Page 4 of Fortunate Misfortune
Kenneth groans. “We can literally see her sleeping.”
“You can’t see anything! Bye!” Breaking pool rules, Cade sprints away and dives into the shallow water.
Cade Owens is dead to me. Dead deaddead.
“Edwards,” Kenneth says in that overly formal tone that makes me want to salute.
Bracing myself, I turn around and salute anyway because I know he hates it. I tip my head back slightly to meet his eyes. What makes this worse is that I’ve always had a thing for tall men. If it was literally anyone else, these five inches would be perfect.
That’s what she said.
When my lips quirk upward at my own joke, he pinches the bridge of his nose as if my presence alone exhausts him. “You need to be careful. Cade won’t always be there to make sure you don’t get concussed.”
I chuckle. “How cute. You watching me, Gray?”
“Always,Eddie.” Angling his body down, the limited space between us shrinks, giving me a front row seat to his shit-eating grin. I have hated that nickname since freshman year, which makes him love it even more. “Have I told you that you’re cute when you pout? I can’t imagine how good you’ll look when I win junior year.”
Now it’s my turn to pinch the bridge of my nose. If it were any other time, I’d probably engage in this witty tango. Sadly, I don’t have any fight in me tonight.
“Did you just come over here to brag? I get it, it’s our thing. Annoy the shit out of the other current loser, but I can’t do this tonight.” Even though I step back to give him ample space to walk through, he stays rooted like the annoying weed he is. “Fine. I’ll leave.”
His brow lifts at my unusually defeated response. This isn’t the reaction he’s used to. Our interactions are exclusively related to the game. Onthe unlucky days we’re forced to mingle, it always ends with a head-splitting migraine.
There’s a weird tightness in his freckled forehead when his eyes meet mine again. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. That’s all.”
“Okay?” I ask, blinking hard at the man above me. After he spent the entire holiday break bragging about his lead and incessantly reminded me all night, now he wants to check in? Yeah right. I’ll admit, our game isn’t bad. I’d even consider it a fun distraction from my host of problems.
Then I remember how badly I need to beat him.
Winning the Brain Bowl would give me infinite bragging rights, but even more than that, I’m desperate to prove something to myself. That I am still me. Maybe a win will convince my brain I have my shit together, and I’ll finally stop feeling like the epitome of an overachieving failure.
However, Kenneth doesn’t need to know any of that. Not now. Not ever.
“I’m fine, Gray,” I say. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
I fling the restroom door open, step through it, and leave him on the other side because I need peace, and Kenneth Gray is everything but that.
Chapter Two
“Hey, Grandpa.” Cade’s legshang over the arm of the loveseat, his eyes glued to the television in our living room. “Who’s the lucky lady tonight?”
I scan the endless stacks of boxes on the bookshelf. It’s a good thing neither of us are big readers. If we were, where would my ladies go? A cluster of stars ranging from brilliant white to fiery red catches my eye, and I pull the puzzle down. “The nebula. She looks pretty.”
“Great choice. I bet the guy who got it for you is sexy.”
“He’s also very conceited.” I dump the contents of the box onto the dining room table. Cade gets me the coolest puzzles. “How long until they get here?”
“About an hour, so you better get going. And no timing yourself tonight.”
I pat my pockets and glare at him. “Seriously? Did you take my timer again?”
Cade shrugs, reaching into his shirt to pull out my blue timer. “Relax. Set a world record another day.”
With classes starting tomorrow, Cade and I spent our last free Monday deep cleaning the house for Mallory and Shay’s arrival for tonight’s BrainBowl activity. In an hour, Mallory will saunter in, bringing chaos and color into our home. I already bet Cade five bucks she’ll wear a shade of orange.
After our run-in at the pool party on Friday night, I wasn’t sure if she’d still come. Then I remembered Mallory Edwards doesn’t flee. She runs straight toward competition with open arms and a cheek-splitting smile.
I’ve always secretly admired that about her.
