Page 3 of Send It
“No,” I quip. “I didn’t train hard enough. I’ll work harder.”
“You work harder than anyone I know, you train every day.” She argues.
“I need to be better, I can go faster.”
She doesn’t argue with me and we talk about the weekend,and her many many boy problems until finally she takes a breath, “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. I think we’re both working the same shift at Lakeside.”
Shit.
I totally forgot about my summer job. We’ve worked together at the marina’s restaurant for three summers straight. Yeah, it’s a job and we make good tips but it’s also fun. We know the regulars, and on the weekends it’s the local “it” spot.
“Yeah, I’ll see you then.”
Ending the call, I roll over in bed, pulling the band of my shorts down to inspect my hip. Sure enough, it’s a nice little mixture of purple and blue. Testing it, I take my finger and push down, wincing.
The door to the back room swings open, and Colson steps inside. I replace the band trying to hide any sign of weakness, but he catches me.
“Is that from today?”
Sitting up in the bunk against the wall, I make eye contact with him. “What do you care?”
“You need to ice it,” he demands. “And you need to take some ibuprofen.”
“Stop telling me what I need, Colson.Youneed to stop being a dick.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says. “I would never hurt you on purpose baby Bane.”
My blood boils. I’m seventeen years old, hardly a baby.
“Stop calling me that.”
“I’ve called you that for years.”
I cross my arms, “I’m not a baby anymore.”
His mouth tilts into a smirk, “That’s debatable with the way you are acting.”
“With how I’m acting?” I argue. “You wrecked me on purpose, Colson. That is so fucking childish.”
“Or smart,” he quips. “You aren’t ready for amateur nationals and you know it. One more year maybe, but I did you a favor, Linc. You think that bruise on your hip is bad? Try racing with those guys, the best in the nation, and see how you look when you come off the track.”
“I’m not some weak little girl, asshole. I can handle myself.”
He leans over me on the bed, caging me in with his arms, his nose nearly touching mine. “You couldn’t even handle me.”
I feel a heat in my chest with how close his lips are to mine, and I can smell his damp hair, still wet from the shower. A perfect mix of peppermint and birchwood.
It’s Colson.
Footsteps approach and he pulls away quickly, straightening himself on the edge of my bunk.
“What are you all doing?” Reiss asks, raising his brow, “Please tell me you aren’t arguing again?”
I love my brother but damn he is a nosy mother fucker, and he hates feeling left out. When we were kids he did the same thing, he’d never leave me alone with Colson.
Looking back, I don’t know if it was because he was jealous or if he was afraid of what might blossom between us. There were moments, believe me, beautiful moments between Colson and myself but none that ever amounted to anything sexual.
“We’re not arguing. We aren’t doing anything.” I growl, pulling my phone back out and continuing to scroll.
