I shake my head, trying to jolt some sense back into my addled brain. Seriously, Ellie, what the fuck? The dare is ringing in my ears, and I only have a few hours before my lack of dare fulfillment feels uncomfortable.
“Just put them here,” he says, dropping his bags onto the bench and unloading the contents. The juice boxes are all wrapped in plastic, and Micky splits them.
“Shall I help you with that?” I ask.
He pauses what he’s doing and fixes me with that surprised look again. “Sure. That would be great.”
Behind us, Colby is yelling instructions. I hear Seb’s laughter and turn to see the kids all doubled over at something he’s said. With the sun shining down on us, there is something so unbelievably wholesome about this arrangement.
“Have you guys been doing this for long?” I ask Micky.
“A few weeks,” he says. “It was only supposed to be a short-term thing, but we’re going to carry on. The kids are awesome, and they’re making great progress.”
“That’s good,” I say.
“Yeah. It feels good to give something back.”
“I can see that.”
We continue unpacking as silence settles between us. There are so many things I want to ask Micky. Even though we live in the same house, there seems to be so much that I don’t know about him and his brothers. It feels weird that I’ve built up this image of them as selfish douchebags, when in reality, they seem different.
I swallow involuntarily at the realization that it’s me who’s the selfish one.
What the hell do I do to benefit the community? How am I making anyone’s life any better?
Ugh.
I already have my mom making me feel like a disappointment. I don’t need to be doing it to myself.
“You know, we need someone to organize the refreshments every week,” Micky says softly. “Dad has agreed to pay for it. Some kind of tax write-off. But we don’t get time to pick the stuff up before we come…there just isn’t enough room between classes and the start of the sessions.”
“Instead of mom, you mean?”
“Yeah, but obviously only if you have time.”
He eyes me cautiously, his long lashes casting shadows over his chiseled cheekbones. My gaze drifts to his mouth—his perfect, orgasmic mouth—and my lips tingle to kiss him. Would his mouth move over mine the same way as Seb’s did? Will he be as bossy as Colby when we’re alone?
“I guess I could,” I say, still not able to fully focus on what I’m saying.
“That would be awesome.” The smile Micky gives me is broad and genuine, his perfectly straight white teeth a bolt of pure joy in my otherwise stress-filled day.
The sound of the kid’s laughter and chatter builds, and when I turn, I find Colby and Seb leading their groups toward us. They’re all sweaty and ruddy-cheeked and smiling like they’ve been having the best time. I grab a few drinks and hand them out. There are oat bars and fruit too, and the kids take everything gratefully, settling onto the grass to enjoy a break from training.
Colby and Seb wait until everyone else has been served before accepting a drink and a snack themselves. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” Colby says, nodding slowly as though my presence is something that requires change of his opinion of me.
“I asked Ellie if she’d help every week, and she said yes.”
“That’s great,” Seb says, taking a massive bite from an oversized red apple.
“Yeah, awesome.” Coming from Colby, it comes with an undercurrent of suspicion.
It’s a suspicion that I understand. We’ve never been friendly. Not even when we were younger. I’ve always held them firmly at arm’s length, so why are things changing now?
I once heard someone say that people are like onions. You peel off one layer and find so many other layers beneath. It’s like my experience in the closet peeled off their outer shell, and now suddenly, all their other layers are visible.
I turn my attention back to them, trying to hold up the old lens against each triplet. Self-righteous Colby. Foolish Seb. Suck-up Micky. But the lens doesn’t work because it’s been cracked with new knowledge.
Is it better that I’ve begun to see them as better people?
Does it make going through with the dare tonight easier or harder?
I chew the inside of my cheek, sneaking a look at Micky, and decide that it’s a bit of both. Easier because I can relate to him more, but harder because relating means being closer to him, and getting closer means having feelings.
Feelings don’t have a place between us.
Feelings are messy and hurt-filled and best avoided at all times.
“So, are you going to hang around and watch?” Seb asks with a wink.
“No,” I reply quickly, even though I’d enjoy seeing the kids have fun. I don’t want their good Samaritan ways to seep through the cracks in my exterior any more than they have. “I’d better go.”