Page 10 of Not that Impressed (Houston Pumas #3)

ELLIE

I don’t know what to think about Will right now.

He scowled at me the whole way through helping pack school supplies at Janelle’s charity drive, but now he’s rescuing me?

I think that’s what just happened? His question was aggressive, but an obvious subject change.

One minute I was deciding if I was going to put Kara in her place and detail exactly what my exercise regimen and menu from the show’s trainers and nutritionist looks like or if I was going to be quiet because Janelle likes her—The next minute Will is bringing up my pet project.

Things just feel weird.

Coco has alternated between hovering beside Janelle and me, and when she pads over to me again, I let my fingers trail into her fur. She leans her weight against my legs in a comforting way. Why can’t Charlie’s dog be the only best friend he needs? Coco accepted me without judgment from day one.

As we all sit down around the table, I catch sight of the bakery boxes again and scrutinize them. Will and Kara have some sort of inside joke about them. I’m not convinced their relationship is entirely platonic.

I end up sitting next to Kara on one side of the table and Will is across from us. From me, to be precise. Maybe there’s a whole brother’s-best-friend thing going on here and they’re trying to throw Charlie off.

I push the thoughts out of my head and focus on dishing up my food. I do not care about Will and Kara’s secret relationship.

Whatever’s going on, the peanut butter cookies are for Janelle. He’s probably trying to be friends with her because Charlie told him to play nice.

I can concede that it was a nice thing to do.

Kara’s voice snaps me from my thoughts. “Basically, you’re trying to convince us Being the Bennets is all a lie.” She’s looking at Janelle. Responding to something I missed? Kara’s smiling, but there’s an edge to it, like when she insinuated that I can eat whatever I want.

“Not all a lie,” Janelle replies easily, reaching for her water to take a sip.

“But not really the truth,” Will says, his tone unreadable. He scoops some pork onto a gourmet bun Janelle brought and sits back in his chair.

“It’s a television show,” I interject. “Meant to entertain. Of course there’s more drama than real life.”

Will tilts his head at me, his eyebrow going up in a challenge. “So … fake.” His gaze flickers to Charlie and something passes between them. It’s not surprising they have a silent language the same way Janelle and I do. They’re close, and they’ve been playing football together a long time.

“Crafted,” I argue. “Just like everything you put out there on social media or in interviews or whatever about you,” I can’t stop myself from adding.

I clasp my hands together over my plate and lean forward, zeroing in on Will.

What am I doing? I know better than anyone that the narrative Being the Bennets portrays to the world isn’t the whole story.

If Charlie had brought this up, I would have agreed. Why do I let Will push my buttons?

Will stiffens .

“Well,” Kara breaks in with a falsely light voice, “he’s not starting fights with Charlie so his videos go viral.” She laughs, and I join her just to get under her skin. Janelle shoots me a look since she knows what I’m doing. I make a quick circle on my chest with my fist, saying Sorry .

“I’ve never tried to make people think I’m someone I’m not,” Will defends himself. He’s sitting back in his chair, but his arms are folded warily.

“Sure, yeah. Your story on social media is precisely who you are: the guy who had to work his tail off his whole life to make it.” I force my tone to be casual, conversational. Pretend this isn’t a confrontation.

“Exactly,” he says.

“Whose parents paid thousands for elite camps and moved you across the country to one of the best football high schools there is,” I add. My turn to raise my eyebrow in challenge.

Will blinks at me. His expression is tight, but he’s not scowling. Maybe contemplative? It’s hard being on this side of someone who schools their expressions so carefully.

“I thank my parents for their sacrifices for me all the time.” The way he keeps eye contact is intimidating, and probably quite effective on the field. There’s a touch of broodiness to his expression, and if I hadn’t already committed to hating him, I’d think it was sexy.

“Yeah, I know.” I lift my knife and fork from the sides of my plate and move to cut my pulled pork sandwich in half.

“I must have missed the posts and interviews where you talked about how much they paid for the recruitment video they had made for you that could have won an Oscar in filmography.” I can’t help my smirk.

Will lifts a hand to his chin, still studying me like he can stare me into submission.

Like every quarterback he faces on the field, he’s going to have to come at me head on.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and tilting his head like he’s considering my point that he also crafts his story .

That’s … unexpected.

It’s Charlie who laughs. “Didn’t the director who made your video go on to make that movie about the soccer player, right?” he jokes. Will releases me from his stare to roll his eyes at Charlie. “I should’ve sent out your video to colleges,” Charlie goes on. “I got enough screen time in it.”

“You went to the same high school, right?” Janelle asks. She doesn’t bother looking at Will. Her eyes are all for Charlie.

“Yeah, but my recruitment video wasn’t as impressive. My dad’s cousin did mine as a favor. Gave him a ‘deal.’” Charlie widens his eyes. Janelle laughs, and as I relax and cut off a bite of my sandwich, I catch Will still watching me.

He’s not glaring. That’s an improvement, I guess.

“Bless his heart,” Kara says. “He used PowerPoint.”

“He didn’t!” Janelle cries.

“Luckily Will put in a good word for me with the Clemson coaches.” Charlie heaves a big sigh in faux relief, grinning the whole time.

Will shakes his head. “Your stats spoke for themselves.” His voice is gruff, but there’s some red in his cheeks.

“Because you got them to look at my stats.” Charlie doesn’t let up.

I catch Will’s eye again, but this time he’s the one who looks away uncomfortably.

Charlie guides the conversation through the rest of dinner, and though my sister is quieter than usual, she’s besotted with Charlie. She stares at him whenever he talks, and he’s so animated and naturally excited I don’t blame her.

I try to catch her eye in the middle of one of Charlie’s stories about him and Will playing football in college so I can silently ask her what she thinks is up with Will.

I’ve even figured out how to stealthily sign a question to her in case she doesn’t get my silent communication.

But all her attention is for Charlie, and her gaze doesn’t even stray from him.

Except, she looks kind of pale and tired. Strange, because it’s only a quarter after nine. Also, she hasn’t made a move for the peanut butter cookies. That’s the oddest thing of all. She might be full from the great dinner Charlie and Kara prepared, but my sister sense says there’s more.

I get up and go into the kitchen for a cookie. When I make my way back, I stop by Janelle’s chair. “Everything okay?” I murmur.

Charlie glances over at us, but he doesn’t pause in his story or draw attention to Janelle.

“I don’t feel great,” she whispers back.

“You want to go?”

She gives me a pitiful smile. “No,” she whines, looking over at Charlie and smiling again.

I chuckle, squeeze her shoulder, and go back to my chair. When I catch Will looking at me again, his expression has shifted ever so slightly, and he holds my gaze long enough that I see concern.

That feels right. Everyone likes Janelle, so if he’s picked up on the fact that she seems off, concern is natural. Sometimes I get a little jealous that America adores my sister, and maybe even right now as I watch Will’s eyes dart toward her.

“Um, excuse me,” Janelle suddenly says, shoving back her chair and popping up out of it in the middle of Kara saying something. I have no idea what it was. I haven’t been paying attention to her. I follow Janelle as she hurries down the hallway toward the bathroom.

I reach the door of the bathroom in time to hear my sister puking, Charlie right beside me.

“What does she need?” he asks, brows pulled down in concern.

“I’ll let you know,” I promise. I pull open the door just enough to slip inside and kneel next to her, taking her hair from her shaking hands and using the hair-tie on my wrist to pull her thick curls back from her face and out of the way .

I stand to grab a washcloth from a basket on the counter and wet it, then kneel back down next to her.

She leans over the toilet for what feels like forever.

“Food poisoning?” I ask when she hasn’t thrown up for a full thirty seconds.

She shakes her head. “I was feeling … off before we came. But I didn’t want to cancel.” Her voice sounds spent.

There’s a soft tap on the door, but though she isn’t puking, Janelle doesn’t move. “This is so embarrassing,” she whispers.

“No way,” I whisper back.

“Is she okay?” Charlie asks when I open the door and slip out. Coco hovers next to him, shifting back and forth anxiously. Janelle will not want Charlie to see her like this, even though his pleading expression says he desperately wants to be the one comforting her right now.

“She’s sick,” I confirm with a grimace.

“Something at dinner?” Charlie’s eyes widen with dismay.

I shake my head. “She doesn’t think so.”

He nods but doesn’t seem convinced that he’s not to blame. “There’s a guest room just down this hall, if she wants to lay down.”

“I’ll tell her.”

He holds out a bottle of water. “Let me know if she needs anything.” I try not to smile at him. My sister is miserable, but I can’t help but melt at him hoping to be any help at all.

“I will.” I slip back into the bathroom. “Want to try to drink something?” I ask her softly.

To which Janelle answers by throwing up again.