Dangerous Play

2 » nothing to chauffeur it

I rolled out of bed with a wince on Saturday morning, moving slowly to avoid aggravating my poor legs. Coach had really done a number on us yesterday. Cons of having a game-free weekend; he was free to beat us up as much as he wanted during practice that week.

Finn and I were supposed to be picking up our parents from the airport at two this afternoon, so I had several hours to kill. I grabbed a granola bar for breakfast and decided to knock out some homework. We'd only been back in school for a week and teachers had somehow already decided it was okay to pile on the assignments.

Around noon, I wandered into our luxurious kitchen, the one area of the house where our parents had spared no expense. The marble countertops were always perfectly polished and gleaming, the refrigerators and cabinets were always well-stocked, and every cooking utensil known to mankind hung from organized racks around the spacious area.

I gathered ingredients for lunch. Finn and I had both learned to cook at a young age, thanks to our parents' culinary interests, so they'd begun leaving us at home from a young age, never worried about us starving when they traveled to expand their business. Of course, as we grew older, there were other concerns with leaving the two of us in the house alone, but we tried our best to make sure they never found out about those adventures.

As I began boiling water to make fettuccine, I heard the front door open and slam shut. Finn stumbled into the kitchen raggedly, Kieran close behind. Both boys looked worse for wear. Finn's shirt was both wrinkled and inside out, and a large hickey stood out in dark contrast against the pale skin of his neck. Kieran seemed more put-together—at least, all of his clothes were oriented correctly—but the furrow of his eyebrows suggested that he was in more pain than he let on.

"Morning, boys!" I chirped. "Or should I say, afternoon?"

Finn groaned. "Can you not be so goddamn chipper right now?" He slumped into a stool at the island, burying his face in his arms.

I laughed. "Would lunch make you feel better?"

He perked up. "That would be amazing."

"Then make it yourself," I said sweetly, turning to check on my alfredo sauce. "This is for me."

"Fuck you," he muttered. "I didn't even call you for a ride last night."

Kieran snorted. "Yeah, 'cause you were too busy getting a ride from—"

"I changed my mind! Shut up about last night and whatever mess you got up to and I'll make you both lunch. Sound good?" I did not want to hear those details. Ever.

The boys nodded. I got to work, preparing a couple extra ingredients and tripling the size of the portions I had planned on making. Less than half an hour later, I set three plates of steaming fettuccine alfredo down on the counter: two with chicken, for the boys, and one with spinach and mushrooms for myself.

Finn practically lunged for the food, stuffing his face immediately. "You're the best sister ever," he mumbled through a mouthful of pasta.

Kieran nodded, taking a smaller bite. "Thanks, Abby."

I sat down across from them, savoring the rich flavors as I ate. "Don't expect this to become a common occurrence. So, who all was at this party?"

"I thought you didn't want to hear about it?" Finn asked.

"I don't want to hear about who you screwed last night. I was just wondering who was there." 

"I mean, most of the team was there," my brother said. "Cairo, Ashton, Luke, Maddox, Henry, and some of Cairo's school friends." He sighed wistfully. "Like Eden."