13. Chandler

THIRTEEN

chandler

"What the fuck," I blurted out, looking at my phone screen, jaw on the floor.

Reese, leaning against his sleek black truck, arched an eyebrow in response. "What?"

"Did you see what Caroline wrote about Boston?" I said, my eyes scanning my glaringly bright phone screen once more.

I turned the screen around and he squinted at the words before his lips curved into a smirk. "Oh shit, that a fucking boy. Maybe we are related after all," Reese snickered, and shook his head.

I scowled, unamused by his unnecessary support. "It's not funny, Reese. Why would she say that?"

"Chill, Chandler. She’s probably just messing with him." Reese shrugged.

"No, I'm sure she's not." I pressed my lips together, trying to suppress the unsettling images flooding my mind. The thought of Boston hooking up with her, of him going down on her... I went queasy. It wasn't just disgust swirling in my stomach—it was a searing heat, a rage threatening to boil over. "Why is she so horrible?"

"That's just Caroline," he shrugged. "Trust me, she and I have never gotten along. She's hated me for as far back as I can remember, and anytime I get the chance to piss her off, I don’t hesitate."

"I wish I enjoyed being on her bad side," I said.

Reese leaned against the open door of his truck, arms folded, watching me with an expression that was half mockery, half genuine curiosity. "So, you wanna quit? Or should we keep going?" The corners of his mouth twitched, and I could tell he was barely holding back a full-on grin.

"Quit?" I spat, yanking my gaze from the infuriating message to meet his challenging stare. "Not in this lifetime, Carrington." Climbing into the passenger seat, I crossed my arms over my chest. "We're still playing. And now we're winning."

His smile broke free, lighting up those electric green eyes as he shut the truck door after me and climbed into the driver's seat. I stubbornly turned my attention outside, watching the scenery blur by as Reese pulled out onto the road.

"So, are you going to open the next envelope to tell me where we're going, or am I just going to drive around until you get over the fit you're throwing?" Reese asked.

"Fit? I don't throw fits," I retorted without looking at him, staring out the window. "Strategic displays of displeasure, maybe, but not fits."

"Ah, of course, how could I mistake the two?" he snickered, casting a sidelong glance at me. "Strategically display the next envelope, then?"

"Fine." My response was short, but I was grateful for the distraction. Anything to pull my thoughts away from Caroline and Boston and the nauseating images that were flashing through my mind.

I reached for the envelope and tore it open, sending a shower of paper fragments into my lap. "Let's see what this round brings." I unfolded the note, not giving Reese the satisfaction of seeing me ruffled.

"Swap a clothing item to wear while grabbing a slice at the best pizza place in town," I read aloud. This was going to be interesting.

"Okay, so what are we swapping?" Reese asked in amusement.

I glanced around the truck's interior and spotted his gym bag. "What do you have that's clean?"

"Um," he began, as he kept his eyes on the road but reached in the backseat and rummaged through a bag, pulling out a jersey. "I have this."

I eyed it skeptically. "No, I'm not wearing your jersey. What else do you have?"

"Hm..." Reese looked down, then pointed to the shirt he was wearing. "This? But it's got my last name on it too."

"Holy balls, you really are conceited." I sighed. "Who only has shirts with their last name on it?"

He flashed a grin, all confidence and charm. "I came straight from baseball, what do you expect?"

"Right." I pondered for a moment, biting my lip. "Can I have your shorts?"

"Sure," Reese said with a devilish grin. "But I don't have anything on underneath them."

"Reese!" I exclaimed, half exasperated, half amused. "Why aren't you wearing anything underneath?"

"Again," he replied with a lazy shrug, his eyes locked with mine, "came from practice, just showered."

"Convenient," I whispered under my breath, already plotting the quickest way to win this round of the game. "Give me the damn jersey," I said, slapping my palm against my forehead in despair. Reese tossed it over with a teasing glint in his eye.

"What's in it for me?" he asked, his smirk growing wider. "Your panties?"

"No way in hell, Carrington." I rolled my eyes, glancing down at what I was wearing to figure out what I could offer him. "You can have my socks."

"Chandler, I'm not wearing your smelly ass socks," he said playfully.

"Reese, my socks don't smell bad!" I protested, though I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

"Still, I'm not wearing them." He shrugged.

With a huff, I searched myself for an alternative. An idea popped into my head. I slipped my hand beneath my shirt and slid off my tank top, flinging it at him. "Here."

He caught the piece of cloth, holding it up and eyeing it suspiciously. "How the hell am I supposed to wear this?"

"I don't know, Reese. You're a big boy, figure it out," I teased, knowing full well that the stretchy fabric stood no chance against his broad shoulders.

We parked near the pizza place and Reese, without hesitation, peeled his shirt off. I stole a glance—okay, maybe more than just a glance—at his defined muscles and the way his tanned skin seemed to glow even in the shade of his truck. But I quickly turned away, focusing on anything else.

As soon as we burst through the Derald’s Pizza doors, Parker and Willow dashed out, grinning like they’d just robbed a bank. Their swapped attire was impossible to miss: Willow was drowning in Parker’s Blue Devils shirt, looking surprisingly fierce. The shirt he was wearing, on the other hand said, “A Little Bit Dramatic” across the front.

"Nice shirt, drama queen!" Reese yelled at Parker, a smirk on his face.

Parker spun around mid-stride with his middle finger raised. "You're literally in my sister's purple tank top, Carrington. See you at the finish line!"

I couldn't help but snicker at them, but the competitive fire in me flared. I latched onto Reese's arm, tugging him forward. "Hurry up—they're beating us!"

"We'll catch them," Reese said, but he was already making his way to the counter. I stood on tiptoes to watch over the crowd as Reese ordered. The lady behind the register caught sight of him and did a double take, her lips quivering.

"Can I get two slices? Any kind—whatever is quickest, please. The lady gets feisty when she’s hungry," he said, winking at her.

She nodded, pressing her hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking from suppressed giggles. "Coming right up," she managed to say without bursting into outright laughter.

"Chandler, stop staring. You're not helping my street cred here," Reese teased without looking back at me.

"Your street cred went out the window the moment you put on my tank top," I retorted, but my heart fluttered at the sight of him—so out of place, yet somehow owning the moment entirely.

I was cut off mid-sentence as a collective gasp echoed through the restaurant, all heads turning toward the entrance. Bailey walked in wearing nothing but bright pink polka dot underwear. He strode up to the counter, confidence not faltering for even a second, despite the shocked and amused faces. A moment later, his partner walked in behind him. The smiley face boxers she was wearing actually looked cute on her.

"Wow," I muttered, momentarily forgetting our own clothes swap. Reese turned to see what the commotion was about and let out a low whistle.

"Bailey never disappoints. Had to lose the shirt to get the full effect," Reese said, laughing.

"Guess we've found someone who enjoys the spotlight even more than you do," I teased.

"Okay, let's hurry and take this picture," he said, grabbing the paper plates and turning to me with an impish grin. "Ready?" Reese asked, his arm brushing against mine as he lifted his slice for the photo.

"Smile," I said, and we both leaned in close as I turned and made sure the Carrington name was visible. "Got it," I declared, checking the photo before nodding in satisfaction. "Let’s go"

I grabbed Reese's arm, urgency pumping through my veins as we bolted out of the pizza place. The group chat was blowing up with updates from the others. My gaze immediately landed on the photo of Caroline wearing one of Boston's batting gloves while he sported her bright pink headband. My smile wavered for a second, wondering if my own photo in Reese's jersey might stir up annoyance in Boston. But I shrugged it off—Caroline's tongue comment in the chat had set the bar. "Hey, we've gotta wrap up the last task before sundown," Reese said, casting a glance toward the horizon where the sun was starting to dip low, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

"Right," I agreed, feeling the weight of the day.

"What's the last one?" he asked.

"Alright, it says we need to go to this address," I handed him the slip of paper, "and then, there's a twist."

"Doesn't surprise me." He shrugged, accepting the challenge with a grin as he started the engine.

"Once we get there, we have to... tell each other something no one else knows. Then, we take a selfie and submit it. Apparently, we're staying for some 'Devils’ Day Out' celebration and the winner announcement."

"Something no one else knows?" he echoed as he rubbed his chin in thought.

As we approached the address near the lake, the scenery shifted into something unexpectedly serene. Reese pulled up to a spot that seemed too beautiful to have gone unnoticed before. A long stretch of sand was dotted with pergolas, twinkling lights hanging above casting a warm glow over tables topped with flickering candles.

"Wow..." I murmured, stepping out of the truck. The earthy scent of the lake mingled pleasantly with the crisp evening air.

Reese joined me, and together we stood taking in the view. "Not what I expected from Caroline's twisted game," I said.

"It's... pretty cool." I caught his eye, and for a moment, we shared an unspoken acknowledgment of the day's madness culminating into this final moment.

"Shall we?" I gestured to the water's edge, where we'd likely find the best angle for our selfie.

"Let's do it," Reese agreed, and we made our way closer to the lake, ready to reveal our secrets and capture the moment—a snapshot of vulnerability against a gorgeous backdrop.

"Okay, you go first," I prompted as we approached the lake, the sand shifting beneath our feet. The day had been long and eventful and though it had been orchestrated by Caroline, the final setting was calm and beautiful.

Reese paused, his gaze lingering on the shimmering lake before turning to me. "I want to let her in.”

"Who?" I asked, curiosity piqued.

"My real mom," he said, his tone bittersweet. "I'm thinking about meeting with her." I'd expected his secret to be superficial, some confession about baseball. Not something so important and vulnerable.

But then again, Reese has always been full of surprises, he always kept me guessing.

"You should," I encouraged, touched by his vulnerability. "I know she did something awful, but she's a good person."

"Something awful?" His eyes locked on mine. "Do you know what it's like not having your mom around? When everyone else does? Every milestone, every game... She was never there." His voice cracked, revealing a pain so raw, so deep—I could feel how hurt he was.

I reached for his arm, my fingers brushing against the fabric of his sleeve. "I can't even imagine. I'm sorry. But you’ve missed so much time together already—maybe there's a future where you don't have to miss time with her anymore."

"Maybe," he conceded, with a doubtful shrug. "But anyway, that's something no one else knows. Your turn."

I hesitated, my thoughts swirling. "I want to be an actress," I began, echoing a dream I'd held close for so long.

"Nope, that doesn't count," Reese cut in, a half-smile playing on his lips. "Everyone knows that. Go again."

"Okay," I said, steeling myself. "I’m terrified. Because of you." I let the words spill out without thinking.

"Me?" He frowned, his eyebrows raised in confusion. "Terrified of what?"

"Last summer... you really hurt me," I hesitantly admitted, biting my nail. "And I don't want that to happen again. I'm scared to jump into anything because I don't want anyone to have that power over me."

Reese's expression softened, the lines of his face relaxing as if he truly did understand the weight of my words. He halted mid-step, his gaze locking onto mine, a severity in his eyes that I'd rarely seen. The wind picked up, sending a stray lock of hair into my face. His hand moved almost instinctively, tucking the strand behind my ear.

"Chandler, I'm sorry," he said. "I never wanted to hurt you. Believe me, if I had a choice, we'd still be together."

My chest went tight, but I pushed past it. "You do have a choice, Reese."

He shook his head slowly, disappointment crossing his features. "No, Chandler, I don't." His whisper carried a heavy weight that tugged at the very air between us.

"What does that mean?" My heart raced. I needed to understand.

"I've been a shitty older brother to Boston my whole life. I could have done things so differently..." he paused, looking out over the lake, his expression shadowed by twilight. "We could have worked through this together, but no, I had to be a dick. I took out all the pain from my mom on him. And he loves you. I can't take that from him too."

I held my breath for a moment as I processed his words. "But?—"

"Chandler," he cut in, his gaze intense, "I know what we had, but I think there’s always been something between you two. Look how mad you got about Caroline. Don't worry about getting hurt, and don’t let it hold you back.” He paused, breathed, then continued. “And like I said, if that doesn’t work out, come find me.” He winked.

“When did you get so wise?” I smirked. It was hard to hear, but he was right. I owed it to myself, and to the younger version of me who would faint at the thought of Boston’s attention, to know there was a chance to explore whatever may be between us. Even if I wasn't prepared for it this summer, I needed to figure out what had always lingered between us.

I stood there, thinking about his words, the silence between us stretching out. Despite everything, I saw a Reese that few others did—the thoughtful, kind man beneath his cocky exterior.

"Okay, we did the task," I said, mustering a smile to lighten the moment. "Let's take the selfie."

Together, we angled the phone, capturing our faces against the backdrop of the lake. With a click, the moment was captured, and I sent the photo off into the chat.

We turned back toward the lake. Darkness had settled fully now, punctuated only by the twinkling lights along the shore. More people had gathered, their laughter and chatter growing louder as we walked towards the party. I was suddenly acutely aware of the oversized jersey hanging around me. Reese's jersey—I had been so caught up in the game that I’d forgotten to take it off. I couldn't help but wonder what Boston would think about me wearing someone else’s jersey—Reese's jersey.