by Hughes, Maya
“Oh, a guitar. I didn’t know you played.” Marisa hopped down from the last step.
Keyton ducked his head. “I don’t.”
“What’s up with the guitar if you don’t play?” LJ jumped in with the question before Marisa could get it in.
Keyton shifted the case and held onto it with both hands. “I—I’m hanging onto it for a friend.”
Marisa laughed. “That’s so sweet of you. Nice and caring to do something for a friend. Storing something like that in your room when it takes up a lot of space. That’s a big deal, not something small like showing someone how to make ramen noodles or French toast.”
And just like that the conversation had nothing to do with Keyton. He took the opening to dart upstairs.
“Ris, we had to throw out that pot the last time you attempted to make pasta.”
I shuddered. The burnt smell had lingered in the house for a week.
“That’s why I need you to show me. We can make up a battle plan.”
“I’d need some armor, that’s for sure,” LJ grumbled.
I grabbed a twizzler from my stash on the counter. Food always comforted me. If I could fill my stomach, then everything would be okay. That’s what happened when you didn’t grow up with much of it.
But I had my chance. This would be my year, but there was still that faint nails-on-a-chalkboard fear that things wouldn’t pan out the way I dared to hope they would.
TLG, my senior year season as a Fulton U Trojan, the draft, and a plan I’d set in motion that could bring it all crashing down with one blown out knee. One bad grade. One fuck up.
There was a lot on the line this year. I took a bite out of the licorice and followed LJ and Marisa into the living room.
Keyton came back down, sans guitar, looking a lot less like he wanted to bolt at any second. “Anyone want a drink? I’ll get drinks.”
“We should upgrade the TV for this season. Reece’s first game is in a week.”
“I’m always up for a bigger TV.” LJ sat on the couch beside Marisa.
“Do you have ‘upgrade the TV’ money?” Marisa crossed her arms over her chest.
“Gee, thanks for asking, Mom.”
“Can you two cut down on the foreplay for five minutes?” I took another bite of my strawberry-flavored snack and wedged myself between them like a parent separating their two bickering kids. Only these two weren’t siblings or children and they wanted to bang. They hadn’t come to terms with that yet, but it was only a matter of time.
Both their heads turned and their double glare made me grin even harder and pick up the game controller off the coffee table. “I’ll take a beer and two glasses of shut the hell up for these two.”
Keyton disappeared into the kitchen with our requests and came back with three beers, and a Shirley Temple complete with maraschino cherries for Marisa.
“What college student has a coffee table? Shouldn’t this be a couple milk crates with some plywood balanced on top?” Marisa took the drink from his hand. “I’d have sworn you were a senior last year. You’re the only adult in the house.”
“I had an off-campus apartment before. I’ve been lugging things around for a while.” He slid coasters across the table for us to set our beers on.
“If everyone pitched in, it wouldn’t be so bad.” I hadn’t done my textbook buy back from last year. It would come to a whole forty bucks if I was lucky.
“Not all of us will be bringing in pro football paychecks in less than a year, people.” Marisa waved her hands like none of us had noticed she was there.
“Not all of us is right,” LJ mumbled beside me, picking at the label of his beer.
Marisa sighed. “I can put in thirty-five cents and a handwritten back massage coupon.”
“No need to break the bank, Ris. I’m sure Reece will be touched you’re digging deep for him. And if Marisa wants to kill our joy and support for the former Brothel resident by denying the TV purchase, Nix said we can watch any of the games at his place with a free food bonus.”
My already full stomach rumbled thinking about the saucy pasta dishes he used to make when he lived here. “Do you think he regrets not going pro?” He’d been better than all of us—hell, probably all of us combined—and had walked away from the game just before the draft last year.
“Nah, he’s got Elle and the restaurant. He’s thinking about getting surgery on his shoulder to help with the pain now that he knows he’s not going to be getting knocked around on the field again.” LJ took a long drink from his beer.
Going pro was my future. I’d do whatever I needed to make that happen. It was a short career at best, but I’d invest my money wisely and never have to worry about ending up on the streets again. That looming fear lingered in the back of my mind. Gnawing hunger that made it hard to think and clothes with non-manufactured holes in them. That I’d end up back in some shelter or wake up and find this was all the dream of a thirteen-year-old kid living in a group home, sleeping on top of his meager possessions to keep the other kids from stealing them.
I didn’t need sneaker deals or a car dealership. I’d take that money and finally have a home. Find someone to share it with. Make a family. A huge one with kids who never had to worry about being kicked out. I’d do it right, at least as right as I could figure out with no clue how a real family worked.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I tugged it out and the screen lit up.
ALEXIS: Berk, I need you.
My muscles tensed in that old fight or flight response programmed in me from years of being in the system. I needed to find her and save her from whatever situation had her sending me a message. It was almost always, ‘there’s a raging inferno of madness around me, please help me put it out.’
LJ tilted his head when he spotted the name blazed across the screen, and made a sharp sound of disapproval. “Don’t.”
“Alexis needs me.” I pressed my lips together, shaking my head, and jumped up from the couch. Taking the stairs two at a time, I ducked into my room and grabbed my keys.
“What’s the deal with Alexis?” Keyton asked as I hit the top of the stairs.
I could feel LJ’s eye roll from downstairs practically shift the foundation of the house. “Long story.”
Hustling down the steps, I didn’t look at them. At least Nix and Reece weren’t here to add to the pain in the ass levels. “See you guys later.”
“Do not bring her back here.” LJ stood behind me like he was standing sentry over the house.
I slammed the door behind me. They didn’t understand. Couldn’t even begin to understand what it was like to be the only person someone could count on.
4
Jules
“He was there when Laura showed up. And he was like, ‘yeah, sure I’ll go.’” I put on my best superhero swooping in and saving the day voice.
“I’d have loved to have seen her face.” Elle laughed and scribbled something down on her tablet, wiggling her painted pink toenails.
Elle had moved into an apartment over the summer, leaving me back at the house all on my own. It was so quiet without her and our ghost roommate, Zoe. Any time she’d popped into our place it was from a changing of the boyfriend guard. It only lasted a few days at most before the next guy on deck swooped in. He’d show up on our porch and she’d bounce out of the house again with her bags packed.
Most people would be happy to have a house all to themselves. A three bedroom by myself didn’t exactly scream wild and crazy senior year, but if felt weird looking for a new roommate, and Zoe’s checks still cleared, even after I emailed her about the rent hike since we’d only be splitting it two ways.
Pictures were hung up all over the walls of Elle and Nix’s apartment, which had been freshly painted a light gray. Great shots of me and Elle and Nix with the rest of the guys from The Brothel, including Berk. Nix’s grandfather owned the restaurant downstairs and had been using the apartment for storage until the guys had fixed it up.
It w
as cozy and I’d never seen Elle happier. It probably helped living in a place where you weren’t afraid part of the ceiling might cave in on you at any minute and there was a hunky boyfriend to snuggle up to and cook delicious food all the time.
I snorted. “I wish I’d had a camera, but I’m sure my face was just as shocked.”
“It shouldn’t have been. Who wouldn’t want to be tucked away in some country estate with you all weekend?” She waggled her eyebrows.
“This weekend is not even a little bit like that.”
“Maybe it’ll be the perfect time to tell him about how well you two actually know each other.” She kept her gaze trained on her screen.
“No, absolutely not.”
She set the tablet down beside her. “He deserves to know you’re The Letter Girl. And you two are friends now. Tell him. He’ll be so happy.”
“More like crushingly disappointed.”
She grabbed onto both of my shoulders and stared into my eyes. “Jules, you’ve got to stop. No one would ever be disappointed in having a sexpot, pole-dancing baker as their secret sex pen pal.”
“Have you seen the girls at the parties at The Brothel and the ones at the FU games?”
“Do you remember me dating the all-star quarterback who was a sure lock for the first round draft pick and had just won the national championship?”
I tapped my finger against my chin. “Doesn’t ring any bells, sorry.”
A pastel blue pillow whacked into the side of my face. “Pain in the butt.”
“Maybe you knocked something loose, it’s coming back to me now. Regardless, it’s different… You’re objectively gorgeous.”
“He was so over that scene by the time I arrived. It’s not about looks. Do you think I’m with him for his glorious ass, sinewy arms with veins that pop out a little while he’s cooking, and abs made for washing laundry?” She got a faraway look in her eyes and bit her bottom lip.
“You’re not helping.” I returned the pillow straight to her head.
The door to Elle’s apartment opened, keys jingled.
“Honey, I’m home.” Nix walked in with a huge smile on his face and his arms loaded with containers. Garlic, butter, and cheese smells combined and my stomach made an attempt to climb out of my mouth to wolf down the contents.
Leaping from the couch, Elle clapped her hands together. “You’re a saint. I’m so hungry.”
He kissed her, trapping her between him and the counter and setting the food he had in each hand down without even looking. “I told you to come down an hour ago.” His fingers trailed over her cheek.
“I lost track of time. Jules was here and we’re working with August Niles for five events in the next four months. I’m three seconds away from throat-punching him. He’s been through eight assistants in nine months. I’m working with his new one now and she’s sweet. I hope he doesn’t chew her up and spit her out. Everything has to be perfect or he’ll probably incinerate me with his dragon fire.”
“If someone’s giving you trouble, tell me and I’ll deal with it.” His face was a mask of seriousness. And he’d kick whoever’s ass he needed to when it came to Elle.
After everything that had kept them apart—mainly Elle’s stubbornness—they were living their fairy tale in a two bedroom apartment above Nix’s grandfather’s restaurant, Tavola. My happiness for her was absolute, but tinged with the sadness that I’d probably never experience it. The closest I’d come was thirty dirty notes to a guy who’d pushed me so far into the friend zone I could smell the freshly mown grass.
“Oh no.” She ducked out from under his arm. “You’re not getting involved.”
“Help me out here, Jules.” Nix looked to me with his talk some sense into her look.
I jumped a little. His focus had been so completely on Elle, I hadn’t realized he knew I was there.
“I’m siding with Elle here on the argument of whether or not to beat up some guy she works with. Sorry, Nix.”
He shook his head and unboxed our food. “Did Elle tell you she gave your cookies and brownies to Avery Cunning from Bread & Butter?”
I nearly tripped over the coffee table and braced my hands on the smooth table top. “You what?” It was a screech to end all screeches. Some of the newly dried paint peeled off the walls.
Nix winced and stuck his finger in his ear.
“I can’t believe I forgot.” Elle smacked her hand to her forehead. “I was so distracted by your other news. It slipped my mind.”
“What news?” Nix looked between us.
She waved him off. “Nix has been looking at new dessert providers since the pastry chef left and they’re focusing more on the savory dishes. And Avery’s name shot to the top of the list, since you’ve turned down my offers to run your own little dessert factory out of our old place. They’ve been looking to branch out with collaborations and trying new things. And everything that comes out of there makes me want to die so it’s the last thing I’ve ever tasted.”
I sputtered. “I freaking know.” Covering my face with my hands, I sank onto the couch. “Did you actually give her something I made?” It was like showing up to a master art class with your paint by numbers coloring book.
“It was the salted caramel you’ve been making a lot of lately, the peanut butter chunk brownies, and the toffee espresso cookies. I gave her the container you brought over two weeks ago. Letting them go was probably the third hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
Throwing my arm over the back of the couch, I stared at her as she described the interaction like it was no big deal that Avery Freaking Cunning, owner of one of the best bakeries in the city, had my cookies in her possession.
“Well, not all of the cookies.” Nix bumped her shoulder.
“I only stole a few out of there. I didn’t hear any complaints when you wolfed down all but a half of one I rescued from that non-stop chewing machine you call a mouth.”
He ducked his head and pretended he hadn’t heard that last little bit.
“She probably threw them out the second she had the chance.” I dropped my head against the back of the couch and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to breathe through the teacup terrier racing around my stomach.
“Not even close.” Elle leaned against the couch beside my head. “She took a bite and her eyes fluttered closed and she even moaned a little.”
My head popped up. “Shut up!” I shoved at her shoulder and she nearly fell back over the couch.
“Yes, really. Do I ever joke when it comes to your food? Would you stop it! Everyone loves everything you make.” She locked onto my gaze. “Everyone. But I didn’t want to tell you anything until I knew for sure.”
“Knew for sure what?”
“I mentioned them branching out and toying with the idea of collaborations, well, she was talking about this new thing she’s thinking about. And she asked you to come in for an interview.”
I shot straight up. “Interview?”
“Sort of. She knows you’re still in school and have classes and stuff, so it’s not like working there full time or anything, but she was thinking you might be interested in an internship of sorts.”
Containing the giddiness at working alongside Avery Cunning in the kitchen wasn’t happening in the slightest. I bounced on the couch, rocking the whole thing, but I didn’t care. “I’ll clean the ovens if that’s what she wants.” Bread & Butter had been featured in every city magazine over the past couple years. If I worked with her, learned from her, I’d have an in with most bakeries and restaurants in the city. I didn’t have a formal culinary education, so I’d been trying to figure out how to break into the business with my Philosophy degree.
“Perfect. Here’s her number.” Elle scrounged around in her purse and pulled out a business card.
“You’ve had her number all this time and you’ve been holding out on me?” I snatched the paper from her hand, clutching it to my chest like a goblin with some newly-discovered gold coins. I kept myself from
whispering ‘precious,’ but only just.
“Not like you’d have done anything other than stare at it, which is why I gave her yours, so if she calls, please pick up.” She took a plate from Nix and handed it over to me.
I waved it off. Eating wasn’t happening until Avery Cunning spoke those magic words to me. I clutched the pale pink rectangle of paper against my chest even harder. Avery’s personal number was scribbled across the back.
I left Nix and Elle to do the thing couples do when they’re completely in love—make out. The third not-so-stealthy kiss between those two was my cue to go.
Once off the bus, triple-checking that my ringer was on and at full volume, I held on to my phone, afraid it would get lost in my bag and I’d miss the call. The call.
Avery was calling tomorrow. I did a little dance and my steps quickened.
I stopped at the bottom of the porch steps. The lights were on across the street in Berk’s room. I looked up at his window and had to wrestle the nearly overpowering urge to run up there and tell him my good news. Or head back inside and write him a note the way I used to.
There was a hole in my life where our letters used to live, but after baking a cake for the mysterious Alexis last year, I’d had to cut myself off. And I didn’t have the balls to ask him who she was, but who, especially a college football player, ordered a cake for someone they didn’t care about. Not like I’d have had a right to pry. The Letter Girl would’ve deserved an explanation, but I was just his neighbor across the street. That would’ve made me come off like the weirdo girl who was way too into him.
Obviously he cared about Alexis, even the other guys knew about her, although they didn’t really seem to have high opinions of her, and I hadn’t been able to glean any specifics.
The thrown hands and glares when he’d mentioned her one day told me whoever she was, she was bad news—and she was here to stay. And I didn’t need to put my heart on the line up against another girl. I wasn’t exactly the girl guys fought over. I was the one they settled on dancing with when my much prettier sister or friend was taken. The consolation prize. But I couldn’t be that with him. I’d rather stand on the sidelines than jump into the game and get pulverized.