Chelsea M. Cameron - My Sweetest Escape

“Red,” he said, giving me a little bow. “Nice to see you again.” I looked at Hunter, who was trying not to look at me. Something clicked in my brain. Dusty had said he’d see Hunter tomorrow. Well, that day was today. Hmm, Hunter hadn’t said anything about Dusty coming over. Wonder why that was?

“Hey, Sharp!” Mase yelled as something exploded and Dev groaned and threw his controller.

“Hey,” Dusty said, coming in and sitting down on the couch as if he’d done it a million times before. He was also sitting in my spot. “‘Call of Duty’ again? How bad are you losing?”

Mase grumbled as I looked at Hunter. He stepped around me and went to sit back on the recliner. I had no choice but to go and lean against the arm of the couch.

“Oh, Dusty, this is my sister Jos,” Renee said, barely glancing up from the game. She had a one-track mind when she was playing.

“We’ve met,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at me and then back to the game.

“When?” Renee said, moving her whole body as she moved the controller, as if that would make some difference. I’d always threatened to video her while she was doing it for future blackmail use.

“I can’t quite recall. Where was it that we met?” I couldn’t glare at him with everyone watching, so I had to settle for clenching my teeth. He knew very well where we had met. He was totally screwing with me in front of everyone. Oh, two could play that game. I wasn’t a redhead for nothing.

“That’s right. It was at the hospital, and you needed to know the way to the pharmacy. Has the itching on your junk finally gone away?” I stage-whispered the last part and motioned in the general area.

Dusty’s eyes went wide for just a second before they narrowed and a grin spread across his face. Everyone else started laughing nervously, wondering if I was being serious or not. They didn’t know me well enough yet. Of course Renee just rolled her eyes.

“TMI, dude,” Mase said, shaking his head, and Dev tried to slide away from Dusty on the couch.

“Well played, Red. Well played.” He started a slow clap while he laughed. “Yes, my junk is now itch-free.” He shifted on the couch, adjusting his pants. Seriously, how did his pants stay up? It was one of those mysteries science had yet to solve. Like where your missing socks went when you put them in the dryer. He cleared his throat when he caught me staring at his pants. Jesus, he probably thought I was trying to check out his junk. Not that I could even see it...

“On that note,” Hunter said, clearing his throat and giving me a look before grabbing his guitar again. “Okay, requests are now open from anyone but Taylor.”

“Hey!” she protested, glancing up from her book.

“Sorry, Miss, it’s time for someone else to abuse my musical genius.”

“Fine,” she said, going back to her e-reader, but she gave him a little wink before she did it. Everyone else seemed too wrapped up in what they were doing, or was busy trying to think of a song.

“‘Sunday Morning,’” I blurted out. It was the first thing that came to mind.

Hunter looked up from the guitar. “Maroon 5?”

“Yeah.” He smiled and looked over at Dusty. “Can you give me a beat on that?” Dusty nodded and sat up. After thinking for a second, he started making sounds with his mouth. Not just sounds. Beat boxing. Hunter listened for a second and then started strumming as Dusty layered on more sounds until it was like he was creating an entire percussion section for the song with only his mouth.

I couldn’t stop my eyebrows from rising, but no one else seemed surprised. Dusty turned his head, and I made my face neutral, but he still sort of grinned at me anyway. Cocky much? Hunter started singing, and I tried to find a comfortable way to lean on the arm of the couch while also pretending to be interested in the explosions and chaos happening on the television. I would rather set my hair on fire than ask Dusty for his seat, or give him the satisfaction of going to the dining room to get a chair. Should have just stayed in my cave.

Okay, so Dusty was really good at beat boxing, not that I was an expert, by any means. He made sounds with his mouth that I didn’t know a human could make. So what? There were a million people online who could do the same thing. It wasn’t anything special. It wasn’t anything to swoon over. He wasn’t anything to swoon over.

They finished the song, and Dusty did a fancy noise that sounded like a cymbal crash and reverberation.

“Good enough for you?” Dusty said, turning to face me.

“Meh,” I said, shrugging one shoulder and turning back to the television as Renee screamed and jumped up and down and all the guys groaned and threw their controllers down.

“Take that, bitches,” Renee said, pointing at them. “In your face.” She started doing a dance that was somewhere between slutty club dancing and a weird touchdown dance hybrid. The guys all booed and threw things at her. I just shook my head. That was my sister.

“I’m hoping those moves are genetic,” said a voice so close that I slid off my perch on the arm of the couch. Luckily, I was able to catch myself before my butt hit the floor. Everyone else was too distracted by Renee’s victory dance.

“You know it’s rude to sneak up behind people,” I said, turning to face Dusty, who had somehow managed to get off the couch and creep up behind me.

“You know it’s rude to tell everyone that a fellow has a rash on his dick when he doesn’t.” He crossed his arms and leaned down, challenging me. “So what do you have to say to that, Red?”

Yeah, should have stayed in my cave.

“Nothing. I have nothing to say to you.”

Fortunately, Mase interrupted us.

“Little Ne, you want to take a turn?” The video-game-master gene seemed to have skipped me and just been concentrated in Renee. I turned away from Dusty. Hunter was watching us with fascination. Ugh, that was the last thing I needed.

“No, I’m good,” I said, stepping around Dusty and taking the seat he’d vacated on the couch and claiming it as mine. I shot him a smile, and he just pretended to clap again before going to the kitchen and dragging in one of the dining room chairs.

* * *

Renee was still kicking ass when my phone rang with a call from Mom. Just what I needed. I got up from the couch and headed for my cave. No way I was talking to her in front of everyone.

“Hey, Mom.” I heard screaming in the background, but that was par for the course. Mom always called me when she was doing a million other things.

“Hey, Jos.” Her voice was tense, but less tense than it had been earlier in the week. We’d somehow made our way onto less-shaky ground, but that didn’t mean she was any less pissed at me. “You ready to start classes tomorrow?” A shriek meant that she was probably taking something away from one of the twins.

“As I’ll ever be.” I didn’t have a choice. They wouldn’t even let me drop out when I’d suggested it as a potential solution to my academic implosion. I could get a place and a job and then they’d get off my back. I wouldn’t waste their money—or the government’s. Win-win situation. Or so I’d thought. Mom had acted like I’d just told her I’d brutally slaughtered a bunch of people, and Dad just hung up on me when I pitched it to him after striking out with her. And Renee had threatened to strangle me for even mentioning it.

“Well, I want a full report when you get back, you hear? I swear, if I get a call from your sister telling me that you’ve skipped, there will be hell to pay.”

“I know, I know.”

“Okay, then. No, you cannot have cookies for dinner. How many times do I have to tell you that?” I waited for her to be done yelling at whichever of my siblings had the audacity to want cookies for dinner.