“No shit.” Davis cocks his head. “Something wrong?”
“No. Just tired.”
I gather up the excess into my hand and go throw it away.
“It’s the pandemic fugue. I’m feeling it, too,” Davis says, his voice following me to the sink where the trash can sits tucked inside the cabinet. “After you dropped me off, all I could think of was how I should be on the field breaking all of Carter Franklin’s records. Sixty-five touchdowns in a season. That was my goal and here I am and the only record I’m achieving is how many times I can beat my meat a night.”
“Thanks for that image,” I say, retaking my seat. Davis hands me the milk.
“You’re welcome. For the record, baby oil is better than lotion.”
I can’t keep my laughter in. I laugh so hard that I begin to choke. Davis slaps me on the back hard enough to shake the table. Once I get myself under control, I start eating. Like the Cornflakes, I’m going to need to swallow my guilt. Davis doesn’t need to hear it—not now. He’s got enough on his mind, and if the group is what is keeping him sane, then Chandler and I can keep our mouths shut and our hands to ourselves when he’s around. There will be time enough to tell him later. The important thing is that we get through this with our friendship intact.
“What were you going to say about Chandler?”
“Huh?”
“Earlier, you said something about Chandler, and I cut you off.”
“Ah, it was nothing.” I pat my pocket. “So I was looking for my black card. I went to order something and couldn’t find it. Called Chandler and she said that maybe it fell out when I was here.”
“Maybe. Let’s go look after we’re done here. What were you buying that you needed your black card?”
“A bike. I was thinking we should have a bike.”
“We?”
“Yeah, you and me. You wouldn’t be able to ride one during a season because it’s too dangerous, but now…” I dangle the thought in front of him.
Davis’ eyes light up. “A bike?”
“Yeah.” I can already feel Chandler’s thighs wrapped around mine, her tits pressed against my back, her head on my shoulder. I don’t have good ideas all the time, but this one? This one is inspired.Chapter FourteenChandlerI pull another pie out of the oven and set it on the countertop. That is four pies I’ve made over the last few hours. Now what am I going to do?
“Are you okay, sweetie?” Mom walks into the kitchen, dropping a kiss on my cheek.
“I’m fine,” I try to reassure her.
“I’m your mother. I know when something is bothering you.” She opens the cabinet to look for her travel mug.
“I already made it.” I motion to the table where I put her coffee and lunch that I packed for her. I also made her an egg sandwich for breakfast, which is her favorite. It might be dinner time for the rest of the world but Mom and Dad are just starting their day.
“You’re so good to me sweetheart.” She gives me another kiss on the cheek.
“It’s not a big deal. You know I love cooking.” It also feels nice that I could do something for them. They are both busting their asses. If I can make their lives a little bit easier right now, I am going to. It’s the least I can do.
“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind now?”
“Really, Mom—”
She cuts me off before I can tell her it’s nothing again. “You made four pies. You only make pies when you’re worrying over something.” She pulls on the end of my braided ponytail. “Is it a boy?” I bite my lip, looking down. Mom has always been open about sex and everything in between. So I know that I can talk to her about anything.
“I like someone,” I admit. Using the word like is a giant understatement for what I feel for Berkley, but I’m not ready to admit that out loud. “We've been hanging out.”
“So you and Berkley are finally admitting how you feel.” She gives me a bright smile.
“You know?” My eyes almost pop out of my head. Of course she knows. I know mom radar isn't real but sometimes I second-guess that. She might be busy, but she always seems to keep her finger on the pulse of what’s going on with me.
“We all know.” Dad joins us in the kitchen. He drops a kiss on the top of my head. He’s fully dressed in his EMT uniform and ready to go. Mom is in her regular clothes. She changes when she gets to the hospital.
“You told him?” I give Mom a questioning look.
“I’ve seen Berkley. I didn't need anyone to tell me anything.” I seem to be the only one around here that misread Berkley. Dad grabs his stuff off the table. “He’s a good kid, so we’ve stayed out of it.” Mom nods in agreement. Berkley does not look like a kid. He’s quickly gone from a boy to a man over the last year. “See my girls later.” Dad drops a kiss on Mom before he heads out the door.