Page 22 of Shelter
And in that moment, Louis, the little, weak, helpless turd that he was, reminded me of me. So, I’d waited until we were on our way to P.E. and punched him in the stomach outside the gym. When he’d folded like a paper bag, I’d felt like absolute shit. I’d just taken off running. And when he’d shown up tardy for PE and gotten a detention, he hadn’t told on me.
That had made me feel even worse. Because I also never told. Again, he’d reminded me of me. And if he was me in that situation, then who was I?
That might have been the last time I would have even looked at Louis Castor if it hadn’t been for the basketball. Our class was in the middle of the basketball unit, and the coach was having us do free-throw drills. I’d been standing in line, waiting for my turn and feeling like shit, when someone tapped me on the arm.
Without thinking, I’d turned, and Louis slammed his basketball right into my nose. I saw stars. I gushed blood.
And I laughed.
Even though half the class had seen it, the coach hadn’t. When he asked what happened, I’d just laughed, swung my arm around Louis’s shoulders, and said it was an accident.
And we’d been friends ever since.
Maybe it was the warmth of the pastry in my hand, its heavenly sweetness. Maybe the three beers I’d swallowed had lowered my defenses. Maybe it was the memory of how I’d found my best friend. Or maybe the week of failures had gotten the best of me…
But all at once, my friends’ kindnesses threatened to close my throat. I swallowed hard and took another bite to hide my rattled state, blinking away the sudden wetness in my eyes.
When it was safe, I cleared my throat. “This is really good, Bree,” I muttered. “Thank you.”
She moved her half-eaten pastry into her left hand and threw her right arm around my neck, smiling her stoned smile. “You’re welcome, Cole. I love you, too, you know?”
“Hey!” Louis protested again, stealing Bree’s last bite and tugging on her until her arm fell off my shoulder and she collapsed into him, giggling. I watched, amused — and, yeah, maybe just a little envious — as Bree wrapped her arms around my best friend and leaned into his scrawny little chest.
Don’t get me wrong. I did not have a crush on my best friend’s girl. Bree was all kinds of awesome, and she was perfect for Louis. She accepted his weirdness, his occasional moodiness, and his lack of shoes and manners with grace and laughter. I didn’t begrudge him that for a second.
Yet it would be nice to have something like they had. With someone.
But that was impossible. Now and maybe even for years.
Louis and Bree might put up with me and Ava shadowing them every weekend, but I knew any girl I’d want to date wouldn’t want my fourteen-year-old sister with us every time we went out. When we could go out, that is. And I would never let her set foot in our house, even when my father wasn’t home, because what if he came back without warning?
And what if she dropped by one day after school and saw my mom with a black eye?
I’d gotten better at defending us as I’d grown older — it was why I’d chosen to wrestle in the first place. That, and after I’d gotten suspended a second time freshman year for fighting, Coach Quinn had pulled me aside and told me if I didn’t join the team and find a way to deal with my anger, I’d probably wind up expelled one day.
I knew he was right. Besides that, after I hit puberty, karate just hadn’t been enough. I’d earned my black belt at fourteen, but karate was all about defense. It was never going to make me big, and skill pitted against strength couldn’t win every time.
I still couldn’t win against my father every time, but after two years of wrestling, he hesitated more and more before taking me on.
Even so, I needed a girlfriend like I needed to be kicked in the teeth.
But as I pulled my gaze away from Louis and Bree who were now lying on the cement, teasing and tickling, feet splashing in the pool, their eyes locked on each other’s, it was impossible not to wish for something I couldn’t have.
I was pushing myself up from the pool ledge, checking my watch and deciding it was time to find Ava, when Honey, Bree’s sister, burst through the back door.
“Bree!” she called, running toward us. “Cole! Come quick. Ava’s puking all over the place.”
Crap.
I set off at a run, passing Honey. “Where is she?”
“In my room. We were drinking wine coolers,” Honey said, sounding guilty. “I didn’t realize she’d had five.”
Shit.
“Shit.” I heard Louis curse behind me.
I cleared the porch where Bree’s friends Kat and Marie wore worried looks.
