One Trip Around the Sun (2 page)

“Come on, Reese. We just said that
this
was the year. We have to network, and The Pit is the place to be!” she begs.

“I can’t be gone all weekend. You know that. I’d rather go on my actual birthday.”

“Reese…” she says but then closes her mouth. She looks down at her manicured fingers wrapped around her coffee cup and exhales a deep breath. Looking back up at me, she continues, “I love you, girl, and I love your mom as if she were my own, but…”

She looks away from me again as she struggles with her words. I have no idea why since she has said them to me a million times.

“Yes, I know. I need to cut the apron strings.”

Chelsea gives me a look of pity.

She’s right. I do hang out with my mom too often for a sixteen-year-old girl. But if I weren’t with her, I would be off doing dumb shit that I’d end up regretting one day anyway. Besides, my mom and I are close. We have an unspoken rule that I can go out one weekend night, and then on the other weekend night, I stay home, so we can hang out. It’s been this way since I can remember, and I like it.

Chelsea slaps her hand down on the table and leans in. “Well, here’s the deal, missy. You
are
coming to The Pit tomorrow. It’s not an option. Get me?” Her eyes are wide, meeting my glare.

With perfect timing, her guy friend approaches, interrupting us, “I didn’t get your number the last time I saw you at The Pit.” He raises his eyebrows and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

The design tattooed on his forearm grabs my attention. I’d bet he’s too old to be asking for a teenage girl’s phone number.

Chelsea sets her elbows on the table, clasping her hands. She does her perfect hair toss and licks her lips. She looks at me and winks, which means only one thing. She’s about to make a scene. “Wish my friend here, Reese, a happy birthday, and maybe I’ll give it to you.”

I would gladly sit in her shadow as
that hot girl’s friend
, if she would only let me. She won’t though. She’s constantly forcing me out of my comfort zone, and those are the times when I hate her.

“Happy birthday, Reese,” he says in a gravelly voice that confirms my thought about his age.

He takes my hand in his. Startled, I quickly jerk my arm away from him and scowl at Chelsea.

“Oh, hey there, killer, I didn’t say touch her,” she hisses.

He holds his hands up, surrendering, and mouths,
Sorry.
He casually backs away until he’s far enough to feel safe to turn his back to us.

I squirt sanitizer on my palm and rub my hands together. “That, my friend, is why I don’t go to The Pit. Weirdos like to touch without an invitation.” I take the last few sips of my coffee and stand up. “Did you and Connor break up?”

I know they didn’t because I just talked to him while he was at her house, but I want to make a point. I know Chelsea has daddy issues, but she’s seriously on another level in the boy-crazy department.

“Seriously, Reese, you’re so overdramatic. He was just trying to be sweet. Some girls actually like it when a guy kisses their hand.”

“I might have liked it, if I liked him. As it is, I don’t even know him, Chels,” I say, aggravated.

She stands, and we walk toward the front door to leave.

“And no, we didn’t break up. Why?”

“You were going to give that guy your number.”

As I slide into my car, she looks at me from over the roof of her car. “Whatever. I wasn’t going to give him my number. I was just teasing him.” She flashes me a grin that only means trouble. “Call me later.”

Rolling my eyes, I close my car door.

I somehow manage to avoid Chelsea for the rest of the day. I visit Gramma, and I leave with a hundred dollars. Then, I drive home and hang out with my mom until she goes to bed.

I’m lying on the couch, watching TV and eating popcorn, when I get a text from Chelsea at 12:01. It’s officially my birthday.

You suck for not being here, but happy birthday anyway.

Thanks! Love you, babe.
☺

She’s partying at The Pit, and I’m at home, like a lame ass.

Deciding to treat myself since it is now officially my birthday, I head into the kitchen. I notice my iPod on the counter and pick it up. I tuck it into my pocket and shove the earbuds in my ears. Nick Jonas’s “Jealous” begins to play, so I turn the volume up full blast, and I sing along.

I collect a bowl, a pint of vanilla ice cream, and a can of root beer, and I set it all on the counter. I prepare my root-beer float and dance around the kitchen. In between drinks I raise my hands and shake my ass. I strut over to the counter to clean up my mess. I turn toward the fridge to put the ice cream away, and out of the corner of my eye, I see something move.

“Ah!” I take off running into the family room.

I jump over the back of the couch and land on the seat, sending half a bowl of popcorn flying across the room. Fearing for my life, I curl up into the fetal position and close my eyes. Sensing that someone is standing over me, I crack open one eye. I scream even louder, but then a hand covers my mouth.

“What the hell, Reese?” Kyle leans over the back of the couch and yanks my earbuds out with the other hand. “Shut up! You’re gonna wake up Mom and Dad!”

Trying to defend myself, I throw my arms and legs about like a crazy person. I pry his hand off my mouth and gasp for breath. “Oh my god, Kyle!” I shove him in the chest and jump off the couch. “Asshole!” I shoot daggers at him, and I pace across the floor, trying to get my heart rate back to normal. “You scared the shit out of me!”

I’m pretty sure I just lost a few years of my life. Kyle is on his hands and knees, picking up the popcorn that I spilled. Shaking his head, he quietly cusses me out. When I turn toward the kitchen, I notice that someone else is in the room, and my heart skips a beat again, but it’s for an entirely different reason.

He is gorgeous. His sandy-blond hair is messy with sweaty curls. Icy-blue eyes latch on to my browns. I take a step backward, and we stare straight into one another’s eyes for an uncomfortable amount of time.

Kyle brushes past us on his way to dump the popcorn into the trash. “Brady, this is my sister, Reese. Reese, this is Brady. He’s training me until I leave.”

Kyle will be leaving for Army Basic Training next week. I’m trying hard not to think about it.

“Hi.” I smile at Brady and slowly walk past him. I wait just a second and then look over my shoulder.

His eyes have drifted straight to my ass.

So predictable.

My eyes are drawn to his chest, and the defined muscles twitch, causing me to nearly pass out. “Do you want some water?”

“Sure,” he says with a grin.

I bet he did the twitching thing on purpose, and he doesn’t seem the least bit concerned that I saw him sneak a peek at my ass.

I grab two water bottles from the fridge, and I toss one to Brady and the other to Kyle. Brady turns to follow Kyle into the family room, and this time, I check him out as I follow him. He’s wearing black gym shorts with a white T-shirt tucked into the waistband. Just as I did to him, he looks over his shoulder, only he one-ups me and grins, as he runs his hand through his hair.

Sneaky bastard.

I think he quite possibly has the cockiest grin I’ve ever seen in my life.

I sit on the arm of the couch and rest my feet on the cushion near where Kyle is sitting. “What are you guys doing out so late?”

Kyle shoves my feet away. He grabs the remote and flips through the TV guide across the bottom of the screen. “Brady doesn’t get off work until ten. I ran to the gym, and we worked out. Then, I ran home.”

He wipes his sweaty forehead on my knee and gently shoves me off the arm of the couch. Apparently, I was invading his space.

Sitting on the floor, I hug my knees when it dawns on me who
he
is. I’ve seen him at the gym a couple of times when I’ve worked out with my mom or Kyle. I’ve also spotted him at The Pit. Usually, his lips are locked with whatever anorexic slut he’s practicing to knock up.

“Oh, yeah. You work at the gym, right?” I use the back of my hand to wipe Kyle’s sweat off my knee and give it back to him.

Brady pries his eyes off my legs and looks to the TV. “Yeah, I do. What are you watching?” He makes a tortured expression as he watches the cheesy horror movie.

“
A Nightmare on Elm Street
.” I turn toward the TV.

“You must scare easily.” He winks and smiles with just one corner of his mouth.

I suck in a sharp breath as a near pain shoots through me.

After Kyle settles on an action movie, I jump up and turn toward the steps. “I’m going to bed. See you guys later.”

“You don’t have to run off,” Brady calls after me.

“I’m not running off. You guys just smell really bad.” I’m sure I’m blushing, and I don’t want him to notice, so I continue walking away.

“Hey, Reese?” Kyle says as I start up the stairs.

“Yeah?” I stop and look down at him.

He seems serious all of a sudden. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Ky.” I realize that he won’t be here for my birthday next year.

I stand there and stare at him until he stands. I try to burn the image into my memory. I’ll pull that one out of my memory bank on my next birthday.

He says good-bye to Brady with that stupid guys-only handshake that all the high school guys do. Then, he leaves the room in the direction of the bathroom.

Just as I feel tears pricking my eyes, Brady speaks up, “Happy birthday, Reese.”

Already, I can’t resist that cocky smile of his.

“Thanks.” I smile back, amused.

“I’m leaving. Should you lock up behind me?” He stands and points his thumb toward the kitchen.

I don’t hesitate before I follow him. We walk through the kitchen and to the back door.

Brady quickly spins around, startling me yet again. Not expecting it, I run into his chest. I jump back a step and suck in a deep breath. He lowers his mouth as if he’s going to whisper something to me, and his lips lightly brush my ear.

There is no way in hell this is happening!

Brady does not mess with girls like me.

A shiver runs from my head to my toes.

“Thanks for the show, Reese.” He winks, and then he’s out the door in a second, leaving me standing here, like a fool.

His scent lingers. It’s a sweet musky smell, and…I just don’t know what. My heart is pounding so hard it makes my chest ache.

No one has every made me feel so flattered and awkward at the same time.

It has to be a fluke. That’s it. Maybe it’s because he just worked out, and all those hormones are raging. Is that even possible?

As I shuffle my feet across the kitchen floor, heading to my bedroom, I pass Kyle, but I don’t even acknowledge him. My head is swimming. I want to call Chelsea and tell her about Brady, but I know she’d make a big deal out of it.

Instead, I take the stairs two at a time and then shove my door open. I fall onto my bed, and I drift off to sleep, thinking of a sweaty Brady Fisher.

I wake up on my seventeenth birthday in much the same way as I’ve done in past years. I’m pissed off before my feet even hit the floor.

Every year, I make a promise to myself that by my next birthday, I’ll have some life-altering event to speak of. Oh, and I’ll also have a little less ass. Every single year, I work so hard for a few months, and then I spend the rest of the year with my same old habits, eating whatever I want and doing whatever I want. This year, I know the same will happen if I don’t change my ways. Starting today, I’m getting out of this house, and I’m going to focus on working this ass off—literally.