I didn’t know how long we slept that way. At some point, Jamie got up from the bean bag and went to his own bed. But not before covering me with a blanket and tucking it around me.
Sweet.
Torture.
Chapter 2
Jamie
“Wake up. Come on, Bales, wake up.”
Curled up, asleep on the oversized bean bag chair in my living room, Bailey looked just like the five-year-old she used to be. Her deep red hair lay spread out around her like a fiery halo. I picked up a lock and ran it through my fingers. It was so smooth, softer than anything else I’d ever touched. When we were younger, I remembered being in thrall of her hair. It was gorgeous.
“Bailey!” I whispered, dropping her hair to reach out and shake her shoulder. The pucker between her brows made me grin. Bailey was not a morning person. But I knew her mom would be up any minute with one of the younger kids and while she didn’t mind too much if Bailey stayed over late, she expected her daughter to come home to sleep and not to crash on my floor.
I shook her again.
“Stop it,” she grumbled, burrowing deeper into the bean bag.
My grin grew into full-fledged smile. Bailey was one of the tiniest people I’d ever seen. One might even call her delicate if they didn’t know her, with her heart shaped face and porcelain skin. Truth was Bailey was anything but delicate. As the oldest of five kids, she was freaking tough. People always thought it was the baby that had to be tough in a big family, but from my experience with the Campbell’s, it was the oldest. Bailey shouldered a lot of responsibility in her family and she didn’t take crap from anyone.
“Look, shrimp, your mom’s gonna be up soon and you know she’ll be mad if she finds out you didn’t come home last night.” I’d been trying to avoid having to do it, but the covers had to go. Yanking hard on one corner, I stripped away the fleece blanket I’d covered her with last night.
“You suck.”
“You guys shut up,” Dallin grumbled from the couch, but I ignored him as I watched goosebumps erupt on Bailey’s legs. I felt a little bad but Bailey just tucked them into the sweatshirt I’d given her last night and I knew I was going to have to do something drastic. Good thing she didn’t weigh more than a wet towel.
“That’s it. Just remember you asked for it.” Without waiting for her response, I scooped her up and headed for the door, determined to deposit her on her doorstep.
The grass between her house and mine was wet with dew and the moisture soaked through my socks. I should have remembered my shoes. I should have remembered Bailey’s shoes. She’d just have to get them later, I wasn’t going back.
“Alright, alright. I’m awake. You can put me down.” Her words were muffled against my chest and I knew she didn’t mean them. She wasn’t wearing socks. She’d hate the cold grass on her feet. I was almost to her porch, anyway.
“Okay, Sleeping Beauty,” I said, letting her feet drop to the welcome mat by her front door and laughing to myself because she looked more like that red-headed princess from the movie Brave than the blonde one in Sleeping Beauty.
“Thanks, James,” she mumbled, stumbling into the screen door.
“Careful,” I whispered, shaking my head as I opened the door for her, slowly so it wouldn’t squeak so much. “See you later.” I waited until she was all the way in before closing it.
Back at my own house, I pulled off my wet socks and was on my way back to my room when Dallin’s head appeared over the back of the couch, his dirty blonde hair sticking up in all directions.
“Dude, we missed some serious drama at the party last night.” Dallin held his phone up to his face, his eyes crossing as he focused on the screen.
I skirted around the back of the couch and flopped onto the leg of the L shape he wasn’t already occupying.
“What are you talking about, man,” I asked through a yawn. I was still tired. I wouldn’t have gotten up this early, but I didn’t want Bailey to get in trouble for staying here last night, so I made sure to set an alarm.
“Look,” he replied, shoving his phone in my face.
I hadn’t put my contacts in and my glasses were still laying on my nightstand, so I was forced to hold his phone close to my eyes to read the small print in his Facebook app. I scrolled to the top of the thread.
“Holy shit.” I rolled into a sitting position, bracing my elbows on my knees as I read through the comments on a Facebook post from one of the guys on the football team that had been at the party last night.
“What the hell was Seth thinking?” Dallin rose from the couch to pace in front of it while raking his hands through his hair. “He’s our starting quarterback.”
“Not anymore, man.” I read the most recent comment made by Ethan Russell, the team’s center and co-captain with Seth. “Ethan posted, ‘Seth’s out’.” I held out the phone for him to see.
Dallin stopped mid-stride, reaching for it. He read the comments and breathed a loud sigh. “This is not good, man. A lot of guys are courting schools for scholarships and something like this could tank our season.”
Yikes. I hadn’t even thought about that. Our team wasn’t amazing, but last year we’d won the State Championship and had the number one high school prospect in the state, maybe even the country, as our quarterback. Connor Sanders graduated last year and would be starting for State in their first game next weekend. What that meant for our team was notoriety. Scouts had been prowling our games steadily for the last two seasons. Guys that might not have otherwise caught the attention of Division 1 teams were on the bubble for partial scholarships and more. Even Dallin was looking at being recruited by a Division 2 school not far from here. Scouts weren’t interested in coming out to see teams that weren’t putting up points and winning games.
“How could Seth be so stupid?” Dallin’s head hung almost to his chest.
I knew his was a rhetorical question, so I didn’t answer. Apparently, last night after we left the party, a bunch of guys were drinking too much and got into a fight. This was typical behavior for some of the rowdier farm kids that liked to brawl, but the jocks usually stayed out of it. According to Facebook, Seth made a derogatory comment about Carly Wagstaff. Her brother, Seb, a guy known for solving his problems with his fists, wasn’t too happy about it and a brawl broke out. Someone called the police and Coach Reno. The rest was history. Seth and one of his buddies, an offensive lineman named Colby Sharp, were done for the season for fighting and being under the influence of alcohol and marijuana.
Idiots.
School didn’t start until next week, so Seb and his friends were only in trouble with the law and their parents, but practice started last week for fall sports and football players were held to the school handbook which clearly stated anyone using substances would be suspended from play for a full season of sports. Seth and Colby were screwed and so was the football team. And that wasn’t even considering the consequences for fighting and a trip to the police station.
“Who does that leave at quarterback?” I asked. Seth was Connor’s back up last year and I couldn’t remember who’d played for the Junior Varsity.
“Justin Critchfield. He’s a sophomore and he isn’t even close to ready for varsity.” Dallin dropped onto the couch with a sigh.
“What do you think they’ll do?” I’ve wished many times over the years that I could play football, but none more than right now.
Dallin shrugged. “I should get going. I have lifting in about an hour and I really need a shower.” He sat for a solid minute, staring into space, before picking himself up and stretching his arms high above his head. “I’ll come back by after working out. I’m sure I’ll have some good gossip to share.”
I held my fist out and he knocked his knuckles against mine. “See you later, bro.”
No way I was going back to sleep now. After a long shower, I made my way upstairs. Mom was awake. I could hear the sound of her fingers moving over her computer keyboard. Walking down the hall to her off
ice, I stopped in the extra-wide doorway built to accommodate her wheelchair. Her flyaway blonde hair had been wrangled with a couple of number two pencils at the back of her head. Her hands only paused their feverish typing to push her glasses back up her nose. I waited quietly until she acknowledged me.
“I know you’re there, Jamie.” Her eyes never left the screen. A quiet and haunting tune filled the small space around her desk. She liked to listen to morbid music while plotting murder and mayhem for the characters in her best-selling suspense thrillers.
“You get up early or stay up all night?” Stepping into the room, I sat in the armchair across from her desk that was there just for me since I was the only person who ever visited her office.
“Got up early. Couldn’t sleep.” She reached with one hand for the steaming coffee recently brewed by the coffee maker sitting at the other end of her wraparound desk which also held a microwave and a mini-fridge. She literally never had to leave this room except to use the bathroom.
I knew what that meant. If she couldn’t sleep then the story was clambering to get out, her words, and she’d be at it for days.
“It’s creepy how excited you get about serial killers, Mom.” My face, as well as the rest of my body, cringed.
Her eyes would have rolled if they were capable of leaving her computer screen long enough. “It’s creepy how much you sound just like your dad.”
I had to smile at that. It had been easier recently to talk about him, for both of us, and it felt good to hear the little snort of amusement she made at the end of her statement. Mom wasn’t traditionally funny, it was her dark humor that made her books so popular. I liked it when I didn’t have to read them (insert shudder) to get a taste of it.
“How was the party last night? Last one of the summer, huh?”
It always amazed me how she could carry on a conversation, her fingers never stuttering as they moved across the keyboard.
“It was alright. We left early. Dallin stayed over.” I didn’t mention anything about Bailey. I might not look at Bailey like I looked at other girls, but our parents couldn’t quite understand that.
“Right. Dallin stayed over.” Mom’s eyes darted to the window beside her desk. The one that had a perfect view of Bailey’s front door.
I sighed. No use denying it. Mom didn’t really care, she just liked to razz me. “We fell asleep. Dallin on the couch. Bailey on the bean bag. And I slept in my own bed.” I wouldn’t mention that I’d fallen asleep beside Bailey on the bean bag chair and only moved a couple of hours before I had to wake her up. I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. Bailey and I were just friends. I didn’t even think of her that way.
That would be- weird. Going there with Bailey would be the kiss of death for our friendship. Friendships did not survive relationships. And I couldn’t survive without Bailey’s friendship. Besides, I wasn’t interested in relationships. At. All. And a girl like Bailey? Well, a girl like her would only ever be a relationship kind of girl.
I sat for a moment picking at my fingernails before I noticed something was off. It was the incessant clicking from her typing, it had ceased. I glanced up.
“What?” She never stopped typing.
She had that look on her face, that motherly look that said she knew more than me and no matter what I did or how old I got, I would never know the things she knew.
“Just be careful with her.” Her head tilted toward the window.
I frowned. “What do you mean?” I was always careful with Bailey. Wasn’t I? I’d literally just carried her to her front door to keep her from getting in trouble with her mom. And cold feet.
Mom pierced me with a look, the kind I had to struggle not to squirm under. Plus, she’d stopped typing.
“I know you and Dallin like to pretend Bailey’s not a girl with girly feelings because that keeps things the same as they’ve always been, but Bailey is a girl, James.”
Sheesh. She’d stopped typing and she called me James. I sat up straight in my seat. “I know Bailey’s a girl, Mom.” This conversation had gone from mildly uncomfortable to downright awkward.
“I know you’re aware of the differences in anatomy, Jamie.” My nose scrunched up. I did not want to listen to my mother discuss anatomy in regards to Bailey. Or anyone. Ever.
She pinned me with a glare and pointed the end of her pen in my face. “See? That’s what I’m talking about. She’s not one of the guys.”
Ummm. I wasn’t so sure about that, but I wasn’t going to argue the point when there was a sharp object inches from my nose. Especially when it was being held there by someone who murdered people for a living. Even if they were fictional.
I had no doubt she’d have zero trouble disposing of my body and no one would be the wiser.
I nodded. Agreement seemed the safest option at this point. “Right. Not one of the guys. Got it.”
“You still aren’t listening to me. Bailey is a girl. Not just on the outside, but on the inside, too. And that makes her different from you and Dallin in more ways than you guys want to admit as long as she can still beat you at Madden and toss the football more than five yards.”
Pssht. Bailey could launch a football way more than five yards. Dallin and I would give her endless shit for anything less than fifteen. And the girl was barely five feet tall. Sniff. Made a best friend proud.
“Jamie.”
I snapped to attention, dragging my thoughts away from Bailey’s perfect spiral. Maybe she could replace Seth?
“Yeah?”
“Look, I’m not trying to say anything, really. Just be careful. Try to remember that Bailey has feelings.”
Relief flooded me. “I can do that. I do do that. Mom, Bailey’s been my best friend forever. Even before Dallin. I care about her more than just about anyone. Except you.” Insert trademark charming smile.
Mom rolled her eyes all the way this time before turning them back to her computer, her fingers tapping away again, signaling that this conversation was almost over.
“Anything else happen I should know about?”
“The starting quarterback got benched for the season.” I had no idea why I told her that.
Her fingers stuttered over the keyboard again. “That’s too bad,” she responded, an edge to her voice.
Right.
Slapping my hands down on my thighs, I pushed myself out of my seat. “Shoot me a text if you need anything.”
“Thanks, baby.”
Shaking my head, I stepped out of her room, suddenly feeling like I needed a nap.
Chapter 3
Bailey
“Bay-wee. Wake up.” The words were accompanied by sticky hands patting my cheek.
I tucked my face under my blanket. Giggles next to my ear told me I wouldn’t be staying in bed much longer.
“Me up, Bay-wee.” Little hands tugged at the blanket.
Not quite ready to give in, I lifted the blanket and grabbed my two-and-a-half-year-old brother, Preston, under his arms and hauled him onto my bed. He immediately snuggled into the curve of my body. He laid still for all of three seconds.
It was an awesome three seconds.
“Press, just chill, buddy.” I tried to hold his squirmy little body close for a bit longer, but he wasn’t having it, rolling in front of me like the tornado he was, twisting my blankets until my back was exposed to the cool air of my bedroom.
“I hungwy.” Preston placed one hand on each of my cheeks, forcibly turning my face to meet his. My eyes were still closed. One small hand left my cheek to pry my eye open. I complied rather than get poked.
“Is Mom awake, bud?” My voice sounded tired and scratchy to my own ears. I wondered what time it was- late enough the sun was streaming through my windows. I should have closed the heavy curtains before crawling into my bed early this morning.
“Mommy say get up.”
She was definitely awake. Preston being awake wasn’t always a dead giveaway. Sometimes he came into my room first.
&nbs
p; “Is the baby awake?” Preston wasn’t the youngest. My parents divorced when I was little. Mom remarried when I was five. It took her and my step-dad another three years to start their own little family. Stella just turned ten. Benson was seven. Preston would be three soon and the baby, Delia, was barely a month old.
Preston nodded. “Dewia eating.”
Delia didn’t love to sleep at night. My sweet tempered and nurturing mother had turned into a sleep-deprived zombie with a short temper. I didn’t blame her. I’d inherited my own love of sleeping from her. The woman was barely hanging on by a thread. Which was why I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and threw back the blankets. I could at least make Press some breakfast.
It was only eight-thirty on a Saturday morning and I was dying to crawl back in my bed, but when I saw my mom half-prone on the couch, Delia asleep on her shoulder, I knew I was in for a long day of babysitting.
I poked Mom’s shoulder. “Hey, go back to bed. I’ll keep an eye on Preston.” Stella was still gone. She’d had a sleepover at her friend’s house and when I passed Benson’s room, I noticed him watching Netflix on his tablet. He’d be fine until his stomach started growling.
“Hmm.” Mom’s eyes fluttered a few times before focusing on me. She glanced to Delia sleeping on her shoulder and groaned a little. “Goodness. I hope this little one figures out day and night sooner rather than later.” Delia was still sleeping all day and awake most of the night.
“Want me to take her?” I asked, secretly hoping she wouldn’t take me up on it. I could handle Preston and the baby at the same time, but it wasn’t easy.
Mom shook her head. “No, I’ll take her back in my room. I just need a couple of hours to be human again. Thanks, Bailey. I know this isn’t easy for you.”
“It’s okay. I’ll feed Preston and cat-nap on the couch while he watches cartoons.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Gingerly, she rose from the couch, trying not to rouse the sleeping tyrant on her shoulder. Delia was adorable, but still a stinker. “I heard you coming in this morning, B.”
The Perks of Kissing You (Perks Book 3) Page 2