Dahlia Aldridge
“Why is he staying, again?” I muttered, glaring at the car that was approaching my house. I may have felt some level of frustration with Stratton, but it was nothing, and I meannothingin comparison to Yates Carter.
I knew why Stratton was staying. His grandmother, his only living relative, was sick. Legitimately, extremely sick. I knew it caused him pain to talk about, so I tried to not ask for updates too often, but I did stop over there once a week to sit with her on the porch and drink some sweet tea. As long as she was having a good day, of course, because during the bad, she could barely leave bed. In some ways, I think the situation left Stratton feeling worse and more frustrated than when his parents had died in a car crash before sixth grade. As he always described it, that moment had been like ‘ripping off a bandaid’ or ‘popping a bubble,’ whereas this was slower, more painful to experience on a daily basis.
I understood what he was trying to say, but both were horrible situations to be in, and both were concepts that I wished I could protect him from. Something that probably sounded ridiculous, considering Stratton didn’t need protection. Well, physically, at least. Emotionally, though? I could and had done that before.
When his parents passed, I hadn’t known much about grief. I’d overhead my parents talking about the incident and had watched the police come and go from the house next door for hours until I worked up the nerve to go over there myself. I hadn’t told my parents what I was doing, but when I found Stratton in his bedroom crying, I curled up behind him and hugged him like my mom always did when I was upset. When I woke up, I’d been back at my house, but I’d continued to do exactly the same thing ten or twenty times in a row until I was positive my friend would be okay.
Every summer, though, starting on June 6th, Stratton disappeared for about a week, and unfortunately, unlike when we were little, he was far more difficult to find and get a hold of. This past summer, I’d managed to find him sitting outside two days after the anniversary of their passing, smoking a cigarette and looking pissed right off. He had tried to be an ass and had even said some stuff that I later hit him over the head for, but I had been persistent, and when I finally sat behind him on the back stone stairs of his house and wrapped my arms around him, he’d let me hold him. I’m not positive how long we sat like that, but he’d let me run my fingers through his hair, and at one point I was almost positive he’d been crying, but I didn’t ask. I hadn’t wanted to move, afraid to break the moment.
The next day he acted as if none of that had happened, something that had both unsurprised me and bummed me out in equal parts. That was okay, though—I had endless patience. So yeah, I understood why Stratton was staying in the area, and despite the reasoning, I was glad for it.
I also knew why King was staying here. The Ross family had laid it out from very early on that if King wanted to go to college, he could, but that it wasn’t necessary. He had chosen to get to work right away and take classes at Silver Oak when he had free time. Something that had absolutely thrilled me, because it meant he was staying here. With me.
But why the heck was Yates staying?
Couldn’t he go against the grain and attend one of those Ivy Leagues he’d gotten into? I knew he didn’t give a flip what others thought of him, so I had no idea what was stopping him… actually, that was a lie. I knew he wanted to stay close to his parents, especially his mom. A reprieve from his foolishness would have been nice, though.
I nearly rolled my eyes at my own words, because despite how annoying I found Yates, the idea of him actually gone left me feeling… empty? Sure, let’s go with that.
Either way, here he was, pulling up to my curb, two houses too early if you ask me. I narrowed my eyes at my archnemesis as he hopped out of his car. For the record, yes, it was difficult to be enemies when you hung out every single day, but I tried, damn it. I tried.
I narrowed my eyes at the way-too-handsome-for-his-own-good man, wondering how he moved so easily despite his large muscular frame. It seemed like he should have been more awkward with all those muscles, right? I looked over his designer suit, his tie undone just slightly and pulled away from his tan neck, and his platinum blonde hair styled back with a few pieces that had broken away to cross over his face. After rounding his car, almost immediately, his silver eyes focused in on me as he crossed my lawn. I had no idea what to do with this man, and he sure as heck had no idea what to do with me.
Well, actually, I had a few ideas…
“Aren’t you two cute.” Yates offered an antagonistic smile as his eyes flashed dangerously. “Does King know you are fucking Stratton on the side, bunny?”
I hated the casual way he put his hands in his pockets, as if bothering me was literally the only thing he had planned for the evening. It probably was. It didn’t help that the way he said ‘fucking’ turned me on, along with his blunt nature and the way his temper seemed to spark randomly, usually in reference to other men. Although, to be fair, with Stratton it was toned down.
I sighed and put my elbow up on Stratton’s muscular shoulder, cradling my chin in my palm and attempting to look bored. “I’m not even entertaining that question. You, Yates, are not now nor ever will be privy to information about my sex life.”
Or lack thereof.
I wasn’t going to play this game with him. He knew well and good I wasn’t sleeping with anyone. Something that I would love to change any day here. I mean, I was eighteen, I was sort of over this crap right now. I had attractive men around me, around the clock, and yet I couldn’t find anyone to help me out? I was almost positive that they found me attractive, but that was about where my instincts stopped and ended.
I mean, couldn’t it just be a hook up for the sake of a hook up? Hell, I may even take Yates at this point. Sure, with any of them it would mean a ton more to me than them since I was absolutely in love with them… but what’s the worst that could happen? They acted like it never happened? Broke my heart when I found them with someone else? Yeah, alright, that was fair. Plus, Yates was currently not on my ‘good’ list, so I wasn’t willing to extend my fantasy invitation to him.
Not that he would take me up on it.
“We’ll see about that,” he growled, causing my skin to prickle as I smirked.Or maybe he would.Alright, I admit it, I may find it somewhat entertaining to mess with the man. I wasn’t positive how Yates felt about me besides frustrated and oddly possessive, but I did know what happened when I tried to go out on actual dates.
My butt in his Mercedes on the way back to Wildberry Lane. Every. Single. Time.
Usually, my father was already waiting on the porch and just offered him a smile as I stormed into the house, complaining about his ridiculous, overbearing actions that contrasted his dismissive attitude. My dad found it funny, and the other boys seemed to as well, which was probably why I’d stopped going on dates.
Also because it was a bit embarrassing. I mean, the man was a hot head, and so whenever he showed up at the restaurant, it usually went something along the lines of ‘get in the car, we are going home,’ followed by me telling him ‘no.’ Then my date would step in, and before long I was having to walk out of the restaurant trying to not laugh because Yates was so worked up. I mean, I couldn’t be all that upset, because half the time I went on those dates just to be nice. Plus, to torture Yates, I’d spend the entire car ride home pestering him on why it bothered him so much that I had been on a date.
His answers were always entertaining and completely illogical.
That wasn’t even a joke. One time he had looked me in the eye and said ‘because if you end up liking him, you’re going to do that weird happy humming thing and it will get stuck in my head.’ Like,what? The man was so odd.
“What do you want, Yates?” I arched a brow, my other hand straying to Stratton’s hair as Yates’s gaze tracked the movement, his eyes narrowing slightly. I had to admit, in this lighting? He looked like some angelic model. No, models were way less muscular than he was. He just was very attractive, and his features were almost perfect. Like, it was very hard to find a flaw when it came to Yates’s physical appearance.
Personality was a different side of the coin.
“Is that Yates out there?!” my mother chimed. The bastard’s face broke into a charming smile that was at least part authentic, though part was to piss me off. My mom appeared on the porch, stepping out the door and looking absolutely effortless in her grace and beauty. I swear, if I grew up to be even an ounce of the woman she was, my life would be complete.