Games We Play by Angel Lawson

Author:Angel Lawson [Lawson, Angel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

21

Kenley

I wait in the kitchen for Ezra, feeling a little guilty about being inside while the rest of my classmates hustle to get the float finished. Not guilty enough to go out there though, it’s cold and Ezra’s kitchen is cozy and warm. Plus, if I hang around long enough, maybe I’ll get another kiss.

That boy does something to me, like strips away my inhibitions. I mean, I seriously gave him a hand job in the storage closet at school. Me! Kenley Keene, good girl, responsible, excellent student.

It feels good to put on a different hat.

I lean against the cabinet, next to the Baxter’s sub-zero refrigerator. The whole kitchen is wasted on two bachelors—one who is barely ever home. On the wall I see a board—the kind you see in almost every house. The Viking football schedule hangs on it with a marble-shaped magnet, along with a sheet with orderly phone numbers and passwords. A small cubby is affixed to the board, filled with business cards. My nosey nature takes over, and I pick up the cards, starting to look through them when the back door opens.

Busted, I rush to put them back in the slot, but fumble, tucking them in my back pocket instead.

“Oh, Kenley,” Mr. Baxter says, strolling into the room holding two red party cups. “Do you need help with something?”

“I’m just waiting on Ezra. He was looking for duct tape.”

He nods and walks to the refrigerator, opening the door and pulling out a bottle of wine. I shift over, feeling obtrusive, but he doesn’t seem bothered by my presence as he fills the cups.

“You know,” he says, corking the wine. “I’ve missed having you around here.”

“Oh really?” I had no idea he noticed. “I’ve enjoyed hanging out with Ezra again. He’s a good guy.”

He chuckles. “Good may be an overstatement, but you’ve always seen the best in people.”

“Not always,” I admit. “I was worried about Ezra for a while. He really seemed like he was struggling.”

“Selling weed to high schoolers isn’t really struggling. It’s called poor life choices.” He takes a sip of wine. “He was acting out in reaction to the divorce and the fact he had to man-up for the first time in his life. He’s a talented athlete. I just hope he didn’t waste too much time fucking around.”

His eyes dart to mine, like he’s waiting to see how I react to his language. I don’t.

“That’s in the past—or so I hope,” he continues. “You should come out on the boat some time, get some sun.”

“That sounds nice. I’ve seen pictures of you guys—with the Wallers and Chandlers. It looks like a really good time.”

He takes a step closer. “Make no mistake, Kenley, my son’s success is important to me. The next two games are the most important in his life—after that, it’s just icing.”

“Okay,” I say, trying to hide the nervous tremble in my voice.

“All high caliber athletes need a…release…before or after a big game. Helps steady the nerves and channel extra energy.

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