Page 9 of Play For Me

Just thinking about that party has my palms sweating. There’s a part of me that wants nothing more than to be back in my apartment now, where it’s quiet and still. Where I can shut the curtains and turn the lights low and get lost in something—schoolwork, a LEGO set, binge-watching baseball games. Where I don’t have to feel the heat of Emery’s furtive gaze on the side of my face or feel the worried tension Jay can’t quite mask with his usual goofiness.

But isolating like that, as tempting as it is, rarely works out for the best. The further I sink into myself, the harder it is to climb back out again. And I’ve worked too damn hard to let this school year get derailed before it even begins—especially not over something as inconsequential as a stained shirt.

It hadn’t felt inconsequential at the time, though. I have to fight off a shudder as I think of the sticky feel of my punch-soaked shirt clinging to my skin. The way my body suddenly felt all wrong—skin too tight, nerves too raw. Things that had been mildly annoying just a few minutes before—the crowd, the noise—suddenly felt unbearable. My brain had been painfully aware of the people around us, how much closer they all felt the longer I stood there. How the volume of the party seemed to ramp up ten-fold.

Cecelia Ransome’s dark blue eyes, staring at me so intently, filled with worry and confusion.

And maybe a little judgement.

I take a deep breath and hold it, counting to five and then ten, fifteen, before finally releasing it.She wasn’t judging you,I tell myself, for the hundredth time since that night.And it wouldn’t matter if she was. She doesn’t even know who you are.

That doesn’t really make me feel any better.

Turning my attention back to the window, I see the Brecken family ranch up ahead and some of the tension eases out of me. We’re almost there.

“What do you think Red is making for lunch?” Jay asks from the back seat. I shoot Em a smile as she rolls her eyes. It doesn’t matter that Jay ate a huge breakfast less than two hours ago—the guy is constantly thinking about food.

“I think he said something about carnitas,” Em says, signaling before passing a slow-moving tractor. Yeah, we’re definitely getting close now. Feed stores and pick-up trucks have long-since replaced the crush of the city and the sprawl of the suburbs.

“Fuck yeah,” Jay groans. “Sol, your grandpa makes the best carnitas.”

“He makes the best everything,” I agree. My grandfather employs a housekeeper, Mae, and she does most of the cooking for the ranch hands that keep the place going. But he likes to cook for us himself when he has the time, and he’s damn good at it.

Just thinking about the ranch where the three of us spent so much of our adolescence is making me feel calmer.

“Thanks for dragging me out today,” I tell Em in an undertone, and she snorts.

“Are you kidding? Red would have killed us if we showed up without you.” She shoots me a quick smirk. “And, you know, I guess we like your company okay.”

“You adore my company and you know it,” I say in my driest voice, and the Miller siblings laugh.

A few minutes later, Em parks on the side of the long, graveled driveway, just outside the main house. I look up at the familiar facade and I swear I can feel my blood pressure lower. This place has always had that effect on me.

I sit in the passenger seat for a moment, letting the calm wash over me. Jay is far more impatient, already out of the car and greeting Red’s three dogs as they bark and jump around him.

“You ready?” Em asks and I give her a small smile as I nod.

Red is waiting on the front porch by the time we climb out of the car. There’s a grin on his tanned, weather-creased face, and I know if he removed his aviator sunglasses, I’d be able to see the happy sparkle in his blue eyes even from here.

Jay is the first to reach the porch. “Hey, old man,” he says, pulling my grandpa in for a hug. “Tell me lunch is almost ready.”

Red laughs and shoves him away. “Mae put a fruit and veggie tray out,” he tells him, snorting when Jay makes a face. “You could do with something healthy, kid. I know how you eat.”

“Hasn’t had a bite of food that wasn’t fried or breaded since the last time we were here,” Em agrees, moving in to hug Red.

“There’s my girl,” he says happily, kissing the top of her head.

Then it’s my turn. Red doesn’t hug me but he does reach out and clamp a hand on my shoulder, the pressure firm and pleasant, grounding me. “Hey, son. It’s good to see you.”

I force myself to meet my grandfather’s eye, not always the easiest thing for me at such close quarters, though his sunglasses help a little. “Good to see you, too.” I grip his shoulder in return, patting twice, and his grin grows.

“Let’s get in the house,” he says, turning to the door. “I could use a cold beer in this heat.”

“Red,” Jay gasps in mock-shock. “Are you seriously offering alcohol to innocent and impressionable youths?”

My grandpa shoves him as he passes into the house. “Boy, you haven’t been innocent in at least a decade.”

The three of us groan as soon as we pass over the threshold. “That smells amazing,” Em says. “Please tell me it’s ready.”