Page 17 of Off Limits

“There ya go. Majority wins.” Lochlyn settles into the couch, a victorious smile on his face.

When we started spending a lot of time together as a trio, we found that we often didn’t agree on things. We had started voting to end arguments. If we all had varying opinions, then we found something different.

“I swear, if you weren’t my brother and best friend, I’d suggest you two get together. You’d make a perfect couple. Same taste in music and shows. You’re both brainiacs.” My heart speeds up at the suggestion, so loud I’m worried they can hear it, and I have to fight the urge to put my hand against my chest to try to contain the sound.

“Well, Chels, we do a little thing called studying,” Lochlyn says mockingly.

“Yeah, yeah, so do I. It just comes easier for the two of you.” She’s lost in thought for a minute, staring at the far wall as though something’s written on it, before picking up her phone.

We sit in silence watching the show for almost two hours. Every so often, Lochlyn shifts, usually the slightest bit closer to me, though I could be imagining it. At one point, I notice his hand seemingly reaching for me before he pulls it back and rests his arm across the back of the couch. All the while, Chelsea’s on her phone oohing and ahhing.

“I’ll be right back, guys.” There must be something interesting that pulled her attention away, as she jumps up and sprints out of the room.

“So, how are you, Shay?”

After a lot of reflection on our kiss and time spent together in recent months, I’ve come to realize that Lochlyn asks me this question when we’re alone together. He’s never asked in front of Chelsea. I’m not entirely sure why that is, but I do have a feeling it has to do with our summer conversations, that I told him things I had never said aloud before.

“I’m alright.” I nod resolutely, tucking a curl behind my ear.

“Yeah? How’s school? I know you’ve been worried about that.”

“School’s fine. I, uh, I actually sent my paperwork in to end my deferment, starting in the fall.” I turn to him and the giant smile that’s spread across his face is infectious and causes one to stretch on mine. He clearly overheard me at Thanksgiving when I talked to Chelsea, before finding solace on the back deck. But there’s something different about telling him directly. Probably the reaction he has.

“I’m really happy for you. I know that was a huge deal. That’s great news.”

I'm about to respond when Chelsea walks back in, stealing the words from the tip of my tongue.

“So, Loch, what’s the social life like at Cornell?”

“You ask me this all the time. The answer is always the same.”

“I’m not sure if that’s your way of saying your bed is busy or not.”

He sighs, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “That’s it. I’m done. Good night, Shay, Happy New Year.” Putting his hands on his knees, he rises to stand, and I shift with the loss of his weight on the couch, my body cooler without the heat emanating from his body.

It’s a pretty regular occurrence. Chelsea knows exactly what buttons to push to get him to leave. It always irritates me, because I enjoy his presence. Which then makes me feel guilty because I shouldn’t.

“Well, now that he’s gone…” she says, taking the remote.

“You know, I was watching that too.”

She waves me off. “You’ve seen them a hundred times.”

A sigh pulls from deep in my chest as I slouch down on the couch. She flips through until she finds a song she likes, singing and bopping along. It’s somewhat insufferable, not my kind of music. But one thing I learned a long time ago is that it’s easier to just let her be happy.

So I stay and let her watch her show. She finds ways to make it fun, to make me laugh. Including running to her room and grabbing her hairbrush, singing into it like she’s the star. Chelsea has little to no shame in doing anything. It’s part of what makes me stay around. She can be selfish, but she’s fun loving and knows how to put a smile on my face.

“Alright, my love. I’m going to go upstairs and call Brendan before I pass out.”

“You’re not going to stay up until midnight?” I’m not sure why I’m surprised. She never does.

“Nope. My pillow is calling.”

One corner of my mouth tips down. What am I supposed to do now? “Okay. Good night, Chels. Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year, Shay. Don’t feel like you have to leave. Stay the night even! We can have the first breakfast together.”

“I’ll probably just go home.” The sting of dejection resides in my chest as she stands from the couch.

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