Our eyes meet; hers startled and mine wary. I don’t want to get dragged into an argument that I’ve had nothing to do with starting, but it might happen anyway. I’m a Carlton, after all. Guilty by association.
For a moment, we stand face to face, her chest rising and falling and jaw ticking as though she’s close to rupturing a blood vessel or cracking a tooth; she’s so furious. And me? Well, I don’t move or say a word.
Then, as quickly as she appears, she turns and stomps up to the second floor, looking like a petulant child amid the luxury that is my home.
And I’m left with the sinking feeling that this situation will worsen until it erupts like a long-dormant volcano, wiping us all out in the process.
5
TOBIAS
I’m drowning in assignments, and Coach is riding my ass in every training session. I know I’m not bringing my A-game, but it’s hard to focus when I’m getting pulled in a million different directions.
Yes, I love football. I’ve been playing for as long as I can remember. When I feel the ball in my hand and the grass beneath my feet, I’m always filled with a sensation similar to returning home from vacation. There’s a familiarity to the game that is there in the marrow of my bones.
But I’m not just a quarterback. I’m in my junior year at college with all the academic pressure that comes with it. I don’t live in a traditional household with a mom and dad who are around to help and support me. Instead, there’s a housekeeper to handle the cleaning and laundry, Ross to tackle the more physically demanding property maintenance, and my brothers if I ever need help or advice. I know I sound like a dick for complaining when others have it so much worse, but sometimes, when every part of my life is closing in on me, I feel adrift.
Then I literally slap myself in the face and get on with it because there isn’t another option.
My brothers can be great, but they’re busy with their own lives, and as I’m the youngest, I think they see me as needy and childish, even though I’m over six feet and packed with muscle. They seem to forget that I was the youngest when we lost Mom, so I’ve been handling my own shit for technically a greater percentage of my life.
As if that wasn’t enough, a girl has burst into our lives with her foul temper and vicious mouth and her banging body and eyes that burn like fire. She’s started a war in my home that is spilling into everything because a bad atmosphere doesn’t remain contained. It leaches under doors and over furniture. It finds its way into every space.
So, instead of writing a paper, I ended up partying until the small hours. Instead of being physically and mentally prepared for training, I am tired and hungover and the focus of all of Coach’s wrath and frustration. My legs ache from the number of extra laps he made me do. And he’s pulling in the reserve QB for the next game because he doesn’t believe I deserve my place on the team right now.
He’s probably right.
I curse under my breath and rub the back of my neck as I contemplate how to approach the assignment I’m currently hunched over.
Just as I feel like I have a strategy straight in my head, there’s a knock at the door.
“Tobe. You in there?”
It’s Danny, and before he even says anything, I know he’s bringing trouble with him.
I love my brother, but sometimes he doesn’t know when to stop. This situation with Cora has him gritting his teeth like a starving dog with a juicy bone.
“I’m here,” I say, “Come in.”
The doorknob twists, and Danny appears, lit up from behind by the huge crystal chandelier in the hallway. His ridiculously handsome face is etched with a mix of excitement and amusement, and behind him is a girl I think I recognize. She steps forward, and I squint, racking my brain for a name.
Thalia. Talina. Tillie. What is it?
“You remember Tonie,” Danny says, tugging her forward.
“Of course,” I say, wincing at the lie, and then I remember like a wave crashing over rocks. Tonie was the first girl I shared with Danny. She’s the same age as my brother. They were at college together. I was only sixteen, and the whole experience blew my mind.
It says something about my sex life since that something so pivotal has been pushed to the recesses of my memory.
“She’s here for a do-over.”
Tonie smiles as a flush creeps up her chest, stark against the bright white of the tank she’s wearing.
“I’m studying,” I say. “This paper is due tomorrow.”
“You can spare an hour,” Danny says, and there’s no room for disagreement in his tone.