Page 38 of Scoring Chance

Just confused.

And maybe…hopeful.

But mostly confused.

12

DES

The sun hadn’t even cracked the horizon when I opened my eyes.

For a moment, I forgot where I was. The sheets were warm and soft, and the faint smell of ocean-scented shampoo clung to the pillow beside me. There was a solid shape in the bed—Tanner—facing away, breathing deep and slow, shoulders rising and falling in a rhythm that made me feel oddly…safe.

That’s what threw me. The safety.

I was used to waking up alone. In silence. In my king size bed with my eight hundred thread count sheets in my sleek condo where everything matched and there were no sticky fingerprints anywhere. But here, wrapped in faded plaid sheets, the scent of childhood and chaos clinging to the walls, I felt like I’d crawled inside a photograph from someone else’s life.

My late night conversation with Tanner brought up memories I’d spent years actively forgetting. A hellish home life. My dad confessing that I was the worst kind of accident. But it also reminded me of the warmth and security I felt sleeping on Tanner’s floor, how we’d stay up until three bullshitting about school, life, the future, the universe.

People used to wonder how Tanner and I were such good friends when we seemed so different. He was pensive and sweet; I was a loud but lovable asshole. It worked in that weird way that peanut butter and jelly instinctively go together.

An impulse to turn and spoon Tanner shot through me, but I quickly tamped it down. I’d had those feelings for Tanner for nearly as long as our friendship. They would come and go. Everytime I broke up with someone, or suffered through an awkward morning after, I’d imagine us as a couple. How easy it could’ve been.

Y’know, if I was the relationship type. Which I’m not. Tanner only does serious, though. I think that’s why our friendship works so well. We both know we’re not good romantically for each other, so we’ve never blurred that line.

Even though it’d be quite yummy to do so. I’ve snuck a peek at him in the showers. He’s got a great body, lean muscles padded with some dadbod softness, along with a nice rod.

Quietly, I slip out of bed lest my morning wood turn into actual wood. I don’t want to wake him. He looks peaceful. The poor guy doesn’t get enough sleep as it is.

I tiptoe out of the room, pulling the door closed with a whisper of a click.

The hallway creaks as I move, and for a half-second, I tense, waiting for one of the kids to pop out holding a Nerf gun or something. Nothing. Just the sleepy stillness of early morning.

Downstairs, the house is already lit with that faint gray light that makes everything look soft around the edges. I pad barefoot into the kitchen, expecting to have it to myself.

Wrong.

Davy, Dean, and Lulu sit around the kitchen table staring at me, like some pre-teen mafia waiting for their next mark.

“Morning, Des!” Dean chirps. He shuffles a deck of playing cards, then fans them out for me. “Pick a card.”

“You’re up early.” I nervously take a card. Usually, Tanner is with me for kid coverage. But I am alone with a feeling of being thrown to the wolves.

“We’re hungry,” Davy says.

“Very hungry,” Lulu adds. “Can we have pancakes?”

“Um…sure.” I open the freezer door and sift through the heap of vegetables and ancient leftovers.

“We’re out of frozen pancakes and waffles,” Davy says. “And there’s no more toast.”

I open the pantry door. “Cheerios?”

“We don’t like Cheerios,” Davy informs me. End of discussion. “Dad usually does the grocery shopping today.”

“I’m so hungry. I’m going to starve to death.” Lulu doubles over holding her stomach.

“We don’t want that. Is there any fruit?” I grab a banana from the counter. It’s so brown and mushy that for a second, I worry it’s something else. I chuck it into the trash.