Playing It Safe(16)

“Julia Ann Boyd,” my dad yells when he finally spots me. “Close the door and get your ass in here before you let any more mosquitoes in the house.”

“Carter, take it easy,” my mom pleads. “You know you need to watch that blood pressure of yours.”

“Woman, if you hadn’t taken away my screwdriver, I wouldn’t be pissed off to begin with.”

“I did it for your own good, dear,” she counters.

“What do you mean my own good?”


“Well, I mean that you … well, you know you never were that good at fixing stuff,” my poor mother says, now stammering. My dad’s face starts to turn a hue of red that rivals that of a tomato before he launches into an obscenity-laced rant about how a man’s tools are not to be trifled with.

“Enough!” Darren yells. “For the love of God, would you both just shut up for a minute, or ten, and try to be civil? Julia and I are going to be right in the other room. Don’t even think about starting this argument up again while we’re gone.”

It’s then I finally get a good look at Darren as he turns around and envelops me in a big bear hug and then plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek. Even though he’s my baby brother by five years, he’s huge in comparison, towering over me easily, and I’m no slouch in the height department at five feet six inches. He’s built like a brick shithouse, and I’m sure the ladies all go gaga for him with his dark blond hair and sky-blue eyes, but to me he’s still the little guy whose diapers I’ve helped change.

“Come on, I need a beer after dealing with Laurel and Hardy over here,” he says, shooting a thumb over his shoulder at my parents, who are staring at their respective sides of the living room wall, ignoring each other completely.

We walk into the kitchen, and he immediately goes for the refrigerator, opening the door and pulling out two Coronas while I hop onto one of the stools. He hands me mine before leaning against the kitchen counter and taking a long pull from his.

“So what’s going on, sis? Anything new?”

“Nothing new to report. How about you?”

He shakes his head while taking another sip of his beer before asking, “How’s the dating scene?”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it, Darren. Change the subject, please.”

With a hearty chuckle, he steps forward and puts his elbows on the kitchen island. “Uh-uh. Tell your favorite brother all about it.”

“Fine, but there’s nothing really to tell,” I get out in a whoosh of breath before bringing the bottle to my lips again. “I have the worst luck ever with men, and I’ve resigned myself to living as a spinster with tons of cats and a house that smells like cat piss.”

“It can’t be that bad,” he says while laughing. “There have to be some prospects.”

How sad is it that my only prospect is an occasional flirting session with a man who once tried to get into my best friend’s pants? It’s pretty f*cking sad.

“No prospects,” I confirm as I shift from side to side rather uncomfortably in my seat.

“I don’t believe you. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“What’s with the third degree?” I blurt out, trying to turn the tables on him. “What about you?”

The corners of his mouth turn up, and he raises an eyebrow. “Keeping my options open. By the way, nice try trying to change the subject.”

“Whatever,” I mumble.

A staring contest ensues like we used to have when we were kids. I usually win these, but I’m not feeling as confident with all the thoughts swirling in my head over Alex and just how pathetic my dating life has been in the past year. It’s enough to drive a girl straight to lesbianism. Were it not for the lack of real cock on that front—not the fake ones, because sorry, they’re not at all the same—the idea of it is becoming more and more appealing. I did experiment once in college but quickly realized that it wasn’t for me.

Oh, please. Like you didn’t make out with your sorority sister while she felt you up to make a guy all hot and bothered. I’m probably in the minority on that one. Then again, I was feeling no pain after playing a few rounds of beer pong and thought it was the actual guy and not my sorority sister. So I don’t think that really qualifies as experimenting. I suck even with the ladies.

“I win,” Darren announces when I dart my eyes away from him for a second.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“You’re losing your touch, sis. Are you sure nothing else is going on?”

I hate that he knows me so well and can hear my thoughts as if they were plainly written all over my face. And I’ve been trying my hardest not to think about it. About him. No, not Alex—it’s much worse than that.

Aiden.

“Julia?” Darren says, concerned. “What’s the matter? You know you’re eventually going to tell me, so stop dragging it out and just do it already.”

I let out a breath that I didn’t even know I was holding and focus on the bottle opener on the table between us. “I saw Aiden the other day.”

“Holy shit,” he whispers.

“Yup, that pretty much sums it up.”

“How did it go?” he asks.

I sigh. “Not well.”