Page 86 of Off Limits

A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it, and that’s all it takes to egg Ellie on. Cal shoots me another glare. “Thanks a lot,” he mutters.

Ellie’s on her knees on the couch, holding onto Cal’s sleeve, bouncing on the cushion next to him. “Come on, Cal,” she wheedles. “Just tell me.” Then she snatches her hands away. “Wait. Is it one of my friends? Are you just trying to get back at me? What’s going on?”

He sighs loudly. “No, Ellie. Astonishing as I’m sure it must be, not everything is about you. It’s no big deal, because there’s nothing going on.”

Ellie gives me a questioning look like she doesn’t quite believe her brother. I shrug. “Far as I know, there is someone, but he’s having trouble locking it down.”

Another loud sigh from Cal as Ellie settles back against my side. “Awww, poor Cal. He gets tortured by his sister and best friend at home, and the girl he likes doesn’t like him back.”

I pull her close and drop a kiss on her head. “Let’s leave him alone. He’s having a rough semester.”

“Fucking right I am,” he mutters.

Ellie gives him a look of sincere sympathy. “Hey,” she says, nudging him with her foot. He swipes at it halfheartedly, but glances at her. “I’m serious now. I’m sorry you’re having a rough time. I’ll stop needling you. Or I’ll try to do it less, anyway. But for real, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know, okay?”

Cal pats her foot affectionately. “There’s not, but thanks anyway.”

And just like that, their rivalry is over—at least for the moment—and we settle into the companionable routine we’ve established recently—TV, homework, dinner, and some private time for Ellie and me. Sometimes we just go to my room and make out, out of deference for Cal and the thin walls. Sometimes Cal goes out, giving us privacy.

As much as he grouses about the two of us being together, he’s actually made a strong effort to be okay with it. And even though Ellie likes to mess with him, it’s always tinged with affection and loyalty.

When Ellie first showed up on my doorstep a few months ago, I never would’ve guessed in a million years that we’d end up here. But I’m so glad that we did.

EPILOGUE

Piper

I stand and clap as my brother Gray makes a nice pass that the receiver catches and runs in for a touchdown, bringing the scrimmage—and practice—to a close. Boredom and restlessness have driven me to this—watching my brother’s football practices. Way down in the front where I have the best view of the field. The only sad, lonely person here in this great big stadium—other than the football players and coaching staff who have an obvious reason to be here.

To be fair, I like football, and my brother’s a pretty cool guy. And since I’m basically the reason he’s even back here in this crap town, I feel like I ought to do what I can to support him. Which means I go to all his home games—where I always sit in the student section and avoid my parents as much as possible, though they insist on seeing me for at least a few minutes every time—and sometimes even watch his practices.

It’s something to do, a way to feel included to some degree, even if it’s only in my head. Making friends as a transfer student has been difficult, especially since I skipped all the campus-sponsored new student activities at the beginning of the semester. Most of those are aimed at freshmen, though there were a few transfer-student-specific ones. Still, I did that whole song and dance last year at the university I actually wanted to attend. But that’s all in the past. I can’t go back there, even if I wanted to. Which at this point, I really don’t. And that’s a story for another time.

I’m here. Back in Spokane. And Marycliff is a good school, even if it has never been one of my top choices. The fact that it’s in my hometown—a place I’ve wanted to escape for as long as I can remember—is a big strike against it. It’s not that Spokane is a bad place, per se. It’s no worse than many other places, I’m sure. It’s just that I’ve lived here my whole life, and I’ve always wanted to explore the rest of what the world has to offer.

So being stuck here, once again under my parents’ watchful eye, grates.

At least I get to live on campus, something that’s only possible because Gray is living near campus and convinced my parents that it would be better for me to have as much of the normal college experience as possible. That I deserve another chance, despite what happened at SCU.

The second string quarterback turns at the sound of the piercing whistle I let out, looking up at the stands to figure out who’s cheering for a practice. I force myself to ignore him and the whole arrogant pretty boy vibe he gives off. I know his type. I’ve dated his type—and have the emotional scars to prove it. And I’m on a firm arrogant-pretty-boy-free diet.

There’s no denying that he is pretty, though …

He’s a couple of inches shorter than my brother, but Gray’s almost as tall as the giant who plays left tackle, so pretty boy isn’t exactly short. He turns his back to me to say something to someone next to him, and I see McAdam spelled out in red letters on the back of his white practice jersey.

The coach blows his whistle and motions everyone into the locker room. I sink back onto my seat and indulge my desire to watch McAdam jog off the field with the others. He looks back my way, and he catches me checking him out, sending me a dazzling grin on his way past.

I wait a while, messing around on my phone for a bit to give Gray time to finish up. Then I send him a text that I’ll meet him outside if he wants to grab dinner with me. It’s become something of a habit, me meeting up with him for dinner at least once a week—not counting the weekly dinner with our parents—even if I don’t watch his practice first. Coming to practices is a more recent development. With the semester well underway and the cold creeping in, there are fewer activities planned around campus. Midterms are coming up. I could study, but I can only handle so much studying before I go nuts. Plus, my roommate wanted the room to herself for a while tonight. So I figured tonight was a good night to grab dinner with my brother.

Making my way to the bench where I usually wait for Gray, I check through my emails—mostly newsletter updates from organizations I follow, a check in from my mom that I’ll need to respond to at some point, and an email from my friend Shelby, who’s still in California. I’m smiling at something Shelby said when a voice I don’t recognize speaks almost in my ear.

“Hey there, beautiful. You come here often?”

I look up to see McAdam standing in front of me, his hair still damp from the shower, a Marycliff football sweatshirt stretching across a broad chest that I know only comes from a dedicated workout routine and nutrition plan, that same dazzling smile from earlier on his face.

I roll my eyes, and let out a huff of laughter. “Really? That’s the best you can do?”

He shrugs, his smile not dimming in the slightest. “It got your attention, so it seems to work alright.”

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