The Change Up

by Quinn, Meghan

  “Don’t apologize for having a kind heart, Kinsley. It’s one of the things I like most about you.”

  I give him a soft smile before saying, “These animals lost their best friends and then they’re put in these cold, concrete-lined shelters with a whole bunch of other animals they’ve never met before. It’s overwhelming and scary. Finding Homes is all about making sure those animals don’t have to face extra trauma.”

  “It’s perfect for you,” Maddox says, his eyes trained on me. “Absolutely perfect.”

  “Thank you. I hope I can make an impact.” I push my hair behind my ear, feeling a little nervous from the intensity in Maddox’s expression, but then again, I haven’t seen him in a while. He’s always been one to give his undivided attention during a conversation, which is not something you see very often because of today’s technology.

  “I know you will,” he says and then sighs. “I hate to cut this short, Kinny, but I have to get to bed. Early call in tomorrow.”

  “I’m tired too. That bus trip was brutal.”

  “Wait.” He pauses before getting up from the couch. “You took a bus down here?”

  “A solar-powered bus. Isn’t that neat?”

  Not even acknowledging my earth friendly travel, he says, “You brought Clyde on a bus?”

  “Yup. I had to buy an extra ticket for one of my other bags, but it was well worth it.”

  He blinks a few times and then shakes his head. “Kinsley, I could have flown you down here.”

  “Pfft, no.” I wave my hand at him. “The bus was nice. I trolled Instagram and listened to one of my favorite podcasts, quite relaxing actually.”

  Sighing, he stands and lends a hand out to me. I take it, and he lifts me up from the couch right before moving to a closet in his hallway. He snags some blankets and sheets for me and a pillow as well. “Want me to help you make the bed?”

  “I got it.” I take the linens over to the cot where I set them down and then look at my two suitcases taking up the entryway. Maddox might make a lot of money, but he doesn’t flaunt it. He lives in a modest one-bedroom apartment—in a nice part of town—yet not too much space to ignore we both live here. When he suggested I move into it, I really was surprised.

  Wincing a little, I say, “Are you sure about this, me staying here?”

  “Positive.” He winks and grabs one of the suitcases to wheel it down to his bedroom. “I cleared out a small part of my closet for you and you can use one of the corners of my bedroom to house the rest of your stuff. I thought you could use the half bath for getting ready and brushing your teeth and all of that, so we’re not in each other’s way, but you can use my bathroom to shower obviously.”

  “That works. Whatever you want. I don’t want to step on your toes. I want to make it so you don’t even notice that I’m here.”

  “Not notice you’re here?” He looks me up and down. “That will be pretty much impossible, babe.” He nods toward his room. “Come on, let me show you where to put your stuff.”

  * * *

  “Good morning,” Maddox says from what I’m assuming is the kitchen. I groan and pull my blanket over my head. “Still not a morning person?”

  “Mornings can go to hell,” I mumble into my plush pillow, my back aching and my toes freezing.

  “Want some coffee?”

  “Put it in an IV and hook it up to me.” I sit up, my hair falls over my face as I look around, the bright sun shining in through Maddox’s floor-to-ceiling windows. “Where are your curtains?”

  “Don’t have any. Don’t sleep in the living room.”

  “Mother of God, it’s like waking up on the sun.”

  Maddox sits on the coffee table across from me and hands me a cup of coffee before ruffling my hair to the side so it’s out of my eyes.

  “There you are,” he says softly. When I look up at him, I catch him grinning.

  “Why are you smiling? Are you taking pleasure in my hatred for the mornings?”

  “No,” he says, his voice a little scratchy. “Just waiting for you to realize your ass is on the ground because Clyde has fallen apart again.”

  “What?” I hold out my coffee and look around, realizing just that. I’m practically on the floor, being swallowed whole by Clyde. There are no blankets on my lower half, which would explain the cold feet. “Would you look at that.” I look around me again and then sip my coffee. “Looks like I need to double up on the duct tape.”

  “Or, you can use the air mattress I got you.”

  “When I have a perfectly good bed right here? No way. I’m good.” I wave him off, but don’t get up, instead just drink my coffee while my body is threaded through the middle of my cot.

  “Then why aren’t you getting up?”

  I take another long sip and then hold the cup between my two hands. Leveling with Maddox I say, “If you would really like to know, I don’t want you to watch me struggle to get up because frankly, I’m not even sure if my pants are still on my body. I’d like to remove my body from the jaws of Clyde with what little dignity I have left.”

  “That’s fair.” He chuckles and stands from the table. Already dressed and showered, Maddox towers over me, his presence imposing in his black jeans and black shirt. He scratches the side of his jaw and asks, “Since you don’t have a car, want me to leave my car with you? I can take my motorcycle to the stadium.”

  “You mean the gas guzzler?” She shakes her head. “No, thank you. I’ll walk and use public transport if need be. Lucky for me, the new job is only a few blocks away.”

  “What’s a few blocks?”

  “Fifteen. It’ll be a nice brisk walk in the mornings.”

  “Good luck with that in the winter.” He walks over to the kitchen where he takes care of his mug. “Are you sure you don’t want to take my car around anywhere?”

  “Positive,” I say from the ground, feeling like Tom Hanks in The Money Pit, stuck in the rug of his floor. “But I will say, it didn’t go unnoticed that you trust me with your baby.”

  “Only because you drive like a grandma.” He puts his phone and wallet in his back pockets and snags his keys from the entryway console and then walks toward me. “I’m sorry I can’t take the day off and give you a tour of Chicago.”

  “Don’t even think about it. You continue on with your life. I’m just a fly on the wall here.”

  He studies me for a second and then bends at the waist. He places a gentle kiss on the top of my head and when he pulls away, he pushes my hair behind my ear. “If you need anything, text. Catch you later, Kinny.”

  “Bye, Maddox.”

  Chapter Five

  MADDOX

  What the hell is that smell?

  I barely step off the elevator of my apartment building when I’m hit with a wave of . . . what is that even? Is that . . . body odor?

  I look toward apartment 10B where an older couple live and worry they might be decomposing in there . . . then take a few steps closer to my apartment. That’s when I realize, it’s not the geriatrics down the hall, it’s my place.

  Oh hell . . .

  Fly on the wall?

  I unlock the door to my apartment and open it only to be smacked in the nose with a wave of—

  Holy.

  Fuck.

  I’m tempted to cover my nose, but I know it will only insult Kinsley. It doesn’t stop me from bolting straight to a window and opening it, because fuck, that smells bad.

  “Oh you’re home,” Kinsley says from the kitchen. She’s wearing an apron with the phrase, “Powered by Avocado” embroidered in the middle, her naturally wavy hair is a mess, sticking out in every direction, and she has flour all over her face. What the hell has she been making?

  And I hope to God she doesn’t ask me to eat it.

  “Just in time too. I just took out the Brussel sprouts. The tempeh cakes are cooling and boy oh boy, did I make a chocolate cake that’s going to blow the tats right off your body.”

  Tempeh? Brussel sprouts?
Ehhh, I’ll pass. The cake though, that I don’t mind eating because even though Kinsley is a vegan, she’s mastered the art of plant-based baking so well that no one would know the difference. Tempeh cakes though? She’s told me all about how you can’t tell the difference between tempeh and crab. Hundred bucks says I can tell the difference.

  Trying to spare her feelings, I pat my stomach and say, “Already had dinner with the guys at the stadium. We grabbed something in the cafeteria and went over tomorrow’s game plan.”

  “Oh, that’s right, you’re pitching.” She finishes plating two plates and brings them to the table. Uh, did she not hear me? “Do you think I could go to the game? I don’t need fancy seats, but it would be cool to see you pitch, even if it’s in the nosebleeds.”

  My annoyance softens. She’s been a huge supporter of my career, even when we were younger. She stood in as a batter, fully padded with pillows secured by her dad’s belts and a motorcycle helmet on her head. Made sure I stuck with practicing, even when I was tired. She was my cheerleader, my personal fan all throughout minor leagues, and when I was called up to the majors to pitch, she was in the stands, watching me. She’s attended almost every monumental moment in my life, and I know I wouldn’t be where I am today without her support. In fact, Lincoln was almost right when he measured Jason and Cory’s game success against love, but he was also wrong. I don’t need love or a relationship with some other girl. I have Kinsley. She’s my person. I doubt he’d understand that, given he hasn’t got someone like her.

  “I can get you box seats and passes to meet me outside of the locker room when we’re done.”

  Her eyes pop up to mine in surprise. “Really? That won’t be too much trouble?”

  “Not even a little.” I take a seat at the table, even though I want nothing to do with what’s on the plate, but not wanting to be rude either. If it were anyone else, I’d tell them to fuck off, I’m not eating their vegan shit. I couldn’t ever deny Kinsley the pleasure of torturing me.

  She must see me eyeing the “crab cake” because she pokes me with her foot under the table. “Just try it. If you don’t like it, it’s okay. But at least try it, and if you’re going to eat any of my chocolate cake, you have to at least eat four Brussel sprouts. Veggies are important for a growing boy like yourself.”

  “How did I know you were going to say that?” I pick up my fork and make the mistake at glancing at the kitchen before stabbing one of the sprouts.

  Mother of God, what the hell happened in there?

  A lot of the guys on the team have a maid service come in and clean their apartments because they’re either lazy fucks or don’t have time to do it themselves, but not me. Like I said, my privacy is very important to me, so I do my own cleaning, and I take great pride in keeping my apartment pristine. I’m a bit of a neat freak, I like everything in its correct spot, I don’t like clutter, and I never go to bed without the apartment being spotless.

  So to look over to the kitchen and see such a giant mess, it’s . . . fuck is it painful.

  And we’re not just talking about a small mess. There’s flour on the floor, on the sleek black cabinets, on the . . . fridge? Was she just tossing it around like confetti? There are bowls piled up on top of bowls in the sink, multiple pans scattered over the counters and . . . is that bottle of olive oil tipped over?

  Trying not to freak out about the sticky paste flour and olive oil could create, I calmly ask, “Is that olive oil bottle empty?”

  “Huh?” Kinsley looks up from her plate, her mouthful of tempeh cake. Her eyes zero in and then she wipes her mouth with a cloth napkin. Where the hell did those come from? “Oh, maybe?”

  Maybe?

  MAYBE?

  She stands from the table and walks over to the bottle where she chuckles and says, “It was. Dripped down the front of cupboards.” My ass hole literally clenches in horror. She pulls the drawer open. “Don’t worry, it didn’t get in the drawer. Nothing a little vinegar solution won’t fix.”

  Breathe.

  Breathe.

  It will be okay.

  Taking a deep breath, I say, “I uh, can help you clean it up after we finish eating.”

  She waves her hand at me. “I made the mess, I’ll clean it. Plus, I saw those nasty chemicals you use on your counters and took it upon myself to make some natural cleaning products that won’t clog the air in the apartment with quaternary ammonium compounds. I safely disposed of the chemicals, cleaned then recycled the bottles, which, did you know you don’t have a recycling bin in your apartment? How on earth do you recycle things? Or compost?” She chuckles as if I’m just a silly guy. “I made a recycling center out on the balcony. You had plenty of room and the overhang will protect our bins. I’ll go over them later so you know how to recycle properly.”

  I have yet to bite into one sprout. I hold my fork still, staring at her. Compost? Don’t those things smell? And recycling bins? Shouldn’t there just be one? How many do we need?

  “You okay?” she asks, completely oblivious.

  Here’s the thing: Kinsley has the most beautiful heart out of anyone I know. She has the best of intentions with her actions and yeah, she might err on the side of completely and utterly granola, but her reasoning is solid for everything she does.

  Saving the earth and animals is what gives her life, what breathes air into her lungs, and even though there might be difference of opinion between us with certain things, I’m not about to get angry about her trying to make things “better” in my apartment.

  So instead of getting angry, I take another deep breath, relax my compulsive self, and say, “Yeah, just . . . wow, you got a lot done today.”

  “After I did my assessment of your apartment, it felt like clockwork after that.”

  “Assessment?” I ask, popping a Brussel sprout in my mouth, ready to chew quickly and swallow. Despite the rancid smell, they taste really good. How does that work?

  “Yeah, went through all your drawers—”

  “Uh, excuse me?”

  She chuckles and says, “Don’t worry, Maddie, I didn’t sniff your underwear or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  That’s NOT what I’m worried about.

  “What exactly did you look through?”

  “I didn’t snoop. I just checked out the kind of products you’re using so I could figure out what I needed to get for the apartment. Why so nervous? Are you hiding something?”

  “No,” I answer, clearing my throat. “Just . . . curious.”

  She smiles at me while chewing and when she swallows, she says, “You know, they make eco-friendly condoms, ultra-thin for everyone’s pleasure.”

  I nearly snort my sprout out of my nose.

  Kinsley laughs and pats my back. “Easy there, Maddie.”

  I wipe my nose and take a few sips of water before. “Did you look in my medicine cabinet?”

  “Of course. I wanted to make sure you weren’t on any prescriptions drugs you weren’t telling me about. To my surprise, I was met with a rather large collection of condoms. And the size labeled on the box.” She shakes her head in surprise. “Congratulations. Your big-boobed brunettes are lucky ladies.”

  “Kin—”

  “I know, I know, maybe I went a little far. I get it. I did look up the eco-friendly condoms online though to see if I should get you some to test out, but they were one size fits all, which honestly, makes me a little nervous, given what size I now know you wear. How can a condom be one size fits all? So I held off on the purchase until I could test your feelings on the subject.” She props her chin on the palm of her hand and asks, “What are your feelings?”

  “On the condoms?”

  “Yeah.” She blinks, her large, dark lashes fluttering shut for a second.

  “Um.” I scratch the back of my neck. “How about you leave my condoms alone?”

  “I thought you’d say that. And I get it, penis things are very sensitive to a guy. But I will put this out there . . .”
She pauses for dramatic effect. “If you did feel confident in your penis fitting in the eco-friendly one size fits all condoms, imagine the world-changing sex you could have.” She wiggles her eyebrows and fuck . . .

  She makes me laugh, hard.

  I press my fingers to my brow as I stare down at my plate. “You realize how insane you are, right?”

  “Oh yeah, bordering lunacy, I get it.” She playfully pokes me with her fork in the forearm. “But admit it, you could never get rid of me.”

  I look her in the eyes, watching how they light up with humor, how the green around her pupils is darker than the outer ring. In a more serious tone, I say, “Never, babe. I could never get rid of you.”

  * * *

  “Great game,” Cory says, offering me a fist bump before he heads out the door of the locker room.

  “Thanks, man.”

  Before Cory had Natalie, he was never the first to leave. He’d hang around, head bent in the locker room, studying his hands, never really saying anything. But now that he has a girl waiting for him outside these walls, he’s in and out of the shower and ready to get back to her arms.

  “It was a pretty awesome game,” Lincoln says next to me, whipping his towel off so his bare ass is right next to my face.

  “Jesus Christ, man.” I turn away and he laughs, not giving one single fuck about being naked and inches from my head. “Can you not do that shit? My cheek almost touched your . . . cheek.”

  “That would bring a new meaning to the term moon-landing.”

  “Moon-landing?” I ask, instantly regretting the question.

  “Oh dude, come on, don’t you remember that rookie? Oh fuck, what was his name?” Linc, rubs his temples, thankfully wearing a pair of boxer briefs now. “Darren, that’s it. Darren. He was a utility player. He bent the same time I did and our bare asses kissed each other. I swear, I’ve never seen someone bolt upright as fast as he did. Guarantee ass pucker and ball shriveling on his end as he profusely apologized. He was covering his junk and backing away when I just held out my fist looking for a bump. When he confusingly bumped my fist, I congratulated him on his first moon-landing. He was traded a few weeks later. Pretty sure I freaked him the fuck out.”