TYSON CAINE: Book 1 in the Brothers in Arms Series (Brothers in Arms Book 1) (6 page)

My first instinct is to laugh. The sight before me is hilarious—to see a tough, cocky guy like Tyler running around screaming like a damn girl.

I hold my stomach I’m laughing so hard. Tommy is laughing too.

“Oh God, Ty, my chest hurts from laughing so hard. What the hell is wrong with Tyler?” Thomas asks.

I manage to shrug my shoulders as I’m still laughing.

Then I see it.

On Tyler’s back as he turns around is the biggest damn spider I have seen in my seventeen years. It is a hairy monster, and it’s stuck onto his shirt.

Brooklyn comes up next to me gripping my arm and mouths, “Shit.”

“Jesus Christ!” Tommy calls out as he sees it not long after I do.

“What, is it still on me? Can you see the bastard?” Tyler asks Tommy still frantic and jumping like a wild person.

“Um, yeah, I can see it—it’s hard to miss,” Tommy replies still laughing.

“Just stay still, Tyler. I will get it off you,” I state trying to keep calm, while still unsure how the hell I’m going to get the eight-legged monster off.

“Where is it?” he asks, spinning around and looking over his shoulder. God, I wish we were recording this for YouTube.

“Maybe I can hose it off,” I say thinking out loud. I run to the tap and unwind our hose.

“Hurry the fuck up! It has fangs, man. What if it injects me with venom?” Tyler says grabbing his head looking totally stressed.

I chuckle loudly. “It’s not venomous, dude,” I tell him.

I hold the hose pointing it in his direction and turn the nozzle so it is on hard jet spray.

“Okay, turn around and keep still,” I instruct as I aim it in his direction.

Turning it on, I shoot the water onto Tyler’s back, hitting the spider. But it’s not budging; it is well and truly holding on for its life.

“Did it work? Is it gone?” Tyler questions, looking wet and desperate.

“Shit, it didn’t work. The bastard won’t let go,” I reply shaking my head. “Turn around and I’ll spray it again.”

“What the hell are you three up to? I should have known you wouldn’t take this seriously,” Dad states coming up behind us looking furious.

“Dad, check out Tyler’s back. It’s the biggest spider ever,” Tommy tells him and points.

Dad looks over at Tyler and then heads over to get a better look. “I’ve seen bigger,” Dad replies, and he reaches his hand out toward it.

Without even flinching, he grabs it between his thumb and forefinger and removes it easily from Tyler’s shirt.
Oh my God, how did he do that? What if it had bitten him?

“Wow, Dad, you are awesome,” Tommy calls out as he walks over and checks out the spider a little closer, but still leaving a distance.

“Maybe you should put it on the tree down the fence,” he says as Dad is wandering off.

“No, these guys are good for nothing,” he declares and places it on the concrete where he stomps on it with his steel-toe boots.
He squashes it over and over again.

Well, shit. I didn’t want the guy as a pet, but I don’t think it deserved to die. These are the kind of unjust things Dad always does—it really blows my mind.

****

“It’s four o’clock, and you guys have impressed me today. This is the kind of behavior I want from my sons,” Dad announces.

Hallelujah, my muscles are starting to ache, and my blisters are stinging. I need to shower and relax.

“You guys are free to go on one condition,” Dad adds as we all pack his tools into his metal toolbox. “Have a beer with your old man first.”

Dad has had seven of them since lunch, and he is pretty lit. Doesn’t he realize that the legal drinking age is twenty-one, and we’re not even close?

“Sure thing,” Tommy answers excitedly.

“I’ll let you have one, Tom, but don’t get any ideas. You are too young to drink away from home,” Dad proclaims.

Tyler heads inside and returns with four beers before handing them out.

“To my sons,” Dad says as we clink our bottles, then take a sip. 

“Cheers, Dad,” we all say in unison. We drink our beers in silence. For the first time in a long time, we have actually bonded the way sons should with their father.

We eagerly jog from my truck onto the lush green field. Practice tonight is all about the plays and strategies since Monday’s session was fitness and weights in the gym.

It’s getting so close to game time, fourteen days… not that I’m counting.

“You know the drill, guys, two laps to warm up,” Coach announces as we stretch our hamstrings and calves, then our arms, neck, and shoulders.

Jacob and I start the run together. We have been doing the same run for the last four years. Our legs are in sync with each other, our shoes hitting the grass that has been cut nice and short to avoid rolling ankles or other injuries.

My mind wanders to Dad at a younger age. He was a state runner back in his day. One thing I’ve realized when I run for long periods is that you need to get into the zone. You have to find that place in your mind where you can switch off and just focus. It’s mental and psychological.

Maybe Dad needs to take up running again. It might clear his mind and make him happier.

I have no doubt Jacob is faster than I am, but we run at the same pace, and it’s enjoyable. The times I’ve run with Tyler, he has to win and get the glory, even at something as silly as a warmup run.

It’s all about getting the blood flowing and loosening our joints, getting our muscles warmed up to avoid injury.

Tyler is the first one to make it back to Coach.
Typical.

Culture Beat’s “Mr. Vain” comes to mind or “You’re so vain.”

“Okay, the first play we’re going to run is called ‘blast.’ Tyson, as our fullback, you take the lead, Buzz takes a quick handoff from Tyler and finds a gap between their offensive guard and defense. This will work for us when we need a yard or two for the first touchdown. We gotta get up the field before the middle linebacker tackles,” Coach explains in detail and draws a diagram on his mini whiteboard
. I’m very happy Coach picked the play I gave him at our last training session.

Two hours later, Coach blows the whistle. We are all dripping with sweat, and our legs feel like jelly after running what must have been a hundred miles.

Thank fuck for that.

“Okay, team, gather around,” Coach announces calling us all in, then he gives us a pep talk.

“The first game is always a big one. You gotta reach deep down inside and find the fire that will help fuel you on the field.” His words are deep and meaningful.

“Everybody wants to win—it’s a fact, it’s human nature. Victory is sweet boys; let’s make it ours and taste its sweetness,” Coach tells us sounding determined.

There is something about Coach’s words tonight. I feel the fire inside me start to fuel the want and hunger for victory.

Everyone wants to be remembered for something great. Is it my time to shine? Is it Tyson Caine’s time for greatness?

My thoughts are then distracted by the blasting music of The Pussycat Dolls. I was oblivious to the girls starting to arrive for cheerleading practice. There are different volume levels, yet they have the CD player blasting. I roll my eyes in annoyance when I spot Chelsea and her bimbo friends. Of course, they are on the cheerleader squad. They’re squealing and giggling like immature girls while practicing their moves.

What is it about cheerleaders? I seriously find them so fabricated and obnoxious with their super short outfits and boobs pushed up to the sky. It’s fake and such a bimbo way to show off. It’s like God told these girls, “You have no brains, so don’t waste your time on school. Just get yourself a revealing uniform and cheer your heart out.”

Billy Joel can keep his uptown girls, I don’t want them. God, I love Billy Joel. I used to steal Mom’s CD and play it on replay. I know it was kind of odd for a ten-year-old back then, but I liked it.

I’m sure some cheerleaders in the world are smart and successful. But the girls here in Indiana are bordering on hookers. If my own brother hadn’t slept with more than half of them, I might sugarcoat it, but nah, they are easy like Sunday morning. 

Much to Tyler’s disgust, I’ve been “desperate and dateless” all these years—his words not mine. I just haven’t found a girl I’m interested in that way.
Well, I have, but I’m not sure whether to act on my feelings. It might be the worst decision of my life if I do and it doesn’t end well.

****

The next afternoon, I take advantage of our quiet house. I need some advice, so, of course, I ask my mom.
Surely women understand other women?

“Hey, Ty, how was your day?” Mom asks me as I stroll through the front door after school. My brothers are at their friends’ houses until five.

“Same as yesterday, nothing special,” I answer truthfully. “Can I ask you something, Mom?” I question, feeling a little nervous.

“Of course. I’m always here, baby,” she replies squeezing my shoulders.

“Do you think that friends can turn into something more?” I ask her and wonder if she realizes that I’m talking about Brooklyn and me.

“Of course, they can. Feelings take time to develop. People change and grow just like emotions mature and hormones increase,” Mom replies with just the right response. It’s factual and suitable to our situation.

“If two friends take it to the next step, there’s no guarantee it won’t end badly, though, is there? If it ends badly, then the friendship is over,” I state feeling a little morbid thinking about it.

“That’s the thing about life, Ty—there are no guarantees. But one thing I’ve learned is to have no regrets. You have to grab the bull by the horns and take chances. If you never try, then you will never know.” Mom’s answer is perfect.
Life is short, so what’s the point in denying yourself something that could make you deliriously happy.

“That’s true. I’ve always thought the same way. It’s like looking for treasure—if you don’t climb the mountain, then you might miss what is on the other side,” I state.

“I knew we had brought you up the right way, Tyson,” Mom adds smiling a wide, loving smile and hugging me tight.

“Come on, Brooklyn. Why the hell are you so against dating?” my BFF questions me looking puzzled. “Like seriously, woman, we are seventeen—it’s all about parties, having fun and hooking up with guys. Can’t you just live a little?” Cassie pleads.
We talk about this a lot.

“God, you are making me out to be some prude who has never been kissed. I have even been to second base. It’s not like I’m against dating, I just haven’t found anyone who I want to date,” I declare defending myself.

“Is that the truth? Or are you hung up on a certain male friend whose name starts with a T?” She stirs me, and part of me thinks I should just tell her the truth and she will leave me alone. But knowing Cassie, it would be the opposite, and she would be throwing me in the deep end.

“No way. We are just awesome friends. We have heaps in common and like to hang out,” I reply.

“Yeah, yeah. I know all of that Brooklyn, but I see the way you both look at each other. There is more between the two of you than either one of you wants to admit,” she answers blatantly.

I just shake my head and roll my eyes. It’s infuriating how well my best friend knows me.
I will admit to nothing.

Cassie heads to her sewing class, so I’m in the library on a free period, and it is way too quiet. My brain starts replaying our conversation about my feelings for Tyson. Does Cassie really believe that Tyson has feelings for me too?

Well, sure, I like Tyson more than I should, but we can’t go there, so it’s off-limits.

I need to snap myself out of it. I can’t and won’t go there with him. Our friendship means the absolute world to me, and I would never do anything to jeopardize it.

I actually think that Cassie is right. I really need to start dating. That is the only way to put myself out there. Maybe I will find someone else, and Mr. Right might be just around the corner.

If he’s not, then I guess I will see if I have real feelings for Tyson. I’m not ruining our friendship if we don’t have a real connection. What better way to see than to try out a few other guys?
What do I have
to lose?
I send my BFF a text.

Me:

I’m ready to hook up.

Less than twenty seconds later, my phone beeps.

Cassie:

Squeal! I have the perfect guy for you! We are going on a double date on Saturday night.

Holy shit, that was quick. The whole random guy thing scares the crap outta me. I should say no and make up an excuse, but you only live once, right? So I reply.

Okay.

It’s do or die.