“Damn. I haven’t been to this place in, like, a million years.” Oscar whistled, turning 360 degrees as he took in the entryway to my parents' house. As if he had never seen it in his life.
I clicked my tongue. “Oh, is that so?” I did my best to sound interested, but the sarcastic drawl in my voice was hard to miss. Thankfully, no one was paying attention to me. They were all looking around the house.
After running after Duncan, I felt bad about just ditching the group at the party, so I had invited them over to see the progress I was making on the house, and maybe catch the game–I didn’t think they would actually take me up on the offer. But I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, it was Chestnut, and people were overly friendly for literally no reason.
I couldn’t wait to see how fast that would change when they found out the truth.
Vi ran her fingers across the plastic covering on the kitchen island, which was there just to keep it out of the way until I needed to protect the floor. “It’s different.”
“I haven’t done that much yet.” I moved to the fridge and opened it up. I had finally cleaned it out of all my parent’s old, rotting food, so it was mostly filled with juices, veggies, and the rest of the protein shake I had made before my morning run. “Want anything to drink?” See, I could at least attempt to be a good host.
“I’ll have water!” Connie chimed as she looked at the pile of paintings I had taken down from the walls, the ones painted by my grandmother, her face twisting. Ian wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“Do you have any soda?” He asked.
I shook my head. “Nah, I don’t really like that stuff. Is juice ok?”
“Do you have beer?”
“It’s the middle of the afternoon.”
“And?”
“Okay, beer for Ian.” I tossed him one, which he caught without looking like the basketball star he was. “Oscar? Vi?”
“I’m fine,” Oscar responded.
“I’ll have some lemonade.” Vi slipped in and grabbed the jug of lemonade from the shelf, then maneuvered over to the cabinet where we kept the glasses and pulled one down for herself.
It almost felt like no time had passed at all.
I swallowed hard, and grabbed a bottle of mango before remembering there was still one person who hadn’t answered my question. “What about you, Duncan?”
Duncan’s head snapped up from where he was standing in the attached den, and he quickly put a picture down on the old secretary desk my mother so loved. He walked over to the fridge and pretended to look around before grabbing a random juice for himself. “This is good…” He sounded far away, and he didn’t look at me once the whole time.
“Um. Okay.” I closed the fridge and moved to the den, flipping on the TV, which was already flipped to the right channel in anticipation of the group gathering. “Looks like we still have a bit of time before it starts.”
Ian flopped onto my parents’ old, dusty couch that had existed in that very spot since before I was born and pulled Connie down with him, crossing his feet on the ottoman like he lived there. Like it hadn’t been eight years.
Like he was still one of my best friends.
I scrunched my nose and looked away.
“You ever play basketball, Liam? You’ve got the height.” Ian grinned, and I knew he was about to launch into a story about his glory days. “I played in college, myself. High school, too.”
“No kidding,” I forced a smile, trying to sound interested. “Never played myself, I was…” I paused, trying to find the right words, “... kind of scrawny back then. Uncoordinated. Didn't get into the gym until my 20s, to be honest.”
Conny gawked. “What? No way! You look like you were born with those arms!”
Oscar snickered. “Yeah, I almost can’t imagine you scrawny, dude.”
“So what did you do in high school?” Vi sat down on the couch next, sipping at her lemonade but not looking at me. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and smoothed out her plaid flannel.
I pursed my lips. I was a nerd who read comic books in class and hid under five layers of the horrible, frilly clothing my mother forced me to wear. But I couldn’t say that. “I was a choir kid.” Not entirely a lie.
Oscar whistled. “No way! Me too, man! What’d ya sing? Wait, no, let me guess!” he squinted at me, looking me up and down. I shrank a little at his gaze, my skin crawling at the mere thought of him sizing me up. “I bet you were a baritone! Am I right?”
He wasn’t entirely wrong. Thanks to T, I did sit right around the baritone to tenor range more recently. I just had to play it off. “Wow, you’re good at that.”
Oscar pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! Did I seriously get it right?”
“So right.”
“Oh, hey, I sing with this local men's choir, you should totally come check us out! We’re always on the lookout for more guys, and since you have previous experience I’m sure they’d love to let you in while you’re up here. It’s something to do, at least.”
The thought of singing with the Chestnut Men’s Choir made me want to actually vomit, but I forced myself to smile anyway. “Thanks, man. I’ll think about it. I haven’t really done anything in a group for a while. Might be fun.”
My eyes traveled back to Duncan, who was at the secretary desk again, the same picture of me in his hands. He was staring at it like he was studying a work of art, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. It was just a picture of us from prom–one where everyone was smiling and I looked like I wanted to die. It wasn’t a good picture, but he seemed obsessed with it.
I slipped behind him. “What about you, Duncan? Any stories of glory from your high school days?”
He must not have been expecting me to creep up behind him, because he totally jumped. The picture slipped from his hands, and he stumbled to catch it. Which he did, much to my chagrin.
It really was a horrible picture.
“Oh, um, not really. I was just on the team with Ian, but I was never really good. I was always better behind a desk.” Duncan carefully set the picture back down.
I looked him up and down, eyebrow raised. “Really? You seem like you’d be good.” I remember watching him play in high school, and while he wasn’t the star player, it wasn’t like he was bad.
Duncan laughed, but it was strained. “Why, cuz I’m tall?”
I shrugged. I couldn’t tell him it was because I had been to all his games, so I kept my mouth shut. “Nah, just… your aura. I know you work with computers but you can be such a jock sometimes.”
“Okay Mr. Goes For A Morning Run Daily,” Duncan teased affectionately.
I rolled my eyes and gave him a shove. “Takes one to know one.”
“Are we going to watch or not?” Ian shouted from the couch, just as the commercials clicked over to the start of the game.
“Alright, alright, I'm coming,” Duncan said as he slipped over to the couch.
I moved to follow him, but paused, looking at the picture once again. It was from Senior Prom, one of the last times I hung out with everyone before today. Oscar had his then-girlfriend on his back piggyback style, with Ian and Connie next to them doing some kind of back-to-back James Bond thing. Vi was in her short sequin dress that was practically exploding with pink tulle and converse, jumping in the air with her mouth wide open like she was yelling.
And then there was me, awkwardly standing to the side in the golden, floor-length ball gown my mother had forced me into. It was low cut, with an illusion neckline that basically choked me, and sleeves covered in horrible, itchy glitter. The gold strappy heels I had to wear for the event peeked out from beneath the pooling fabric of the gown. My eyes were red and puffy from tears, but my parents made me smile for the photograph anyway. My long hair was pulled up into an updo with a single strand pulled down on either side of my face as framing.
Duncan stood behind me, a smile touching his rounded cheeks.
I never noticed before, but his eyes were locked on me.
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