“Whose team should I be on?” Evan asked me.

“Jerom and Gage,” I said, because I felt like Gage would involve him the most, try the hardest to make him feel welcome. He stepped over to the circle forming around them, and I eased off to the sidelines, waiting for my brothers to realize I wasn’t playing.

Gage noticed first and gave me his “What’s the deal?” face. I just smiled. Braden shook his head, as if he still didn’t believe I wasn’t going to participate and now seeing it actually happening made him sick. Finally, Jerom looked over.

“Pick a side, Charlie,” he called.

I was saved when a bubbly voice called, “I’m here.”

Every head turned to look at Amber. Gage nearly tripped over his own feet. She wore some jeans with flip-flops and a tight black tank top that had sparkly words I couldn’t make out written across her chest. It seemed every guy on the field was trying to make out those words too. Her hair was wavy and flowed down around her shoulders.

“Hi, Braden,” she called. Now every head turned toward Braden. He blushed a little and then waved.

She had a foldable camping chair flung over one shoulder, and she took it out of its carrying case and set it up next to me. “If I had known you didn’t have a chair, I would’ve brought one for you, too.”

“I’m good.”

“Do you watch them play a lot?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“And you just sit on the ground?”

What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I say that I usually played with them? Because I felt like if I told her that, maybe it would change her opinion of me. I’d be the weird one. The one who played tackle football with guys.

“Are we going to play, or what?” Jerom asked. And with those words, the game started. If I thought they were going to go easy on Evan at all, I was mistaken. Jerom, in his attempts to throw the ball to Evan, pelted him in the chest, the side of the head, and the middle of the back. He was able to catch a few, and that’s when Braden would tackle him harder than I’d seen him tackle anyone before. I was itching to play now, so I could get back at them.

Amber hummed beside me. “Geez, Charlie, you didn’t tell me your brothers were as pretty as you are.”

“What?”

“Your brothers. They’re very model-esque, with their gray eyes and high cheekbones. They’re beautiful.”

“Um . . . Don’t let them hear you say that.”

“I should’ve guessed with them being related to you and all that they’d be striking.”

I growled, watching the game. I should’ve told Evan to be on Braden’s team so Braden wouldn’t have the opportunity to tackle him like that. “Hold on a minute,” I said to Amber, and stood up from where I had been sitting cross-legged on the grass. After the play was over, I marched up to Braden and, not wanting to embarrass Evan, I said in a quiet voice, “Why are you treating a pickup game like the Super Bowl? Unless you want to get some helmets and pads, lay off, Bruiser. If you tackle him like that one more time, we’re leaving.”

He wouldn’t meet my eyes, but the muscle in his jaw was clenched as tight as could be.

“Why are you so mad at me? What is your problem?” I asked.

“You want to know what my problem is?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

I hesitated now, realizing where we were, but he didn’t stop. He took me by the shoulders and turned me around to face the guys, who were now all staring at us. “By a show of hands,” Braden said loudly, “who here would’ve asked Charlie out in the last six months had they not been given the ‘We will kill you if you look at Charlie’ speech by the three lugs over there when she turned sixteen?”

My first instinct was to yank away from Braden’s grip and never talk to him again. Ever. But the small thread of curiosity weaving through me seemed to have stitched me to the grass, because I couldn’t move.

A few of the guys shifted nervously and glanced at Jerom. Just when I started to feel extremely embarrassed that no one had moved, Tyler raised his hand. His bravery seemed to spur the others forward, because at least half a dozen of them put their hands up. Gage, thinking he was hilarious, had even raised his hand. Braden, I noticed, had both hands still firmly grasping my shoulders.

“Which is exactly why we gave the speech,” Jerom said darkly.

“You don’t have to change for a guy,” Braden said quietly in my ear.

If he thought in some way I’d be touched by this public humiliation, he was wrong. “Thanks, Oprah, I’ll try to remember that.” I looked at Evan. “You ready to go?”

He nodded, rubbing his neck.

Chapter 26

I waved good-bye to Amber, and she didn’t seem at all upset about me abandoning her. I gave Evan a once-over as we walked home. He had a red mark on the side of his neck and one on his bicep—probably from being pelted with the football. A long scratch ran across the back of his hand. Football wasn’t a bruise-free kind of sport, but he looked more beaten-up than normal after a pickup game.

“We have a hot tub,” I said. “That might help.”

“Not sure I want your brothers coming home and finding me in a hot tub with you. See, I didn’t get the ‘We will kill you’ speech, and I’m realizing why guys might steer clear of you if they had. They’re like a force, the four of them.”

“They are, aren’t they?” I sighed. “But they’ll be playing for a while longer, so come on. I’ll find you some swim shorts, get you a couple aspirin, and we’ll relax.”

“I’m only agreeing because this means I get to see you in a swimsuit.”

I blushed and nudged his shoulder with mine.

Up in my room, after finding him one of Gage’s suits and sending him to the bathroom to change, I pulled on my one-piece. He was going to be sorely disappointed. I only wore swimsuits for sport, so it was a pretty boring one.

We met in the hall in an awkward sort of “Do we hold hands on the way to the pool?” exchange that ended with his hand on my lower back. I tried not to stare at his defined chest and abs. So I kept my eyes straight ahead, even though I kind of wanted to see if he had any more welts from the game. No, I wouldn’t look; I was already angry enough at Braden.

I turned on the jets in the hot tub and we slid in.

“So . . . ,” Evan said after a few moments of silence. “Did I fail miserably?”

“No. You were fine. Really.”

“I’m not a huge football player. If it were baseball, I would’ve given a much better showing.” His hand found mine under the water and grabbed it, playing with my fingers.

“You don’t need to excuse yourself over a stupid pickup game. My brothers were going hard on you.”

“Your brothers were fine. . . . It was Braden who had a problem with me.”

“No. He doesn’t have a problem with you. We got in a fight last night. He was angry with me and taking it out on you.”

“Maybe. But it’s more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think he’s jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Of me dating you. I think he likes you.”

I laughed as I thought about the night I accused him of that and he looked like he wanted to die. “No. I assure you. He doesn’t. Seriously, Evan, it’s not like that. He’s just quick to judge. He’ll come around.”

“If you say so.” He leaned in closer. “And what if I did this?” He kissed my cheek, then lingered there. “Would that make him come around faster or slower?”

“Maybe he’d get the point faster,” I said.

“Then this would help even more,” he whispered, and turned my face toward his. I knew he was going to kiss me, and I froze in panic. What if I did it wrong? He met my eyes, seeming to ask permission, but I still didn’t move. He must’ve taken that as consent because his lips met mine. They felt exceptionally soft, and I wondered if that meant mine were dry. I wasn’t sure exactly what to do, which made my stomach drop to my feet. I worried it was obvious. I let him take the lead and it seemed to go okay. I tried to take note of everything he did—the way he moved his head, how he positioned his bottom lip just below mine, the speed of his breath, his hand on my neck—so that next time I’d be better at it.