It’s at times like these that I wonder what I’m really doing here. It was Tricia’s idea for me to come along. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and for some reason, I always go along with her ideas. Maybe her persistence in trying to get our family to work causes my acquiescence.
We’re a very strange, unconventional family, which none of them would admit to if you asked. I’m not blood-related to any of them, and yet they see me as one of them, even though I’m not. It’s admirable; although, I’m not sure it’s desirable. Some part of me is dying to have a real family again.
Or maybe I’m just tired of trying to explain to them why I don’t want to be involved in their family affairs. Specifically anything that involves Chris.
What Chris does is Chris’s business. I don’t give a damn what he does, and I don’t want to be involved. Just thinking about him makes my skin crawl. He’s so obnoxious, and I can’t forgive him for his past actions.
I shiver off the bad vibes and open up my book again.
See, this is why I bring my stories to family events. They make it easier to take my mind off whatever is going on in front of me. In this case, it’s Tricia trying to be a good mother, even though she never was one—not to them, and certainly not to me. But at least she tries, which has to count for something. More than I can give Chris credit for. He ruined my life and never made the effort to apologize. Not once.
I hate him with all my guts.
So I return to reading the books I love because that’s the only thing that keeps me from doing stupid things. Like going down there onto the tracks, grabbing a motorcycle, and beating him at his own game, just so I can slide that smug look right off his face.
It’s a very vivid fantasy … But only in my head, of course.
***
Age 14
I walk through the school hallway with books stacked on top of my arms, swaying from the force of gravity pulling on them. I can hardly see where I’m going with the books in my arms as I head to my locker. God, I wish I hadn’t taken them all out to read prior to my classes starting. I’m such a nerd. I can’t help myself, but I have to admit that it wasn’t one of my brightest ideas.
However, the fact alone that I’m now at least three chapters ahead of everyone else makes me smile. I put the books down on the ground, wipe my forehead, and open the locker. Right as I pick up the giant stack, someone runs into me, pushing me over. The books scatter on the ground, and so do I.
Kids around me laugh—some out loud and others behind their hands, as if it could hide their grins.
“Sorry!” the guy who ran me over yells as he runs off, not even looking back to see if I’m all right.
I crawl up and stare straight into Chris King’s eyes as he grabs my arm. Holy shit. Chris King’s strong, rugged hand is wrapped around my arm.
“You okay?” he asks, helping me up from the floor.
I’m completely zoned out, staring at him as if he’s not real. I’ve never been so close to him before, and I have to admit, what they say is true. He’s so sexy, with that cheeky grin, that stubbly chin, and those half-raised brows. He kind of looks like James Marsden, only a younger, even more handsome version.
I tuck my brown hair behind my ears as a flush appears on my cheeks. “Yeah, thanks,” I stammer, pulling my arm away quickly.
A lopsided smile appears on his chiseled face as he looks down at my frozen frame. Shit, why did I pull away so quickly? Now it’s as if I didn’t want him to touch me at all, even though I’ve only dreamed of a day where a guy like him would put his hands on me.
Oh lord, I’ve gone and done it. I’m one of those girls now. Those girls who pine over unattainable guys.
Well, it’s not as if I’m in love with him or something. I don’t even know him. I only watch him … every other day or two.
“My buddy was in a bit of a rush there,” he says. “He doesn’t pay attention to where he’s walking, but it’s especially bad when he has the runs.” He laughs out loud as my eyeballs almost pop out of my skull. I can barely contain my laughter. “He just ran straight off the fields, didn’t even finish the race.”
“Well, shit happens,” I muse.
He laughs some more. “Good one.”
“Chris, what are you doing?”
I turn my head to the sound and notice three guys coming up behind us.
He brushes his short brown hair with his fingers. “Oh, just talking.”
“With her?” one of them says as they approach. Something about the way that he says ‘her’ makes me wince.
“Dude, c’mon, we have to get back to the tracks. Coach wants us to do one more round.”
“What? Now? We just finished.” Chris stretches his muscles.
One of them steps forward. “Morris ran off, and Coach won’t accept it. He’s calling us all back because of his anal leakage.”
Chris bursts into laughter again, and his teammates slap him on the shoulder, dragging him away from me. “No time to talk to girls like her.”
Again, that word, her. As if they find me unworthy or something. Despicable.
I frown as the guys walk off, dragging Chris with them.
“See you!” he says.
I wave, not sure what to think of this random encounter. My heart is still fluttering at the thought of Chris King talking to me and grabbing my arm, but those friends of his left a sour taste in my mouth that’s hard to swallow.
***
Present
An hour later, the race is over and Chris is celebrating his victory in the backroom. Our family bursts in with their excitement, which is not the least bit tempered as we join in on the joy. Tricia hugs Chris and says, “You did wonderfully!”
His father, Frank, is next, patting him on the back after a bro hug. His brothers both give him fist bumps and hugs, wide smiles adorning their faces. I’m trying to hide my smile, but I can’t help but feel a little happy. Except when Chris walks up to me and says, “Proud of me, lil’ sis?”
It immediately dampens the good mood.
“I’m not your lil’ sis,” I say as he wraps his arm around my neck. “But you did well.”
“Aw, finally some recognition,” he muses, winking at me.
I lift his hand and slide his arm off me. “Don’t get cocky now. You won. Good job.”
“Oh, I won all right. And how.” He laughs. “Saw me in that corner, Leo? Fuck, my heart was almost jumping out of my chest back then.”
“Yeah, it was a tight one, but you made it!” Leo smiles.
Chris seems overcome by adrenaline, his muscles still tightening with every move as if he was still on his motorcycle. He makes cheering noises and pumps his fist in the air, unable to contain his excitement. It’s cute to watch, until I remember what a douchebag he really is.
I turn around and attempt to sneak out the door as the rest of them drink champagne until Chris says, “Where are you going?”
Shit. I stop in my tracks and glance over my shoulder. “I just got a call from work. I need to get back.”
“Nonsense; you were free for today. You told me yourself,” Tricia says, spoiling my plans.
Dammit, why can’t she just let me lie for once? I don’t want to be here, but I won’t say it to their faces.
I frown. “Well, plans change.”
“No, no, hold up,” Chris says, walking to me. “Don’t leave; you haven’t even finished your champagne yet.” He pushes a glass in my hand. The smile on his face demands attention, especially when he places a warm hand on my shoulder. I feel a slight tingle where he touches me that I quickly dismiss. “Just thirty minutes, okay?”
I sigh. Maybe I could stay for a while. The alcohol is sure a bonus. I take a sip. Yep, I definitely need that if I’m going to stay around my family for another thirty minutes.
“Chris is actually still looking for a spokesperson,” Tricia suddenly says, casually swaying her glass.
“So?” I say, taking another sip.
“Well, we thought you’d be the perfect candidate.”
I almost choke on my champagne. Trying to lick my lips to keep it from spilling onto the floor, I sputter, “What?”
“You work for a PR company, right?” Chris says.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” I say to the both of them.