The Not-Outcast by Tijan

15

Cut

Two away games later, I was pulling up to the house when I heard the music blaring from inside.

Chad was having a party.

The music wasn’t my first clue.

The thirty vehicles parked in the driveway and down the road had been. We had bought two lots, joined the houses together so I was able to pull into my garage. Chad’s was full, but the grand doors opened onto my side of the house, and I was tempted to sneak in through the back, go up those stairs and slip into my room. I could lock that shit down, and I was now thinking of a whole new design plan to turn my second floor into an apartment, with doors that could come down to close out the stairs. That’d be convenient right about now.

I didn’t, because Chad knew I was coming home, and he knew I’d been avoiding him since Thursday night.

A few women were hanging out on the front porch when I parked, heading over.

“Cut! Hi.”

“Hey, Cut. Sorry about your loss.”

I grunted. “Yeah.”

I was normally polite, but standoffish. These women, though…Chad had partied with before.

I nodded a hello, and kept moving around them.

They wanted me to stop. And I wanted to go to bed with Cheyenne. We all didn’t get what we wanted.

Thankfully, it wasn’t as packed as much as I thought it was going to be when I went inside.

A few guys in the foyer.

More in the living room.

I dipped into the kitchen, grabbing water, a few sports drinks, and food. There was a whole gathering in there, and Chad saw me. He was at the sink, his arm around a woman who wasn’t the Not-Russian he’d been spending time with. He straightened, his arm falling from her, and he called out, “Hey, buddy! Great game last night.”

We won the first game, lost last night.

I lifted my chin at him. “Thanks.” I scanned the rest of the room. I realized I didn’t know any of them, which made it easier for me to turn and move through the room that connected the kitchen to the living room. I could swing around, going up the back stairs, but as I did, I saw where the party was. Outside.

The giant patio doors were slid open. People were laughing. That was where the music was coming from, and lots of bikinis. Lots and lots of them.

“I’m planning on moving the party to Bresko’s later if you wanted to join?” Chad spoke from right behind me.

I turned, catching his grin, but it was a masked grin.

“Nah, I’m good.”

I started for the stairs.

“Hey.” Chad got in front of me. “What’s going on with us? You’ve been off for a week.”

He wanted to know about Cheyenne. I told him about Cheyenne. Then he told me about Cheyenne, but I found out Thursday night that I was thinking he didn’t know a lot about the sister he didn’t want me to see.

I stared at him. “You know what’s going on.”

He quieted, the grin slipped and he eased back a step. He was holding a beer and his hand tightened, gripping it. “You’re still going to see her?”

I gestured in the direction of the kitchen with my head. “What about that bunny? I thought you were seeing Cheyenne’s friend.”

“She’s not a bunny.”

“You know what I mean.”

He quieted, nodding. “Yeah. I do.”

And there was silence.

Which I figured.

Chad liked that I was usually laid-back off the ice. Until now, because I wasn’t anymore when it came to Cheyenne, and there were feelings involved. Those feelings came out of nowhere. And they were intense, and we were all playing catch up, including myself.

“I don’t want you seeing her.”

“That’s your answer to my question about her friend? You quit seeing the friend, hoping that’d make me not see your sister? Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

“She’s not my sister.” His knuckles whitened around the beer before smoothing out again. “But you are? Seeing her?”

“I don’t know. We don’t even know.”

“You’ve been gone. I mean, how would that work?”

I frowned. “Phone. Texting. I’d think the normal way.”

His neck was getting red. “That’s what you’re doing? You’re sexting with my sister?”

“Like you said, she’s not really your sister.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man, she’s Hunter’s sister.”

“She doesn’t seem to have a relationship with anyone in your family besides Hunter.”

“That’s because—”

I was waiting.

I hadn’t cut him off. He stopped himself.

“Because?”

The red was crawling up. Chad was getting pissed. “She’s a fucking mental case. You got no clue what she put my family through in high school—”

“She told me she had a crush on me in school. Did you know?”

He looked away.

So, he knew and he hadn’t told me. I asked, “Did she ask you not to say anything to me?”

His eyes lit up, and he sneered. “Ask me? Fuck no. We never talked. Like never. I barely saw her myself. Mom wanted Hunter and me out of the house, and that was for a reason. Her mom—”

“Was a junkie.”

His head reared back.

“She told me. She told me a lot, actually. She was trying to scare me off. Thought I’d bolt at the first red flag.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “She did?”

“Chad, baby.” The woman from his side in the kitchen came out, wrapping herself around him. She rested her head against his shoulder, smiling up at me. “Hey, Cut. How are you? You played great both nights.”

I nodded, but didn’t reply. I said to Chad, “I’ll be upstairs.”

“You coming out tonight?” It was the woman.

I looked her over, flicked my gaze to Chad and left.

I heard her pfft behind me, and I didn’t care.

Christ.

I didn’t know what was going on with Chad. He’d been my best friend for so long, we were brothers, but this side of him? It only came out when he talked about Cheyenne, and she’d been referred to as ‘that girl’ in the past.

My phone buzzed when I was putting my water and food on the desk.

Hendrix: Your boy texted, saying he’s got a party going to Bresko’s tonight. You going?

Me: No.

Hendrix: Want to come over here? Could watch the game.

Me: Let me check with someone quick.

And I texted to Cheyenne.

Me: You around tonight?

She didn’t waste time getting back to me. My phone buzzed right away.

Cheyenne: Was planning on heading to Tits tonight. My friend runs it. You’re back?

I grinned.

Me: Fucking love that you hang out at a strip club.

Cheyenne: Want to come? Hang out? I’ll give you a private lap dance, just make sure you bring those dollar bills.

Andmy dick was hard.

I stifled a groan but typed back.

Me: We still need a first date. Let’s save that for the second date.

Cheyenne: Deal.

Me: I’m going to go to a friend’s, but I could swing by your place after? How long do you stay at the titty bar?

Cheyenne: I’ll be there till about 9. You sure you don’t want to come? How many girls have you dated that try to entice you to a strip club?

Me: None. I don’t date.

I waited.

She didn’t respond right away.

I waited a little bit more.

Then…

Cheyenne: Maybe the lap dance can be tonight at my place?

I was full-on smiling now, and I didn’t care.

Me: I am holding you to that.

Me: Text more later?

Cheyenne: Sounds good. I’m heading to the gym now.

Me: Be safe.

We ended it there, and the same feeling I had over the last few days, between our texting and our phone calls, was the same. This was new to me, but it felt good. It felt right. And I’d never felt that before either.

The music went up a whole decibel level, and I was done.

I texted Hendrix.

Me: You at your place now?

Hendrix: Yep. Game’s on.

I chuckled. If anything else, we were a predictable lot.

Me: Heading over now.

Hendrix: Pick up a pack, would you? I’m out.

I glanced at the food I grabbed, and none of it looked appeasing.

Me: Food?

Hendrix: I stocked up on the way home. Just bring the beer.

Me: On it.