The Underdogs: The Complete Series

by Stewart , Kate

  In the hall, I pause at a picture of the four of us—Gran, Mom, Max, and me—that we took on the porch a few years ago.

  “Max, you were a handsome devil.”

  His reply is a cold-nosed nudge to my ankle. “Okay, okay.”

  Though the house is old, I love every nook and cranny. Every memory that makes me up is tucked in some corner of this ranch home. Gran had signed the title over to the both of us the first time she got sick. She died knowing her daughter and granddaughter will always have a place to call home. It was both her legacy and parting gift to us. Mom says she’ll sign it over to me once I figure out what life I want.

  That’s a question I’ve never been able to fully answer with certainty.

  Circling my bedroom, I glance at the packed suitcase in my closet collecting dust. It’s been packed since the day I started college. I know its contents. Seven pairs of underwear. Seven dresses with the tags still attached. Seven pairs of light socks. A swimsuit. Four sweaters, three pairs of jeans. I swore to myself once I collected my diploma, I would use it. I am only two semesters away, and I still have no idea where I am going, but I am going.

  I’ve never once factored a guy into any of my plans. It could be why I’m hesitant to keep one longer than a few months. Life is hard enough making decisions for one.

  Dressed in my pajamas, I brush my teeth for the second time thinking about my conversation with the guy who’d made me laugh, despite the shitstorm my night had turned into. I can’t help my foam-filled smile. He is holding out for something different himself, and it gives me hope. Not about a future with him, odds are good I’ll never see him again. But his quest is like my own. But first, I need to take a break, and a good hard look at myself. Scrutinizing my reflection, I decide to cut down on Doritos. Satan made that chip specifically to ruin my thighs.

  “Max,” I line my brush with more paste as I spot him in the mirror behind me. He lifts his head and tilts it. “We’re going to do better. Do you hear me? We’re going to get more exercise, forget about the other hounds for a while and concentrate on our goals.” Max sighs and drops his head to rest on his paws. I can feel both his dread and judgment.

  “As soon as I figure out what those goals are,” I whisper around my brush.

  We’re natural survivors, my mother and me and we grew up with enough love from the female side not to feel cheated. I have no plans to follow in my father’s footsteps, personally or otherwise, and sit in a corner office ignoring life. I want more than that, I just haven’t put my finger on what yet. I figure my gypsy heart will let me know.

  Theo

  “What in the hell happened to you? Is that from last night?”

  Kevin gawks at my newly-cleaved chest from the kitchen to where I stand in our pantry/laundry room with a massive hangover. It’s everything I can do to keep my head up as I stuff my dirty clothes in the washer.

  Troy catches sight of my back while lifting the orange juice carton to his mouth and bursts into laughter. “Damn, man, did you not get one swing in?”

  “I’ll kill you both,” I mumble, adding detergent, “I swear to God.”

  Troy guzzles down the juice and crushes the carton before tossing it into the trash. He’s a tidy roommate, I’ll give him that. “Hey,” he says in reaction to my hate stare, “you needed the help.”

  “I asked for no such thing!” I stab an accusing finger in his direction. They both erupt into more laughter, and Troy shakes his head before reading my expression.

  “You’re really pissed, dude?”

  “Yeah, dude, I really am.”

  Troy nods toward Kevin. “Give us a minute.”

  “I’m on the X-box,” Kevin says, making his exit to the living room while Troy crowds the space.

  “That bad?”

  “I really don’t remember much, but I’m positive I enjoyed little of it.”

  “I’m sorry, man. I really was just trying to help.”

  “In the future, don’t. Do me no more favors.”

  “No one put a gun to your head.”

  “I know.”

  He paws the top of the pantry door, blocking me in and lifts one shoulder. “Didn’t have to do it to make Papa proud.”

  I raise livid eyes to his, and he grimaces. “Sorry, that was a dick thing to say, but seriously, why do it?” He eyes my chest and winces. “I don’t remember her being that rough.”

  The fact that he’s slept with her makes me cringe, but I should have expected it. I scan his solid frame. He’s got at least fifty pounds of muscle on me, so of course, he wasn’t shredded like a man toy. He probably had her purring like a kitten.

  “Troy, get in here, we’re about to start!”

  “He doesn’t live here, you know,” I snap. “He ate all my cereal and took a deuce in my bathroom this morning that could gag a rat.”

  Troy grins. “I’ll get him out of here early.”

  I nod, shutting the lid to the washer, and he leaves me to my sulking when my phone rattles with an incoming message.

  Brenna: Hey bro. What are you up to?

  I move to answer and groan when I realize it’s a group text and my sister, Courtney has decided to answer on my behalf.

  Courtney: Laundry day. Right? So predictable. Teddy, you’re boring.

  Jamie: He’s probably watching Harry Potter. There’s an all-day marathon on.

  My fingers are itching to type I’m hungover and scratched up from last night’s activity but for one—I’m not proud of it, a lion was not born last night, and two—having three older sisters is equivalent to having three extra mothers.

  Courtney: We can see you read the messages, you little shit.

  Annoyed, I type out a reply.

  Teddy: Mom should have drowned you the minute you started screaming at your baptism because it’s proof you’re inherently E V I L.

  Jamie: Whoa, easy tiger. Courtney, don’t get butt hurt. You deserved it.

  Courtney: Someone’s in a mood.

  Brenna: Can’t you ever be nice, Courtney? You just told me yesterday you missed him.

  Courtney: I did not.

  Brenna: She did, Teddy. We’ll be coming down soon.

  My whole body tenses.

  Teddy: Don’t come, I’ll be there for Thanksgiving. I’m busy. Gotta study.

  Courtney: While you do laundry?

  Brenna: I just wanted to show you how much Courtney looks like you with the new Snapchat filter.

  A picture comes through of Courtney looking like the twin version of me and in no way can I un-see it. I fight the urge to hurl into the washer.

  Courtney: You can all burn in hell.

  Jamie: OMG THEY LOOK LIKE TWINS!

  Brenna: Well they might as well be, they’re only eleven months apart.

  Teddy: I will never forgive you for that.

  Jamie: I’m going to make this into a pillow.

  Brenna: OMG. I’m dying. I want one. Oh, make one for Mom too. CHRISTMAS GIFT!

  Jamie: Done.

  Teddy: Don’t you guys have anything better to do?

  The replies come immediately.

  Jamie: No

  Brenna: No

  Courtney: You know what? I’m better looking as a man than Theo is.

  Teddy has left the conversation.

  Sighing, I close the pantry and tuck my phone in my shorts. Heading through the living room, I pass Troy and Kevin who strain to see through me at the screen. Courtney is all about the tough love. And some of it may stem from the fact that she’s the one and only girl I’ve ever stood up to–physically. Through the haze of morning, I almost forgot the retelling of that story to Laney in the dark last night. My scattered thoughts collect as I remember the feel of her hand on mine, the sound of her laughter. I’d been at ease in a haze of booze and took comfort in the fact that I didn’t regret a single one of my confessions to her. It was unlikely I’d ever see or speak to her again. The thought of that sucks, and momentary regret cloaks me as I make my way down to the basemen
t.

  Theo

  Pacing the aisles of the grocery store, I check the list Troy gave me and double back for a tomato with his crumpled twenty in my pocket. As usual, his demands exceed the chump change he gave me. I knew when he moved in, he was penniless. He has yet to pay his rent in full and his IOU’s are stacking up. I don’t mind doing the grocery shopping, because he does the yard work. I’m also the cook and adhere to his dietary restrictions. This doesn’t bother me either because I need to stay in shape myself for my own time on the field. Granted, I don’t deadlift the weight of my teammates.

  I’m halfway back to produce when I hear a familiar voice utter some magic words.

  “He’s a dick. I got tired of him. Total dick. Yeah, I know. Well, I had to figure it out for myself. Shut it right the hell on up with the, ‘I told you so’. Devin, you’re starting to sound like Momma.”

  Stopping in my tracks, I redirect all my attention toward the woman pacing an aisle over.

  It can’t be. Catching sight of her, my eyes trail down to the cowboy boots, just as she turns the corner and awareness prickles.

  It’s her.

  Frozen behind my shopping cart, I look down at my clothing choice. I’m wearing my PBS shirt, dark jeans, and Converse. I can’t remember if I gelled my hair before I left the house, which could be disastrous. Without a second thought, I follow as she spouts off on her phone.

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll meet you there.”

  I’m smiling at her back while she pushes her squeaky cart. She’s small but curvy, her dress flaring out a little at her hips. Toned calves peek out through a knee-length slit as she saunters down the aisle with purpose. Dark-brown hair flows past her shoulders swaying with her movement. Intrigued, I follow her into the next aisle as she gazes at the various pickle jars like they have some secret she’s straining to hear. She chooses kosher dill, my favorite, as I try to get a better look at her profile. Pink glossed lips protrude as she bites one of them and scans the rest of the shelves. It’s when I push forward for more inspection that she turns to look directly at me. All words fall away when I get my first real look at her.

  “Need some pickles?”

  “Sure,” I say with a grin, stepping forward and taking the jar out of her hand.

  Her mouth parts as she watches me put them in my cart.

  “Is your back broken, buddy? Or are you just desperate for pickles?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Wow, okay, enjoy.” She gives me wide eyes that scream ‘weirdo’ before she grabs a replacement jar and wheels away.

  Shaking off my shock, I turn the corner to announce myself and slam into her waiting cart as she blocks the next aisle.

  “Why are you following me? And choose your words carefully, or I will make a scene like you would never believe. You’re creeping me out right now, and I’m pretty sure I can take you.”

  I chuckle and shake my head.

  “Sorry, that was a dick move taking your pickles.”

  She narrows hazel eyes at me. Adorable. “Yes, it was. Doesn’t answer my question. Why are you following me? I assure you whatever is in my cart, they have more of it here.” I peruse her stash.

  “How about some rum?”

  “Come again?”

  “Rum.”

  “Ugh, look, I can see that you’re high…or something. But this is the grocery store.” She jerks her head. “Liquor store is down the street.”

  “I’m not high.”

  “You sure? ‘Cause that would explain a lot.”

  “Banana rum?”

  “Fascinatin’. Look, no habla whatever the hell language you’re attempting to speak to me. I’m thinking you might be a danger to yourself and others for the moment. You might need to find some bubble wrap to protect yourself with.”

  I bark out a laugh. “Laney, it’s me, Houseman.”

  She tilts her head before realization dawns, and a smile upturns her lips. “Houseman?”

  Nodding, I return her smile as her eyes trail down, taking me in. I can’t decipher what she’s thinking.

  “So, this is you?”

  “Yep. This is me.”

  “Well, you’re lucky I remembered. I was about to end you.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty funny you think you could take me.”

  “Oh, I can,” she says confidently. “How did you know it was me?”

  “I heard you on the phone.”

  “Forever an eavesdropper, huh?”

  “Forever having disturbingly private conversations in public, huh?”

  She smiles. “Got me there.”

  “Your accent is pretty unmistakable. Especially when you say the word dick.”

  She lifts a brow. I lift one back.

  “So, you all healed up?”

  “Mostly.” I palm my chest, “there’s still emotional damage.”

  She reaches in her cart and extends a bag of Twizzlers toward me. “Here, you need it more than I do.”

  “I’m good. Wouldn’t want you to miss the only fruit in your cart.”

  We grin at each other a beat longer before she sighs.

  “So, you live around here?”

  “No, I was running errands and decided to stop here instead of the store closer to home. Crazy coincidence, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  We spend a few minutes circling the aisles while I observe everything she tosses into her cart and it’s all junk. Doritos. Doritos. Doritos and one bag of sour cream and onion chips for variety.

  “Having a party?”

  “No. Why?”

  “No reason,” I say, biting back a smile. “You might want to get another bag.”

  “Don’t judge me. I’m post breakup.”

  “If memory serves me correctly, you’re the one who did the heartbreaking.”

  “It’s still a breakup,” she admonishes.

  “I’m just trying to save you from clogged arteries.”

  I lift my hands from my cart in surrender as she peruses its contents. “Leave it to you to be so disciplined.”

  “Eh, I have food allergies, like, if I eat a peanut or most any nut, and there is no EpiPen around, I die. I rarely eat out. And I live in a house full of athletes with zero percent body fat.”

  “Not cool,” she says with a sigh, “you know I’m trying to cut down on those.”

  “Sorry, if it helps, they’re both acting like fuckboys at the moment.”

  “It does help, thanks.”

  “Anytime.”

  We grin at each other.

  “I’m glad we ran into each other again,” she says. “You know it’s only been a week, but I’ve made good on my oath.”

  “Going to need to do better than a week to impress me.”

  “You seem hard to impress.”

  “Nah, just giving you shit,” I focus on the delicate curve of her slender neck, the full, dark lashes that dance over her cheeks as she scans more junk. She radiates playful energy that’s hard to ignore.

  “Well, I’m giving up fuckboys for food. So, it shouldn’t be that hard to stick to.”

  “I guess I should start a bad habit to keep up?”

  She turns to me with two boxes of Famous Amos cookies and hands me one. “You’ll thank me later.”

  “I could thank you now. That is, if I woke up this morning and thought, ‘today is a good day to die.’”

  “Oh shit, these have nuts in them,” she says, scanning the ingredients. “I may just be too dangerous for you to know.”

  “Nah, I can handle you.”

  “Think so, huh? Challenge accepted. Shop with me.”

  It’s the longest grocery store trip of my whole fucking life. Snails have a faster pace than Laney with a shopping cart.

  She literally weighs every decision she makes for ten minutes, and not only that, an aisle after a decision is made, if she finds something she wants more or a better ‘steal’, we have to double back to put it back exactly where we got it because she was taught better. I run my hand
s through my hair so many times, I feel like I’m balding by the time we make it to frozen foods. But it’s her smile and her laugh that keep me from bolting. It’s the energy I’m feeling that keeps me with her, though I’m fairly sure everything I have is hot and wilted.

  When we finally roll out of the store, she turns to me.

  “Well, what now?”

  I shrug. “Beats me. You’re the one popping up everywhere I am.”

  “Bound to happen.” She chews her lip in thought. “Maybe we’re supposed to be friends.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Give me your number,” she says, unlocking her phone before handing it to me. I type my number in, and she looks at it. “So, Theo?”

  “Yeah.”

  “As in Theodore?”

  I grimace. “Unfortunately.”

  “As in Teddy?”

  “Absolutely not,” I say with such authority, I’m rewarded with a giggle that strikes me right in the throat.

  “Fine, I’ll stick with Houseman. Where you off to?”

  “To knit some bubble wrap.”

  “Sorry about that, my mouth can get away from me sometimes.”

  “No, really?”

  “Smart ass, believe it or not, I’m shy at times around people I don’t know.”

  “Not. I don’t believe it.”

  She grins, shaking her phone in my direction, “I’ll hit you up, soon. We can hang out,” she smiles back at me as she rolls away, “and live our realest life.”

  “Sounds good.”

  We exchange curious back glances as we walk away. I’m so not her type. I can tell, and if I’m completely honest, though beautiful, she doesn’t seem like mine either.

  It doesn’t matter in the least. Some part of me wants to know her, and I can tell by the way she looks back at me before she disappears behind a row of cars, she feels the same.

  Theo

  “Sup, Theo?” my neighbor’s son, Dante yells from his porch as I check my mail.

  “Hey, Dante.”

  “I’m not allowed to get off the porch.”

  “What did you do this time?”

  He grins over at me. “Nothing.”