“Cut it out, Brownie!” Delilah snaps eventually. “That is my brother!”
“It’s the nature of the game, Jamie,” Sierra shoots back, smirking.
Zero turns and drops his pants to give Delilah a full view of his bare ass on her turn, and now I’m the one to gasp and say, “Luca Cicero, that is my sister!”
“Hey, when you party with your siblings, shit’s gonna get awkward,” Zero shouts. He scoops up the ball from Delilah’s missed shot and buttons his pants. “Where’s Jade tonight anyway? I could find a way for things to get real awkward for Terzo if she were here.”
“Working on her final portfolio,” Delilah says. “I thought art majors had it easy, but I swear she’s got more work than anyone else I know.”
I don’t last at the table much longer. I can’t see straight when I throw the ball. The cups multiply and move on their own, and if I keep looking at them I might throw up. I stagger out into the hallway before the game’s even officially done and lean against the wall, tilting my head back.
The floor is literally rolling under my feet.
“That keg stand catching up to you?”
I crack an eye open as Sierra leans against the wall beside me, close enough our arms touch. She’s got long blond hair and blue eyes, and she’s got on this tight white shirt without shoulders, tucked into jeans that go up to her belly button. Not my type at all, but she’s cute. “Nah,” I mumble. “Feel great.” She has a nice laugh. “You play D, huh?”
She turns toward me, face lighting up because she has been trying to talk hockey with me all night and I’ve been completely blowing her off like an asshole. She’s been playing hockey just as long as me, with a Team USA, NWHL end game. I’ve seen her play. She’ll make it. Won’t be as successful as Delilah, obviously, but they play different positions anyway, so I guess it doesn’t really matter.
I can tell she’s being flirty. And I’m being flirty back. I feel dirty about it and I can barely keep my eyes open. Mom and Dad would like her, though. If they can’t have Nova as a daughter-in-law, they’ve always said I should at least seek out a hockey fan. Someone who knows the game and the lifestyle and will help me raise another Mickey James to legend. An actual hockey player would be even better.
But Cauler’s an actual hockey player, too. Dad’s not a homophobe, obviously, but I can still imagine the lecture he’d give me. Why it’s okay for Delilah to be gay but not me. Why women’s hockey fans would accept her but NHL fans would make my life hell. How I’d literally never see him during the season.
I don’t know what Sierra just said to me. I try to open my eyes to look at her but they feel glued shut. I barely manage to get them cracked when I hear Cauler say, “Where’s Terzo?” There’s laughter in his voice, and when he steps into the hallway, he’s smiling. “Hey. I wanna kick your ass in Smash Bros.”
I don’t want to play games. I want one of the bottles of liquor stashed in the attic. I want to chug it down until I forget my own name. I want to touch somebody. I want to touch Cauler.
“Um…，” Sierra starts, looking back and forth between us. “I’m gonna get a drink.” She eases her way out of the hallway like she knows exactly what’s going on here.
Cauler and I stare each other down. Or maybe it’s just me and he’s trying to figure out if he should back up before I puke on him or something.
“Well?” Cauler asks, motioning toward the living room.
That keg stand really is catching up with me. I let myself slide down the wall until I’m sitting. “We probably shouldn’t do shit like that,” I try to say. I don’t know how coherent it is.
Cauler sighs. He sits down cross-legged in front of me, picking the calluses on his hands. Chewing on his lip ring. I try to close my eyes to block him out, but the floor is swaying again and I have to open them.
“Why not?” Cauler says gruffly.
“’Cause. Too close to being something then.” I don’t know if I’m speaking actual words. I don’t wanna close my eyes with the way everything spins when I do, but they’re too heavy to keep open.
He doesn’t answer right away. My stomach is doing flips. I gotta get out of here.
“You don’t think we’re past that point already?” His voice is soft, quiet. Almost kind of sad.
I push down the feelings trying to dredge their way up into my chest. “No. If we are, then … we gotta stop.”