off my jean shorts I spot a nice bruise forming on my knee. I’ll never admit it, but I came close to a broken nose.

  And now my mom is going to kill me because I’m expected to be a lady Saturday at her friend’s daughter’s wedding. Which is in two days. My whole kneecap will be purple by then.

  Whoops.

  Notice the lack of remorse? That’s because any positive emotions I had faded away years ago.

  Maybe this will be the final straw that gets me out of these ridiculous events. Church—until everyone got busy, and it fell by the wayside—weddings, family reunions. They’re always so stressful. Trips to the salon. Dresses. Makeup. My mom spends days to a week before “glamming” me up into the girl she prayed for.

  Poor Mom. Tried four times for a girl and ended up with me. Not her idea of a princess. Dad doesn’t seem to mind. Or I should say didn’t mind. I was just another one of his boys until I got my period. After that, it was all lectures about not dating and an irritated snort every time Mom forced me into something pink.

  It’s the reason I’ll be able to guilt him into an allowance advance. If he had to choose between me being at the skate park with Spencer or me being on a date, he would choose the skate park. Without question. Every time.

  The alarm on my phone goes off making me jump. “Is it six already?”

  “Afraid so.” Spencer picks up his flannel shirt and slings it over his shoulder. “Want a ride home?”

  I hold up the two pieces of my deck and roll my eyes. “No choice now.”

  Not that I would ever turn down a ride even right up the road. And he would never miss an opportunity to offer one. Spencer has driven every day since he got a car for his sixteenth birthday. I would too, but being the youngest of four kids by mere minutes, I get shafted on those kinds of things.

  “Might have to hose you off first.” Spencer pinches his nose and leans away fanning the air.

  “Please, I smell like freaking roses and rainbows.” Water hits him square in the face and I cackle, wriggling away from his grabbing hand while taking a swig from my water bottle.

  “Oh, you’re so going to regret that.” Spencer lunges forward, his board hitting the ground so he has both hands, and this time I don’t get away.

  A high-pitched squeal escapes me as he swings me up onto his shoulder, pinning my kicking legs against his chest. I struggle to breathe as he stomps through the chain-link fence drawing the attention of a group of kids sitting at a bench. My fingers dig into his lower back, allowing me enough wiggle room to lift my stomach off his shoulder and take a deep breath.

  I hate that he’s taller than me now.

  Before I can take in our new surroundings, I’m being lifted and planted on my feet only to have my head shoved forward.

  Icy water pelts my face. I press against the cold metal of what I assume is the drinking fountain, but Spencer’s grip is too strong.

  “Say sorry,” he taunts from behind me.

  “Never,” I gasp once he lets go of the button. Wrong answer because water once again blocks out my vision. I would be angrier if it wasn’t so refreshing. After all, we did spend all afternoon skating in the hot California sun.

  After a few more seconds of waterboarding, Spencer lets me go and dances out of reach knowing I’ll go right for him. I throw what he calls my death glare over my shoulder and use the hem of my shirt to wipe water droplets from my eyes.

  “That’s no way to treat a lady.”

  “Good thing there are no ladies around.”

  That’s Spencer’s and my relationship in a nutshell. We’re closer than I am to my own brothers. He doesn’t see me as a girl about as much as I don’t see him as a boy. I mean, clearly, he’s a boy. But he’s Spencer. Where other girls started drooling over him about the time he hit his second growth spurt and filled out, I just saw him as my best friend. And if I was ever seen as something other than one of the guys, it would be by someone other than Spencer. He’s got his Rylee blinders on tight.

  “What’s Mom making for dinner tonight?” Spencer asks as we make our way back to our abandoned boards.

  “Don’t you have a family?”

  “Yeah, but my mom burns water.”

  I pick up my busted deck and backpack. “Explain how that works again?”

  “You’d have to ask her. All I know is Dad keeps four fire extinguishers around the kitchen.”

  “Sad.”

  “Very.” Spencer slings a sweaty arm over my shoulder as we walk to the parking lot. “Which is why I’m so glad your mom cooks for an army every night.”

  “No clue what she’ll do when Will goes off to college next year, and she’s left with just Ryan and me.”

  “Continue to provide me with breakfast, lunch, and dinner?”

  I shove him off me and round to the passenger side of his Toyota Camry. “Who says I’m going to keep you around that long? Junior year is coming to a close in a couple of months and summer can change a lot of things.”

  His hand slaps over his heart. “That hurts.”

  I wink as I climb inside, tossing my bag into the back seat. Spencer hops in a few seconds later and flings his sweat-covered shirt at me.

  “You’re disgusting.” I ball up the shirt and throw it with the rest of our stuff.

  Spencer smiles and starts the car. Silence is washed away by blaring music. As of late, he’s been into 90s grunge. He found an old CD
in his dad’s office and that’s all I’ve been subjected to since then.

  I reach for the volume, but he knocks my hand away. “Driver’s choice,” he screams over the wailing of a guitar.

  Okay. It’s not as bad as I pretend it is. Some of it is great. But admitting Spencer is right about, well, anything is a terrible idea. Someone has to keep him in his place. His head is big enough as is.

  Spencer flies out of the parking lot and into traffic, coming close to a truck and making me reach for the handle above the door.

  If we both hadn’t taken our driving test on the same day, I would question the legitimacy of his license. Every ride comes with at least one heart-stopping moment.

  A few minutes later he turns into our subdivision and switches off the music. Our neighbor Mrs. Ronald once told him she could hear his music all the way inside her house and ever since he’s taken extra effort to not disturb her.

  It’s mostly because she’s terrifying when angry.

  Ever see a Chihuahua going after someone’s ankles? Yeah, like that except instead of biting she won’t hesitate to whack you upside the head with a rolled-up magazine.

  Spencer pulls into his driveway and I notice right away that both of his parents’ cars are missing.

  “Where are the ‘rents?”

  He shrugs and reaches for his board and bag, but I catch the slight drop in his usual happy expression.

  He’s been over at my house a lot more. Not that him being around is abnormal behavior. We grew up across the street from each other and have been friends since I ran him over with my BMX bike when I was seven. But lately, it seems as if he never wants to go home.

  I let the subject drop. When he’s ready to talk, I’ll be waiting. “Dinner in ten.” I hop out and sling my backpack onto my shoulder. “Make sure to shower this time. Don’t want to sit downwind from you again and lose my appetite.”

  “Ditto.”

  Jogging across the street, I wave to Mr. Clark in as he mows his impeccable yard. Seriously, it puts ours to shame, but that’s because Dad put Will in charge of it and the boy is never home.

  “Hey, Ma,” I call as I dump my stuff by the door. The smell of lasagna hits me full force making me salivate and my stomach rumble in agreement.

  “Hey, peanut.” Her blond head comes into view, the smile dropping from her face when she takes in my soaked clothes and matted hair. “What happened?”

  “What do you mean?” I brush by her, grabbing a grape from the fruit bowl on the way to the fridge.

  “Did you go swimming?”

  “It’s a billion degrees out. I dumped some water on my head.”

  She makes an unhappy noise, something between a sigh and a growl. “And what did you do to your elbow? Didn’t I ask you to be careful?”

  I twist so I can see my elbow and sure enough it’s scraped and smeared with dried blood. Guess I hit more than my knee in the fall.

  “It looks worse than it is.” I snag a water bottle from the fridge. In two gulps I polish it off.

  “That’s kind of the point, Rylee. In two days you have to wear a dress and stand in pictures and now you’re covered in scratches and bruises.”

  “Why will I be in pictures again? I don’t even know this chick. The only reason I’m going is because you’re dragging me there.”

  My mom slams a spatula down on the counter. “Rylee Noel Everett.” I cringe at the full name drop. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but the attitude needs to stop. You throw a tantrum every single time we have a family event.”

  “Maybe because you parade me around like an award-winning poodle,” I mutter.

  Her eyebrow shoots up and I swear if looks could kill I would not just drop dead but combust. “What was that?”

  “I said I’m going to take a shower.” I plant a kiss on her cheek as I walk by. There’s no point in arguing with her. “Spence will be here in like five for dinner.”

  She nods and goes back to the stove, but I can see the tense set in her shoulders. I’ll hear about this again later but from Dad.

  Ryan, my twin, according to genetics, is coming down the stairs as I head up. His face is pointed down with zero attention dedicated to his surroundings. He’s always glued to his phone. It’s aggravating.

  As I pass him, I smack the phone, making him gasp and fumble to catch it before it falls and cracks yet another screen.

  “Jerk!” He snatches the back of my shirt as I try to run away. Guess I didn’t think this whole thing out.

  “Let go!” I tug and hear the fabric rip.

  Oh, so dead.

  I grab a fistful of his overgrown hair, dragging him up the last few steps so we don’t tumble down. The second my foot hits the landing, he gives me a shove, forcing me to let go or slam into the wall.

  “I don’t want another ER visit!” My mom yells from the kitchen.

  “Enough, guys.” Dad steps out of their room and tears us apart, keeping us both at arm’s length.

  He’s perfected that move over the years.

  “She started it.” Ryan jabs a finger in my direction to which I stick my tongue out.

  “He wasn’t looking where he was going.”

  “I don’t care whose fault it is. Both of you knock it off and get ready for dinner.”

  Ryan brushes a hand down the front of his shirt smoothing out the wrinkles and rolls his eyes as our dad stupidly leaves us in the hall. It’s been seventeen years, it’s as if he’s learned nothing.

  I smile and backstep toward the bathroom. “Keep rolling your eyes. You might find your brain back there.”

  He lunges for me again, but I managed to slip inside the bathroom and slam the door, locking it right as the handle jiggles.

  My smile widens as I hear Dad call Ryan downstairs, his tone clearly irritated.

  Now I can shower in peace.

  “Dinner smells amazing,” I say as I walk into the kitchen through the side door.

  Rylee gives me a weird look and I know it’s because she beat me to the table. Out of all of us, including her brothers, I’m the only one who knows what being on time means.

  I would have been on time too if my mom hadn’t shown up right as I was leaving. She wanted to talk, then spent fifteen minutes bitching about my dad.

  Fun times.

  “Didn’t think you were going to make it,” Mrs. Everett says as she hands me a can of Coke.

  I smile, but judging from the deep-set frown Rylee has going on, she senses something is wrong. Heck, she sensed it earlier in the driveway.

  As my best friend, I should tell her, but she’ll go into fix mode and she can’t fix my parents’ marriage.

  They can’t even fix it.

  “Dig in.” Mrs. Everett sets the giant pan of lasagna down in the center of the table next to a bowl of garlic bread.

  Mr. Everett goes about dishing it, keeping the peace because he’s seen what happens if we serve ourselves. A fight always breaks out usually between Rylee and Ryan.

  Rylee sits across from me next to her older brother, Will. She has me locked in her sights and I see those wheels turning. It’s been hell hiding this from her since my parents announced their separation two weeks ago. Luckily that had been during spring break and Rylee and her family were off camping at the beach. By the time they got back, I’d figured out a way to mask my feelings.

  “So, Spencer, how is school going?” Mrs. Everett asks as she pours a glass of wine.

  “Ready for summer.”

  “I can’t believe you guys are going to be seniors. And my Will is going to be graduating and leaving me to run off to Oregon State.”

  Mr. Everett shakes his head. I’m sure he’s been hearing about this since January. Having their second kid off to college, then all three of us in a year must be heavy for her. She’s always been about family and I’ve been lucky enough to be a part of it for so long.

  Little do they know that my time here might be up sooner than a year. According to my parents’ whisper-ye
lled conversation, there’s no guarantee who I will end up with or what they will do with the house.

  Everyone quiets down as they shovel food in. They all act as if there won’t be enough for seconds if they don’t finish first. Trust me, Mrs. Everett makes enough to feed a football team. She has to with the way we eat.

  “So, are you Ry’s date for the wedding Saturday?” Will asks. Rylee growls and elbows him, but he just laughs.

  “Um. I hadn’t planned on—”

  “You should come!” Mrs. Everett claps her hands together, eyes going all puppy dog like every other time one of Rylee’s brothers mention us dating.

  It was awkward when we were eleven. It’s more awkward now, but that’s because it’s hard to miss how gorgeous Rylee has gotten over the years. Standing with her brothers and making sure that no guy asks her out has gotten harder and harder. Although, her brothers might murder me if they knew the reason I was warding off the guys.

  “Mom—”

  “No,” I cut her off. “I’d love to. I still have a suit from the last time.”

  Rylee cradles her face in her hands, pink splotches showing through her fingers. She hates that I’m always a default date for her. I can’t say I’m equally disappointed.

  “You don’t have to come,” Rylee says and hands me a bowl to load into the dishwasher.

  We drew straws and lost. Well, Rylee lost, but in her world, that means I lose too.

  “I don’t have any other plans what with my best friend being held hostage by a pink dress.”

  She scoffs and flicks soapy water at me. “You jest but it’s serious. This one has lace, Spence. Lace!”