The Guy in the Middle (The Underdogs 3)

“Out,” Lance says, closing the door on him, his back to me. Seconds pass, and slowly he lowers his head, pressing it into the door and rolling it back and forth before he turns to face me. And then he’s laughing. And though it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, I’m too busy freaking out to fully appreciate it.

“It’s not funny! What if it was a spider?! A cockroach?!”

“You didn’t eat a bug.”

“Then I’m dying. My tongue is fucking black, it’s BLACK! And how would you know if I ate a bug or not? Haven’t you seen those videos?”

He’s hysterical. “What videos?”

“The ones where on average, a human eats such and such amount of bugs a year!”

I squeeze the toothpaste into my hand and massage my gums with it as Lance wraps an arm a

round me, pulling me away from the sink, his chuckle slowing at my back. “Okay, calm down because I’m pretty sure you’re having an anxiety attack.”

“My whole tongue is black! It’s black. I ate a bug! A very big bug! You don’t think it will happen to you and bam! Jesus, if I find a leg in my teeth, I’ll never recover.”

“Harper,” he says through another chuckle. “Your tongue is black because I gave you Pepto tablets before you passed out, which, when mixed with acid, can sometimes turn your tongue black.”

I still my fingers, my hand covered in toothpaste and glance over at him. “What?”

“I gave you two Pepto tablets.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Probably because it was before you took a Rye nap.”

“Right…,” I study my hands and the mess I’ve made at the sink. “Okay, well, that’s not common knowledge. I can’t be held responsible for that reaction.”

“Can I go back to my dinner? Or are you planning on heading to the roof with a bottle of jack and a roman candle?”

I swallow as my cheeks heat. “I apologize for my behavior today.”

He sets me down and shakes his head. “I’ll have Trevor bring you some of the chili.”

My stomach turns. “No, thanks.”

He looks me over. “You need something in your stomach. I’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He eyes my hoodie. And that’s when I look down to see it’s a Grand sweatshirt. “That feels like a million years ago now.”

“Do you ever miss it?”

He darts his gaze to the tile between us. “All the fucking time.” Before I can open my mouth to reply, he opens the door and knocks on the frame. “Get back in bed, I’ll see you in a bit.”

I take a shower and brush my teeth for ten minutes, hoping, praying that the look in his eyes and the conversation was the beginning of an olive branch. I’ve been here nearly a week, and I haven’t made much progress with him at all. It’s when I make it back to my room, I see two hot pockets and a Diet Mountain Dew waiting on my dresser that my hopes fall away. He dropped the food and left like I’m some sort of prisoner. And I have to admit, loving him is starting to feel like a sentence.

Lance

I walk past Harper’s bedroom and see it’s empty. It’s the suitcase in the corner of the room that has my heartrate evening out. The kicker is, I’d be surprised if it wasn’t packed. Half of my problem with her is that it’s always seemed easy for her to leave. The longer she stays, the harder it is to admit to myself she might be serious, but if that’s the case, what’s changed? I reach the kitchen to see my dad sitting in his chair, sipping coffee through a straw, and staring out the window.

“Morning, Dad.”

“I think we’ve got one missing,” he says, eyeing the pasture.