He Shoots, She scores

Chapter Twelve: Weston | Mixed Feelings

            I'm busy cleaning weeks old alcohol stains from the kitchen (one of the reasons I regret hosting that party) when there's a knock on the front door. I regret opening it the second I see who it is.

"What are you doing here?" I scowl at John.

"Hello West." I notice he's wearing a dress shirt. "I'm here for Gracie." He starts peering over my shoulder.

"For-" Now it's my turn to scowl. "Gracie? As in my Gracie?" The words slip out of my mouth before I can help it.

John barks out a laugh. "She's not your Gracie."

Footsteps come clacking behind me. I turn around and spot Gracie coming down the stairs. I'll admit- she cleans up nice. A little too nice. 

Before I know it, I'm shutting the door in John's face. I stride up to Gracie. "Oh, hey!" she cheers. "Like my outfit?" I'd think anyone with a set of eyes would. She's wearing a tight-fitted pink dress. The neckline is on the shorter side and the dress itself cuts above her knee. Gracie is struggling to maintain her balance with those two-inch heels.

"Why is John outside our door?" I jerk a thumb behind me.

"Oh, is John here?" Another fake, innocent smile cuts my way. "I thought I heard his voice."

"Don't tell me he's taking you out." For some reason, the thought of them together boils my blood. I can't pinpoint why. But I just know that seeing Gracie like this, in a dress like that, with an asshole like John, is the wrong equation. As much as I hate to admit it, she's too good for him. Of course I don't say that. I can't. So instead I settle for: "I told you my teammates were off limits. John doesn't need a distraction right now."

"What are you, my father?" She scoffs. "Move."

And then I'm left staring as she walks right out the door, hand in hand with John, all the way to his car.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Later that night, I'm pacing around the living room. I feel like an old grandpa just waiting and waiting for Gracie to arrive home. Eli and RJ are downstairs with me, watching and laughing at my reactions. "Dude, would you calm down? You're leaving trace marks on the carpet!" Eli complains. He's lounging on the couch, busy working on a lab report on his laptop.

"It's been hours. Why aren't they home yet?" I glance with paranoid through the blinds.

RJ is mindlessly scrolling through the channels on TV. "John probably took her to a movie or something."

"Yeah" Eli adds. Without glancing up from his screen, he asks, "What's gotten into you, anyways? Just last week you were dying to kick her out, and now suddenly you're Mr. Protective?"

"I told you." I rub my eyes. "Gracie's just gonna be a distraction to the team. We're in the middle of playoffs. I can't afford our hard work to go down the drain."

Eli gives me this smirk that's signifying something I don't like. "You sure that's the only reason why?"

I clench my jaw. "What are you trying to say, Jones?"

I hear the rumble of a car outside. A streak of golden headlights peers through our windows. My feet make their way to the door. Eli stands up alongside me. Pats me on the shoulder. "Imma let you figure it out first, knucklehead."

When the front door opens, they're giggling. It makes me sick. I approach John first. "Where the hell have you two been?" I demand. "It's almost midnight." Behind me, RJ lets out a loud snort.