Page 33 of Ruse
“No, it’s totally cool, I’ll call an Uber.” Darcy fiddles nervously with the sleeves of her shirt and is clearly uncomfortable with whatever’s going on.
“No, that's not safe, at least not on your own,” Fitz counters back at her becoming visibly upset which isn’t something I’ve ever seen from him. Clearly it is uncommon even for Brooklyn who looks over at his best friend confused. Fitz is usually as calm and carefree, the literal epitome of aboy next door, kind, empathetic, trusting. There is no way Darcy, who is practically his female equivalent, is the person to bring out this never-before-seen part of him.
“I can drive you,” Brooklyn offers.
“Nonsense,” Fitz snaps back, “I’m driving there anyway, I’ll take her.” For a second the four of us stand in awkward silence, unsure what the hell just happened. Darcy is visibly equally embarrassed and annoyed, Fitz is glaring directly at her, and Brooklyn and I stare dumbfounded at each other trying to figure out what to do next.
“Where’s this party we’re going to?” Donavan shouts walking over to us. I wasn’t aware she was coming over today, but she must have seen us from her upstairs balcony.
“Oh god, here we go. I’m out y’all,” Brooklyn says, stomping off into the house. “Catch you tomorrow at practice Fitz.”
Donovan's smile fades when she sees my brother walk away specifically because she’s arrived.What the hell is up with everyone today?
“Nowhere, Dee,” I say, but the hurt in her eyes quickly disappears and back in place is her winning smile. “My friend Darcy is leaving. Brooklyn, wait!” My brother stops in his tracks turning back to me annoyed.
“Before I forget, how do you think the football team will feel about hosting a kissing booth this year at the End of Summer Fair?” Both Brooklyn and Fitz’s eyes light up with excitement.
“Oh, hell yeah!” they both shout, high-fiving each other in a totally annoyingjockway.
“A kissing booth?” Donovan asks.
“Yeah, Darcy and I are helping plan the End of Summer Fair and it’s going to be Grease themed, like the movie. You know the famous end scene at the carnival. We’re thinking we can fundraise a lot of money if the football team oversees the kissing booth.”
Fitz nods his head, “Well count us in, and if their captains are in, you know the rest of the team is a done deal.”
I reach for Darcy, giving her a small goodbye hug. “Now I see which guy on the football team you want to kiss,” I whisper so only she can hear.
She shakes her head, “Oh God no, I'd rather kiss your brother.” The boys are out of earshot, but I know Dee catches the end of her comment.
* * *
Once Darcyand Fitz left together, much to her dismay, I sent Donovan on her way and headed inside and up to my bedroom for a much-needed shower and change of clothes. It was nearly seven in the evening when I finally headed downstairs to the kitchen, my stomach growling from not having eaten anything since lunch earlier today. Wearing a pair of spandex shorts and a matching sports bra, my wet hair up in a messy bun on the top of my head, and my face free of any makeup, I tiptoe quietly toward the refrigerator, hoping no one is home, and praying to find a charcuterie board Marta usually keeps stored for days like this when I forgo dinner.
“Bingo,” I mutter to myself, spotting a salami, prosciutto, and brie tray sitting on the shelf right in front of me with a post-it note with my name on it. I absolutely love Marta and will make sure to pick her up one of her favorite eclairs from Le Macaron next time I’m in Santa Monica.
I pick up the small charcuterie board and set it down on the counter, reaching back over to grab something to drink.
“Your father’s looking for you,” Daphne says, appearing out of nowhere, scaring me half to death, making the glass pitcher of orange juice fall out of my hands, and come crashing down on the floor with a loud bang.
“Shit woman,” I yell, stepping away from the shards of glass currently on the ground beside my bare feet. “Warn someone next time. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
Her face pales, matching the white sundress she’s wearing, when she looks down and notices the trail of blood dripping from my foot along the floor. “Fuck,” I curse under my breath.
“What the hell was that?” Maverick shouts, rushing into the room with Brooklyn right behind him. They’re both dripping in sweat probably coming from a workout sesh in the gym since they're dressed like they were, in matching black basketball shorts and white Adidas tanks.
“Nothing,” I reply curtly, glaring at a shocked Daphne who stands with her mouth wide open in front of me. “Your mom just scared the hell out of me, and I dropped something.”
“Shit P, you’re bleeding,” Brooklyn says, stating the obvious.
God, I can’t believe he’s my brother sometimes. Blonde, brawn, and brainless. “Gee thanks Captain Obvious, I hadn’t noticed.” I’m not sure if it's the sting of the glass embedded into the bottom of my foot or if that’s just my natural reaction when my idiot brother is concerned, regardless I piss him off enough to make him walk away.
“Whatever, bleed to death,” he curses walking right back out of the room.
“I’m sorry Phoenix,” Daphne pleads, clearly flustered and back to the land of the living. “I didn’t mean to startle you, dear. I’ll go look for the First -Aid kit. Marta!” she exclaims walking toward the staff quarters.
I shake my head at her idea of helping by getting Marta to do it for her. Of course, she doesn’t know where a First-Aid kit would be. “Fuck,” I groan, trying to take a step forward with my right foot. It’s useless, the glass is pricking my skin, making it painful to try to walk.
“Jesus, Phoenix, don’t walk on it,” Maverick scolds, moving toward me with a bored look on his face, like I’m a child incapable of understanding what he’s saying.
