The Underdogs: The Complete Series

by Stewart , Kate

  “You ever going to settle on one?” I ask, tapping out a text to my sister as Troy comes into the kitchen after showing Bethany out.

  He stills in front of the coffeepot. “Now, no. Later, maybe.”

  “Not one of these women does it for you?”

  “Are you seriously lecturing me?” He turns to me, coffee in hand, his shoulders going tight as I look up to him from where I sit at the table.

  “Nope. Just curious.”

  “You going to the bonfire?”

  Avoidance. All play, no pay.

  I flip his tactic. “You should be pre-law.”

  He grins, taking it as a compliment. Like he does everything else.

  “So, you going?”

  “Not sure.”

  The bonfire is the annual ‘be there’ party and takes place in the outskirts of town. I’d gone my first two years with Nora. She gave her virginity away the second night, to the guy who took her home.

  “Supposed to be good. I’m going to help set up.”

  “I’ll think about it. Toss me some ice, would you?”

  He nods, opening the freezer where I have a Smirnoff waiting on him in plain sight.

  “You fucker.”

  Groaning, he twists off the cap and kneels as I shoulder my backpack and smirk down at him. “Bethany is a biology major and an only child, but she has two cats, Frick and Frack that she considers siblings. She’s a vegetarian and a Virgo. Her favorite book is The Handmaid’s Tale. She’s pretty sure she’s into kink but hasn’t trusted anyone to explore it with her yet. Oh,” I say as he finishes the bottle looking like he’s smelling burnt hair as I pull out my phone, “she gave me her number and left you her breakfast dishes.”

  I make it to the door as Lance bounds down the stairs making a rare appearance in nothing but mesh shorts. “Sup, Lance?”

  He nods. “Sup,” before passing me at the foot of the stairs.

  Troy barely acknowledges Lance, arms crossed as he regards me curiously from the kitchen.

  “She left her number for me?”

  “No. Because you didn’t ask her for it.”

  “And you did?”

  “No,” I shrug. “I didn’t ask her for it either. Later.”

  Theo

  Laney: Let he who is without hangover cast the first stone.

  Theo: *throws rock* Did you feel it?

  Laney: Just your judgment.

  Theo: Still hungover from Saturday?

  Laney: I may have indulged in too much hair of the dog. I will say church was far more entertaining this week.

  Theo: That’s just wrong.

  Laney: I’m sure I got points for showing up. Where are you?

  Theo: Grand Lounge.

  Laney: Didn’t you tell me you have a house?

  Theo: Sad isn’t it?

  Troy had decided to invite some of the team to watch Monday Night Football. I wasn’t in the mood to argue. I threatened him if anyone went near my basement.

  Laney: Mind if I join you?

  Theo: I’ll save a seat for you.

  Laney: On my way.

  The Grand Lounge is the common area for TGU students. It’s considered the Rangers’ living room, consisting mostly of lounge chairs and couches you can kick back and nap on. Plugging in my earbuds, I mimic the keys of the song I’m learning on my jeans and get lost. Sometime later, I come out of my daze as a set of well-worn cowboy boots comes into view, slowly bringing me back into the present.

  “Were you sleeping?”

  “Not exactly,” I run a hand through my hair. She takes the seat next to me, her now-familiar scent filling my nose. Her lengthy hair brushes my forearm when she plants herself on the couch next to me.

  “So, are you done studying since I saw you catching flies when I came in?”

  “I was up most of the night, wondering how many times the Lord could be summoned before He made an appearance in the middle of some shameful fornication.”

  She chuckles and ruffles my hair. “Poor baby.”

  “Sad part is, it was the quiet one doing the damage this time.”

  “The quiet one?”

  “Lance. Most of the time, I can’t even tell he lives there. He rarely comes out of his room.”

  “Weirdo?”

  “Who knows. We’ve probably exchanged ten sentences since he moved in.”

  “And the other roommate?”

  “Troy. He’s the opposite.”

  She glances around the room. “I haven’t been here since freshman year when I had to dorm. My roommate was horrible. She kept stealing my clothes. Tamara. She was such a bitch. She dipped into my Vaseline. Do you know how scary that is? Like what did she need it for? I know what I use it for, and it’s not chapped lips.”

  “TMI, Laney.”

  “For who?”

  “For this half of the living room.” I gesture to the heads turning our way.

  “Oh,” she giggles. “Well, I was only too happy to move back home. We did not bond. But I do think bondage is in her future, if you know what I mean.” She waggles her brows and elbows me, and I roll my eyes.

  “Clever.”

  “Such a smart ass. So, you done here?”

  “No,” I glance at my tablet. “I’ve got about an hour left.”

  “Before what?” We’ve never been this close in the light of day, and I’m finding it hard to keep my eyes from roaming every inch of her. Instead, I take her in doses as she turns to survey the room. Perfectly arched dark brows hover over amused brown eyes speckled with green. Her flawless olive skin is a shade darker around the thin spaghetti strap of her dress. Tiny moles dot her shoulders below her slender neck. And then there’s the dip below, a valley where a gold feather necklace rests between mouth-watering cleavage. I gather all this in a sideways glance doing my best to ignore the threatening stir below.

  “Earth to Theeeooo,” she says still waiting on my answer, turning her eyes back to mine.

  “Before I’m done.”

  “Oh, it’s like that?”

  “What can I say?” I hitch a shoulder. “I’m disciplined in my studies.” The thing is with new friendships like this, boundaries must be set, especially by me, the Teddy. Dropping everything for her will send the wrong signal. It will tell her that I am, in fact, at her disposal. I’m not that guy anymore. No matter how good she smells.

  “Fine, I’ll wait.” She pulls a ten-ton bag covered in sunflowers from the floor.

  “Please tell me there are books in there.”

  “What do you think I am, a monster? Course there aren’t any books in here. This bag is Kate Spade.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  She grins, and I’m forced to focus on the quarter-sized birthmark on top of her left hand. “To see you, of course.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “Why yes, you are.”

  “Alright, QT.”

  “Cutie?” She says with a lift to her voice.

  “No, Q-T as in quiet time,” I nod toward the silent students in the room.

  “Oh yeah, okay.”

  I lift my tablet and resume my reading.

  It takes only a minute for her to break the silence. “You’re really going to make me sit here an hour?”

  “Yes,” I say without looking up.

  “Fine.”

  “Glad we’re on the same page.”

  “Such a smart ass.”

  After a few minutes of sighs, I hear the rustling of a notebook and glance over. “Ah, you did bring something to study.”

  “Yes, well kind of, I’m trying to come up with a concept for my media class.”

  “Concept for what?”

  “It’s my grad project. I have to come up with a social presence and attempt to make the brand trend.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “It will come to you.”

  She smiles, and I pretend not to be affected by the pink gloss on her shiny, plump lips. She’s a seco
nd look kind of girl. The first look at her is for simple appreciation for the stunner she is. The second look is a realization of what an idiot you were for not looking longer the first time around.

  I can’t think of Laney this way because she doesn’t want or need me to. I shouldn’t look at Laney this way because it will lead me back to square one.

  And so, I won’t.

  I’ve hung out with plenty of girls over the years I’ve been attracted to. I convinced myself, when Nora dragged me by the balls through razorblades while sprinkling salt over her shoulder, that I would never let myself be friend-zoned by any woman I had real feelings for. If the attraction wasn’t mutual, I had to move on. But Laney is different in the fact she’s been completely upfront. No mixed signals. We met at the same crossroads and that, in and of itself, makes her valuable to me as a friend more than anything else. I push all those self-sabotaging—Laney is hot as hell—thoughts away and get immersed in my reading when I smell the sunshine on her skin and feel the heat of her face next to mine. “So, what are you reading?”

  I jerk my tablet away, just as she takes a closer look and narrows her eyes. “Oh my God!” She jumps from the couch, pointing an accusing finger at me. “You jerk. You do not take your studies seriously! You’re reading a Jack Reacher book!”

  “And now everyone knows it.” I swallow audibly and stand as eyes from every direction turn our way and laughter follows. “I had ten pages left, no big deal, but, hey Laney,” I widen my eyes, “we can go now.” I grip her arm, while I shoulder my bag before escorting her out of the room. “You ass. You’re an ass. A total ass!”

  “Better than being a DICK,” I mutter, trying to hide my grin.

  I got to finish those ten pages, well actually Laney read them to me as I drove. I have to say with her thick twang narrating, it was by far the most interesting ending of a Lee Child book I’ve ever experienced. When she declared favor for favor and insisted we go to ‘Monday Church’, I had no choice but to obey.

  Shaking my head, I stare at her as she douses her taco with more sour cream and a ketchup packet she’d pulled out from her purse.

  I can’t hide my grimace. “That’s not right.”

  “Look,” she says, licking the ketchup/sour cream combo off the side of the taco as I try to hold my gag, “don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

  “Hear me now. I will never try it.”

  She rolls her eyes and mmm’s with exaggeration as she takes a mammoth bite.

  “So why is this Monday church?”

  “Dorito shell tacos, the Lort sent these to me,” she proclaims over a mouth full.

  “The Lort?”

  “Lor-t,” she repeats slowly, as if it will give me some clarification.

  “Ah, got it now,” I spout with pure sarcasm.

  She ignores it. “Of course, you do, because we’re meant to be friends. You get me.” She leans in with a sinister grin. There’s that word again. I make it a point to stop any notice of my unexpected attraction to her then and there.

  “You don’t scare easily, do you, Theo?”

  “No, I don’t scare easily.”

  “Good,” she says, swallowing the last of her taco. I have to admit the woman has eating down to a science. “So, I have an idea for my project.”

  “Yeah?”

  “We make a dedicated page being completely honest and see if it trends.”

  “What do you mean we?”

  “We,” she says, pointing between us, “meaning you and me.”

  I cross my arms. “No.”

  “Already started it while you were reading Jack.”

  “Are you serious?”

  She shrugs. “Yes. It’s all set up. The handle is @livingmyrealestlife. Technically it’s your idea, so I can’t take all the credit. I already texted you the login info.”

  I lean back in my seat. “You are serious.”

  She shrugs. “I’d follow it. It’s worth a shot.”

  “Why we? Why can’t you do this solo?”

  “Because it makes more sense and will attract more followers if it’s done from both a male and female perspective.”

  “Pass. Find another male.”

  “Nope,” she says, tossing her napkin beside her tray. “No need, I’ve found him.”

  “Laney, I’m in the Grand Band on scholarship, I have a code of conduct to follow.”

  “Then we’ll keep it PG…13ish.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I. So, you’ll help me, right?” I open my mouth to speak as she continues. “You really won’t try ketchup and sour cream on a taco? Oh, I forgot to ask what your major is.”

  “Woman,” I say exasperated. “I don’t know which question to answer first or in what order.”

  “All of them,” she mumbles around the ketchup packet she’s tearing with her teeth, just as she unwraps another taco.

  “This is ridiculous,” I spin the wheel and put my left foot on green.

  “It’s honest,” she pants, “we don’t do yoga, but we both do Twister. And this is the perfect backdrop. Devin, you gettin’ this?”

  “Oh, I’m getting it,” she says through a laugh angling the cell phone to take more pictures.

  “It’s not honest, if it’s contrived,” I point out in a huff.

  “I get that, and some of it’s going to have to be a little contrived because it’s a school project and we have to make it interesting,” she grunts, twisting her body as her skirt rises another inch. I move to turn my head, but my dick refuses to let me look away.

  “Tell you what,” she says, spinning the disk. “From now on, we try to keep it as true to name as possible without tarnishing the whole point.”

  “I’m not that interesting,” I say with a groan as her ass comes into view an inch from my face when she plants a booted foot on red.

  “I’m going to need a little more enthusiasm on your part, Houseman. This is an adventure.”

  “I’ve been suckered, no, manipulated into this because I’m a nice guy, so you will get no such thing.”

  “You’re breaking my heart here, buddy, and you aren’t so nice. I see you looking at my ass. Besides, I thought you meant what you said in that yard.” Her breaths are coming fast as we struggle to keep upright.

  “I do believe what I said.”

  “So, let’s do this. Go all in. We can make fun of ourselves and help further my education.”

  “How convenient, for you.”

  “I think you’ve met your human bullshit detector, Ms. Cox,” Devin coos as she watches us struggle to reposition.

  Laney’s face comes into view when her hand lands next to mine, her head bent, her hair blowing in the breeze.

  For fuck’s sake.

  “Come on, Theo. It’s only the world wide web.”

  “I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks.”

  It’s the truth, for the most part. A single and shitty act from the girl I thought was my dream destroyed any pretense I could ever again try to come up with about myself. Trying to be perfect for her had turned me into more of an imposter than I could ever live comfortably with. It’s always hindsight that delivers the biggest bitch slap, even when the hurt has been dealt with. I’ll never stray that far away from myself again. If that means being honest over nice, then that’s what I’ll be.

  Laney prods as we end up completely tangled on the plastic and gives me a pointed look.

  “Prove it.”

  She’s so close that I can practically taste her and it’s making this test even more unbearable.

  “Fine, but there needs to be something in it for me.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’ll need to think about it.”

  “Deal.”

  “Oh my God, that’s it!” Devin bursts into laughter. “This is the best picture I’ve ever taken. I think I’ve got it, Laney.”

  “Great.” I collapse in a heap and wipe the sweat from my brow. Laney rushes toward Devin and throws her hea
d back with a laugh before snatching the phone and bringing it to me.

  Surveying the picture, I have to admit, with the setting of the park and the sunset in the background, it screams heart-hands sunset pic, but it’s the ridiculous angle we’re twisted in that totally debunks any notion of romance. I give a deserving nod. Not bad.

  “Oh, you know damn well, this is hilarious. Hold your grudge, I’ll figure out a way to make it up to you,” she says, thumbing her cellphone at warp speed. “In three, two, one, and @livingmyrealestlife is now live! Hashtag twister ballet, hashtag new best friends, hashtag karate in the basement, hashtag suck it yoga.”

  “Jesus,” I shake my head, biting my smile.

  “This is too cool,” Devin squeaks. “I’m following. Now, are we all done here? ‘Cause Chase is going to kill me. I’m late for our date night.”

  “We’re good. You can go, bridezilla.”

  “Later, hooch,” Devin says, walking toward her monster truck. “Bye, Theo!”

  “See you, Devin,” I mutter, climbing to my feet as Laney gathers the game and stuffs it back into the box. “You don’t think this is a little lame?”

  She scrunches her nose. “I mean, yeah, maybe a little. And it will be at times, but that’s the point, right? To showcase our lameness. Look I’m no social princess, but I’m living proof of Murphy’s law and can try to find humor in any situation, and that’s what people identify with. That’s my angle. I’d be happy if all the comments said, ‘I know, right?’”

  She clutches the boxed Twister to her chest as we walk back to my car.

  “While other people take selfies in bikini thongs on yachts in the Mediterranean sipping thousand-dollar-a-glass champagne, I’ll record a more reject reality for the less fortunate.”

  “Fine, but don’t credit me for this madness.”

  She gives me a knowing grin. “This is going to be fun. You’ll see.”

  On the drive back to campus, I glance over at her.

  “So, Devin is getting married?”

  “Yeah, in November. It feels like we’ve been planning this our whole lives. It’s going to be beautiful. Hey, maybe you’ll save me a headache and be my plus one.”

  “You sure you don’t want to take someone else?”