The Not - Outcast

Sasha and Chad had had a night, and that’s how he ran into me for the first time at Silvard. He knew I was there. I knew he was there, but we’d successfully avoided each other up until then. I came into their lives for a brief stint before going away again, but his mom and my dad had been married during that time. They had still been married when the college plans were put in motion, meaning that Deek wanted me to get to know my stepbrother. That’d been the entire reason I went to Silvard.

Funny how everything turned out, and not in a good way.

Deek and Natalie divorced that first year we were at college.

Cut got drafted the next year. He left, and Chad followed him.

I was the only one who stayed at Silvard, but it worked in my favor.

I hadn’t seen Chad since that day in the dorm.

“I’m not ready.” I was talking about talking to Cut.

It was weak. I knew it, and so not like my usual awesome badassness confidence, but he had the power to shatter me. A girl like me, we took that seriously. He could send me right back to who I’d been when I had an entire delusional relationship with him in my head.

I felt safer gawking from a distance than being live and in person in his presence.

“Okay. Well, I have something to distract you with.”

I looked over.

She cringed, before pulling back to the road. “I slept with your stepbrother last night.”

“No way!”

She grunted. “Way.”

We were back to the one-word responses.* * *From: Koala Boy

To: Cheychey

Subject: That doesn’t sound good.From: Cheychey

To: Koala Boy

Subject: Crisis averted. How are you? MISS YOU SO MUCHFrom: Koala Boy

To: Cheychey

Subject: settle, jeez.5CutI woke up to an empty bed, and I was in a fuck mood ever since.

She ran.

It wasn’t that she left. It was that she ran. The girl freaking sprinted from this house, because when that alarm goes off, you shit your pants and she wasn’t anywhere near the door shitting her pants. That means she took off.

So, yeah.

Fuck day.

Saturday was supposed to be my rest day, but then Chad showed up.

He stalked inside, slamming his door shut on his end of the house we owned.

We technically owned two houses, one on each lot, but since it was the two of us, we merged them together. The bigger house was mine. The smaller one was his. The pool was behind my side of the house, but when Chad had parties, it was both of our houses. (Which meant he used my side of the house.) It was a cool project we did together, but I was getting tired of a few things.

“Hey.”

He stalked through the room, to the fridge and yanked it open.

Okay.

“Not a good night?”

He grunted, taking out some day-old pizza and he tossed the box on the oven. The top was flung open. The slices were dumped on a plate. The microwave door was shut harder than it needed to be.

My roommate/best friend/brother was in a mood.

“Did you go to the event?”

A second grunt. This time he turned with a glare. “You weren’t there.”

“I took off.”

“The guys told me.”

Right. I hadn’t texted him, but we were guys. We didn’t do that.

“Did you see your girl?”

A third grunt. “She kicked me out of bed.” The microwave beeped, and he hit the button. The door swung open and he had a whole slice stuffed in his mouth before he shut the microwave door on the back-swing.

He came over and sat at the table where I was.

“The Not-Russian?”

A fourth grunt as he stuffed a second slice in his mouth.

Then he was up, going to the fridge, and he pulled out a beer.

He opened it as he came back, and catching my look, he shook his head. “Don’t start.”

So, I didn’t start, not that I ever did.

“Wanna go skating today?”

“Fuck yeah.”

That was my Saturday.* * *I bent over to lace up my skates just as Hendrix dropped down to the bench beside me.

“Yo.” He was doing the same thing, his head turned my way. “What happened with that girl from the gala on Friday?”

It was Sunday and we had a game today. I’d tried not to fixate on her, but damn. It was hard. Best I’d ever had. I was riled up and claiming her, because apparently that was a thing with me. I had no clue until her that I could possess such strong feelings…but now, I wanted to punch someone for just being asked about her.

“Nothing.”

“What?” He straightened up, checking his skate. “You were all gung-ho on her that night.”

“Yeah, but the next morning was a different story.”

I stood, not wanting to talk anymore. Not about her.

Grabbing my stick, I headed out. We’d be going out to warm up soon.

Nodding at each of my teammates, we lined up in the tunnel.