A lovely, hot, grease-stripping shower after days of horrendous work shifts and fourteen hours of comatose sleep later, I no longer wanted to curse the world. Renewed energy sprung me out of bed Sunday morning without a care that I overslept and missed breakfast.
"Last day of summer," I groaned, heading downstairs. "And the end of my no-Jake peace."
"Ellie, that you?" Banging sounds erupted as Mom juggled a pile of mixing bowls. Half the counters were buried in familiar ingredients.
I greeted her with, "Ugh, not chicken parm already."
One of her best recipes was chicken parmesan. It served with steamed broccoli was the only dinner Jake ate during the season. Being defending state champs, I expected a repeat from the creature of habit.
"Don't give me that look." She set her bowls on the counter. "Meatballs first, then chicken parm."
I wasn't aware I gave her a look, but before I answered, her eyes rounded, and she gaped at me. "What?"
Her hands clutched her apron, and her eyes welled up with tears. Before I moved, her palms smooshed my cheeks until I had fish lips. "I can't believe it. My baby is so grown. Only yesterday you were my little tripping hazard who banged wooden spoons on pots and pans and refused to wear shirts because you got them too messy."
My nose scrunched up. Seriously? That's where her mind went?
"Let me have my sad mom moment." She sniffled and dropped my face.
Sad mom moment. Fine. Subject change time. I rounded my mouth back into its normal position. Jake's absence prompted me to ask, "Where's Jake?"
"On his way," she replied and grabbed her largest bowl. "We tried to wake you to say hi when he called, but you were dead to the world."
I wasn't at all bothered by that because sleep. "I'm sure his fan club will throw a parade once he's back."
"Hush," she scolded with a smile. "He's under a tremendous amount of pressure."
I knew that repeat state championship expectations rode on Jake's shoulders. He projected an air of welcoming the challenge but he spent extra time practicing and conditioning in summer camps. Between his focus on football, his crazy ex, and my shitty job, I hadn't seen him until his muscles seemed to double overnight.
Ugh, and now he's single. Insert girl obsessions.
I washed my hands and dried them on the back of my jeans. Hopefully, no one at school found out that Jake could cook. If girls didn't fall apart at the sight of him enough already, that would spring leaks in their vaginas.
Mom shoved her bowl to me, filled with raw ground beef and pork. I added brown sugar and Italian seasonings while her knife rocked, chopping onions in fluid waves. Since I could make this recipe in my sleep, I didn't measure the basil, oregano, parsley, and garlic powder before adding them. "Dad's closing tonight," she murmured with a head shake. "End of the month, you know."
I knew from his daily updates, but I asked anyways. "How many cars did he sell this month?"
Pride filled her voice as she answered, "Six new, eleven used. Hoping for another tonight."
"That's good," I murmured and stirred my bowl.
Buying a car was a big decision, which fluctuated Dad's income. To make up for it, Mom was a manager at an insurance company. Both were respectable, traditional, boring jobs. Jake and I wanted nothing to do with either.
"He got Friday nights off for the season."
"Of course, he is," I muttered to my mound of meat. The season. Not Christmas, not holidays, and not fall. Jake's shadow of football influence again.
Her lighter tone fell flat on my melancholy. "Dad wouldn't help today anyway. Glad I have you."
Dad was a hot mess in the kitchen, but Mom was a cooking wizard. Her love of it was infectious, and I'd been contaminated. Making something out of ingredients and getting my hands messy was fun, almost as fun as reading.
Except for pizza. I was ruined there.
"What are we listening to today?" Mom's knife paused mid-slice, and she raised an eyebrow at Saul Bellows' audiobook flowing from my phone.
"The Adventures of Augie March." I smiled at my book selection. "It's on my English Lit reading list."
"Not sure which fact I should comment on more." Her brown eyes sparkled, the same dark chocolate she passed to Jake and me. "That you'd rather hear a book than let your Mom get her dance groove on, you're getting into your English Lit reading list before school starts, or you're cheating by using an audiobook."
Ouch. Mom burn. "It's not cheating if the book is on the optional list." I pretended to scowl. Mom's dance moves were terrible anyways. No one needed to see her flat ass jiggling and pelvic rolls. No one.
"Sure, but you have to explain the eagle catching a lizard symbolism. I never get this part," she muttered at our current chapter.
I smiled since there wasn't any symbolism here. My phone's robotic reading voice was interrupted by sniffling nasal sounds from Mom's onion pile. Her shaky breath was too much for me to remain silent. "Mom?"
"Fuh-fine." She sniffed in a long, dragged-out breath that jingled her gold necklaces. "It's the onions."
"Onions, huh?" We both knew that her watery eyes weren't from any onions. "Let's switch then."
"Fine. It's not the onions," she confessed as one hand wrung the other's fingers. Her eyes shone with tears, and her voice husked thick, "This is Jake's last season, your last year. We'll be touring college campuses soon."
"I can't wait." I grinned at the word 'college,' dampened by one tiny, insignificant missing detail: I hadn't shared that my early applications were sent to schools nowhere near California.
Mom eyed me with a tight grip on her knife. "Which schools are you considering?"
"Umm..." I fixed my gaze on the meatball seasoning that my hands stirred. "Some east-coast. You know, Harvard, Yale, and Cornell."
Her knife clattered on her cutting board, which she palmed to stillness. "Eleanor Grace!" Her eyes stretched until her irises were surrounded with white. "Out-of-state tuition aside, do you know how expensive those schools are?"
"I know," I grumbled. "And no football scholarship."
"It's not that, honey. But your father and I don't have enough kidneys to sell to afford that." Her smile contrasted with the panic in her eyes. Mom's words were an arrow shot to my chest. We lived comfortably, but the extra money wasn't lying around. Despite my dashed hopes for my car aside, the new phone for my birthday was a big deal for them. "You can't consider community college? Stay at home?"
My eyes stretched to the size of saucers. Was she crazy? The sole purpose of 'going to college' was leaving home. I bit my tongue to avoid hurting her feelings and blaming the onions again. "Umm... You always say that you want me to get experiences," I chose my words carefully because Mom guilt hit hard. "So this is how the great Ellie student debt crisis begins."
By her furrowed eyebrows, she didn't buy into that idea. "Not end of discussion. We will visit some in-state schools, Ellie."
"Not USC," I warned her. Technically, it was a private school, but not on my radar. "That's Jake's dream, not mine."
"We can do UCLA, Cal-Berkley, lots of good options."
UCLA? Twenty minutes from Jake wasn't far enough away. I was thankful she changed the subject, except for the subject itself. "But before that, Jake told me that Homecoming is in eight weeks." Her tone was casual, but her eyes sparkled as she lined baking sheets.
"Ugh," was the response that topic deserved.
"He also told me this morning that Kieran wants to take you." I gagged on that reveal. Why would Jake say that? Did he smash his head into a field goal post? "I like it," she cooed.
My eyes almost rolled into the back of my head. Me and that snake charmer dancing at Homecoming? I hadn't recovered from wiping Logan out of my life. "Solid no, Mom." Homecoming snuffed out any intrigue from her having a conversation with Jake about any topic other than football.
I fell silent as she further pushed the issue. "You aren't going?" Why was she surprised? School dances were lame. Her eyes flooded with a warm excitement that I couldn't reciprocate. "We could go dress shopping with Harper."
Mom's heart was in the right place, but her concern was misplaced. "Harper and I want no part of it." Plus the booze-fest orgy that followed. "And I'm not going to watch Jake get another crown," I added before she called Kieran herself and asked him to be my date.
"Ellie." After a slow breath, Mom released a sigh. "I know you've always preferred studying at home and working for college money, but have you thought about putting yourself out there? You're missing so much of a high school experience. Sometimes I can't believe you're a California girl, given how much you hate the beach."
If only she knew the details of my last beach visit. "Why would I risk melanoma?" I scowled, but her head shook.
"Ellie, this is your last chance. Have some fun while you can."
Why was I the adult in this conversation? She talked like she wanted to finish school for me. "Mom, I'd rather look forward than backward."
I scooped her chopped onions into my bowl. With both hands, I stirred it until a giant, cohesive mound formed. Mom grabbed two ice cream scoops. We hand-rolled meat scoops into balls and set them on her baking sheets. Soft meat squelches passed between us. We bumped elbow against elbow until we reached two full trays and no resolution on my social life.
"You've always been more focused on moving forward." Mom sighed again and nudged her elbow into my ribs. "Don't grow up too fast and regret it later, okay?"
I gave her a half-smile. "I'll think about it."
These conversations were so hard. Why I wanted out of the high school social scene died on my tongue. The warm kindness in her eyes stabbed my chest with a butter knife – dull, rounded, and ineffective. I never shared what happened with Ryder outside Jake and Harper. Harper met me in the hallway. She grabbed my elbows as I stumbled. Jake stepped behind, in details that blurred away. I wasn't sure how we got outside until cold cement scratched my butt. Harper called her dad. I stayed at her house overnight, although neither of us slept.
Santa Cruz High's student body thought they knew what happened, but thankfully no other parent approached mine. I was eternally grateful Ryder's rumors never reached my parents' ears. I never told them for two reasons. First, I was embarrassed. I didn't want them to be ashamed or disappointed. Before that night, I didn't know that level of evil existed. And their –no, Dad's– overreactions. Dad's temper would've erupted like a dormant volcano. He would have filed police reports and screamed at the principal. An already emotional powder keg of a situation would have exploded when he demanded the school be shut down, coaches fired, and the whole team arrested.
It would have created a never-ending nightmare. So instead, I ignored the pain from shit rumors until they faded into disinterest, kept my head low, and stayed away from football players and parties until graduation. My plan worked beautifully until an incredibly annoying yet handsome football player barged into my life.
Fuck, now I sounded like I liked him.
Mom seemed satisfied enough with my answer to change the topic. "After the red sauce, what else should we make?"
"Dinner stuff for leftovers." Nothing beats a brick of gooey, cheesy, meaty marinara. "Lasagna?"
"Sounds good." Mom raided the pantry and filled her arms with marinara ingredients. She called it gravy, but I followed Aunt Maria with red sauce. "Where's Harper?"
"Grounded." I smiled at her pile of tomatoes.
Mom's smile was equal parts comical and delusional. "I wasn't sure if she wanted to welcome Jake home. I'll never forget the stars she put into his eyes."
Unless running Jake over with her car, then backing up and hitting him again for good measure, counted as 'welcome home, Jake,' Harper was more likely mourning his return. Mom's disillusionment flashed an enamored smile. I burst into loud laughs that bounced my shoulders. Those two might have had a gooey, mutual first crush at thirteen but now? They borderline tolerated the same airspace, for my sake. "Keep dreaming, Mom."
"Hush." Her red lips pursed. "That girl has been the only one not impressed with his... confidence."
"Cockiness." I rolled my eyes. "Harper's under house arrest, and I'm pretty sure Jake wouldn't like any welcome-back ideas she had in mind."
"Say what you want, but let me have my mom moments," she replied with a smile. "Regardless, we always have an extra chair for her. And David, if he's ever not in the office."
As some kind of defense lawyer, Harper's dad worked all the time and didn't cook. As Mom said, the Harrison family dinner table always had an open seat for Harper, even if she and Jake hated each other. Why Mom couldn't see that, I had no idea.
"Jake, you've exercised some piss poor judgment." Mom's voice rang out when I walked inside after another work shift. Today's smell was onions. So many onions.
No amount of my pleading convinced Harper to come over for dinner with Jake here. She might've enjoyed the argument I walked into. With quick steps, I peered in the living room at a stand-off between the two male Harrisons.
"Mom, it's not that bad," Jake muttered.
"Drinking!? Sneaking out?" His fists squeezed so tight that his knuckles strained white. His hazel eyes blazed, his forehead scrunched in wrinkles upon wrinkles, and his brown comb-over strands threatened to fly free. "Are you insane?"
Jake clenched his jaw. "Dad, it's not a big deal. I'm fine -"
"No, you're not." Dad's face flushed red, and he jabbed the airspace between their puffed-up chests. "You're grounded."
A snort escaped my mouth. That was nothing. Jake cleared the second-story jump from his bedroom window with his eyes closed.
"I'm eighteen!" Jake protested, ironically, childishly. "You can't ground me."
"You're underage!" Dad roared.
Part of me sympathized with Jake bearing the brunt of Dad's temper. Better him than me and it was about time he got lectured on his bullshit.
"We can take away your car," Mom suggested and palmed Dad's shoulder. "Calm down, Dale, before you have a heart attack."
My ears perked up at that suggestion, which had my vote. The words, "I'll take it!" flew out of my mouth before they registered in my brain. "I... could... use it to get... to work." I closed my mouth from Jake's murderous look.
"No parties." Dad's white-knuckled fisted hands crossed over his chest and he squared his shoulders. Spots of red remained in his facial rash. "Not one, Jacob Issac Harrison. You're done."
Ooh, full name usage.
"That's crazy!" Jake's narrowed eyes and tight fists matched Dad's.
I rolled my lower lip under my teeth. A family showdown, complete with silent tension, took over our living room. "Not even Homecoming?" My curiosity interrupted their argument. "C'mon, we all know he'll be King."
"Chaperoned dances are fine." Dad's glare locked with Jake's. "No parties, no drinking."
"But I need to catch up with the team, and celebrate our wins." Of course, Jake worked the football angle. Because they were talking about football strategies between beer pong, keg stands, and body shots at parties. Please, even I knew what happened without going.
"Hmm, fine." My eyes rolled when Dad caved, as usual. "You are allowed to go to any party only if Ellie attends. But that's it. And no drinking, period."
What the fuck!? We weren't Taming of the Shrew here. "Wait-" "What!?" As Jake and I spoke at the same time, six brown eyes stared at Dad. What the hell was this agreement? He had watched too many rom-com movies on Hallmark Channel specials with Mom. Was a pregnancy suit from Ten Things I Hate About You coming out next?
"Hey!" I wrenched my face in a frown and squared off against both of them. "Innocent bystander here."
"That's not fair..." Jake fumed until steam almost puffed out his ears. My insides broiled under Dad's ridiculous suggestion. "She doesn't attend any parties."
Shut up, Jake. Don't tell them why. My pulse quickened, and I squeezed my hands at my sides. Thankfully, he threw me an exasperated look and stomped out. I exhaled and slumped my shoulders.
"That's the idea." Dad smiled at Mom.
I rolled my eyes. How was I the one punished? Ridiculous.
After dinner, Jake flopped on his bed with a grunt and echoed my earlier thought. "Ridiculous."
"How did they find out?" Hopefully, he didn't suspect I spilled the beans. How his morning-after carcass impression on the sofa went unnoticed was a miracle... or a perk of being the golden boy quarterback.
Dirty laundry littered his floor, releasing a Hazmat-level stench. It burned the insides of my nose, making me wrinkle it. I lifted my eyes from his large frame on his double-sized bed, past a few raunchy girl posters censored by Harper and me.
"We snuck out of camp for rookie initiation," he admitted and cupped his chin in his hands. "I left my varsity jacket at a bonfire. Some girl brought it to the Coach, and he called Mom."
"Jake!" I scowled at Jake's hazing party at camp. 'Steal the player's jacket' was also the oldest trick in the football groupies' book How to Stalk -and Win Over- a Football Player.
Chapter 1: Steal something of his so you can win his appreciation of you 'finding' it.
Chapter 2: Trip in his vicinity. Don't worry, his reflexes will catch you.
Wait a minute. Totally wrong context.
I only attended Santa Cruz's football games because they were important to Jake. My ass sat on cold, metal bleachers since middle school and always would solely for this idiot. I wasn't a huge fan of the game and didn't even know all the rules. I was always there for Jake, but that didn't mean I had to like every aspect outside the game. In particular, I hated the social aspect, which, thanks to Dad's new decree, I now had a front-row seat in misery stadium.
"Was your jacket all she wore?" I laughed as Jake tossed one of his bed pillows at my face. My front pocket buzzed as I tossed the pillow back at him, then pulled out my phone. A smile threatened to break across my face while I glanced at the screen.
Harper: I'm free!
Harper: at midnight
Harper: the night before school starts 👎🙄
"I haven't forgotten about that tool, Hightower." Jake's eyes narrowed at my phone. "Especially after his team crashed your pathetic social page."
How had he found out? "Please." I rolled my eyes. "They didn't do anything. I deleted it, and I've blocked his ass. So, dial back the security guard mode. And, while you're at it, stop hazing innocent new teammates."
Disagreeing about the decent treatment of younger players prompted us into a stand-off. "It's tradition, gotta do it." His chest puffed up with a sharp breath.
"Doesn't make it right." I glared daggers at him.
"Not everyone is as brilliant and self-righteous as you, Ellie." His exaggerated frown mocked mine. "You think you know everything from books."
"Maybe, one day, some of it will rub off." I flipped my frown into a smile, which won him over. Like now.
"Keep trying." Jake ran his fingers through his dark locks, and his lips pulled into a smile. Ha, defeat. "By the way... This Saturday?"
"Ugh," I groaned and shook my head back and forth. "No. Dad just grounded you! No."
A smirk formed on his mouth that I wanted to punch off. "Please, Ellie. I met a girl -"
"No." I shook my head so fast, Jake's face blurred.
"She transferred," Jake said as if that explained everything.
If he called her fresh meat then I would smack him or let Harper punch him in the balls again. I continued shaking my head, to where the momentum pulsed a headache. "Hasn't picked up on your predatory nature yet, huh, Jake?" My voice dripped with sarcasm.
"She's not like that." His voice softened, and his smirk faded. "I met her at the library. She's nice and sweet. You'd like her. I might want to take her to Homecoming."
"Great, then ask her after you throw the winning touchdown pass at the game beforehand. I'm sure she'll toss her underwear at you." I crossed my arms. Irritation soaked every word I spoke until I realized -
"Jake, did you say library?" I couldn't help but snicker at the mental image of his tall frame as he maneuvered around the book stacks. "Were you lost?"
"No." His dark eyes narrowed at me. "I was returning some books for you. She was doing one of those kids' reading circle things."
I dropped my arms. "Oh." That was nice. Jake was being a decent human, for once. His words slowly sank in, but Jake's face was serious. She wasn't a jersey-chaser, maybe not even impressed with his elevated football status.
"As I said, she's not like that." Softness replaced his usual arrogant cockiness, which was refreshing to my ears, even if he used it to exploit me. "She's more... quiet."
I rolled my lips inward and bit down the 'No' that hung on the tip of my tongue. Quiet library girl and parties didn't seem to fit in the same sentence. She could be normal.
"Her dad doesn't let her date, but she can attend parties. I want to pick her up and leave." His dark eyes pleaded, and his lower lip puffed out. "So, Saturday... Please?"
He was not... That's my move! "Ugh, fine. But she'd better be nice," I tossed over my shoulder and left Jake's room with a huff.
"Thanks." He palmed the bed behind him and leaned back. "I owe you."
My lips curled up, and I crossed my arms. No way he would accept my counteroffer. "You do. One condition: you come to book club Saturday."
"What?" His nose wrinkled. "Why the fuck would I hang out with you and Noodle Boy Henderson to talk about books?"
In all honesty, and for Alex's anxiety, I hoped he didn't come. But I needed a test of how serious Jake was. "If I have to suffer on Saturday, then so do you."
He huffed a loud sigh, then ran one hand through his hair. "Deal."
"Oh." I dropped my arms. That wasn't the answer I expected. "Really?"
"Doesn't sound like you're giving me a choice," he mumbled in a dry voice.
"Great." With a turn, I went into my room, retrieved Pride and Prejudice, and chucked it at his head. He caught it with a snap of fluttered pages. "Enjoy."