5
SEBASTIAN
There is nothing like a shower after a game. The sweat and dirt wash down the drain, and my sore muscles loosen perfectly under the stream of steaming hot water. My brothers always complain that I take too long, but they don’t understand that this is part of my ritual. Some people have pregame rituals. The things they do to hold luck on their side. I have a post-game ritual that keeps my head in the right place. I use the time to think through what went well and what I’d change if I could fix my mistakes. By the time I get into the locker room, dressed only in a small white towel, my teammates have finished busting each other’s balls. I can avoid hearing the negativity tossed around when everyone is pumped with testosterone.
As I stroll out of the showers and into the locker room, I catch sight of Colby and Micky, who are dressed, and sitting next to their gym bags, their dark hair still slick with water. Colby narrows his eyes at me. He hates waiting, but he’s done with complaining because he knows it won’t make a damned bit of difference.
“Hey, douchebags,” I say, grabbing my bag from my locker and searching out my antiperspirant. “What’s the rush!” Nothing like tossing out a taunt to wind them up.
“Don’t start,” Micky says, holding his hands out as though they can prevent me from prodding Colby and Colby from reacting. Micky has always been the buffer between us. The middle-born child. Is that a coincidence? It must be. There are only three minutes between each of us. Three minutes doesn’t make Colby the serious, mature one or me the lighthearted joker. It doesn’t make Micky the triplet who empathizes with everyone so much that it burdens his soul. I guess when the universe was handing out attributes, they handed out ours in a way that is just ridiculously cliched.
“Some of us have things to do,” Colby grumbles.
“Oh yeah. And what’s such an emergency?”
“He’s got an assignment to prepare for,” Micky says with a glint in his eye.
“Don’t start,” Colby says. “I always have assignments to prepare for.”
“Yeah, but this one’s with Ellie.”
I lift my brows, scanning my brother’s expression for any sign of how he’s feeling. As usual, he’s giving absolutely nothing away. But I don’t need to see his reaction to knowing what he’s thinking. Since our seven minutes with Ellie in the closet, Colby’s been acting like a bear with a sore head, and he’s even worse than usual. None of us knew it was going to be her, but we all wanted it to be.
Colby won’t admit that to me, though. He holds his cards close to his chest, but I catch the lingering looks he gives her when she’s fixing breakfast in her sleep shorts and crop top with messy hair and sleepy eyes. I catch the way he seems extra riled by her over the smallest things. He believes that by maintaining his frosty, aggravated persona, no one will guess he’s been lusting over his stepsister for years, but he forgets I know him and Micky better than anyone.
Micky doesn’t even try to disguise his lingering looks. He stares at Ellie’s ass like it’s the ark of the covenant dropped from heaven in front of his very eyes.
And me. Well, I do what I always do. I use my humor to cover the fact that Ellie is my dream girl made reality.
“Is she still mad as hell?” I ask.
“Yep,” Colby grits his teeth, which makes his jaw tick.
“You talking about that fine stepsister of yours?” Elias asks, looking up from packing his bag.
“Easy,” Colby warns. “Ellie’s family.”
“Interesting family you’ve got.” Elias grins broadly despite Colby’s withering stare and Micky’s slightly panicked expression.
“You going somewhere with this?” I ask.
“I heard you went somewhere with her. Into the closet.”
“You never heard of minding your own fucking business.” Colby lumbers to his feet, making the most of his imposing size to draw a line under the conversation, but Elias is also huge and remains unphased.
“I’m just telling you what I heard.”
“Yeah. Well, maybe people need to keep their mouths shut about things that don’t concern them,” Colby grunts, looking around the locker room to make it clear he means everyone there.
Elias shrugs. “When it was Blake’s love life getting dissected last week, you were all over it.”
“Blake was all over it,” Micky says quickly. “None of us were getting involved in any business that he wasn’t happy sharing.”
“That’s the thing, though, isn’t it? You guys seem very happy to share,” Elias winks, and I take a step forward, knowing Colby’s temper is frayed to the point of being held together by a single thread. Coach would be pissed if there were any physical altercations in the locker room, and I need shit from Coach like I need a bullet in the brain.