After lunch everyone came back to the house and started drinking...a lot.

"Briar Viella Roberts, get your ass in here!" Mya yells, drunkenly as I switch the music from Justin Bieber to a real man, Chris Stapleton, Tennessee Whiskey.

My choice of course, instantly pisses her off as she runs after me wanting the remote. Knowing how fast she is I see Truex laying on the couch watching some sports channel and run up to him lifting the front of his lounge pants, I shove the remote in.

"What the hell?" He asks, confused as I drop the elastic waistband down.

"Keep it there." I demand.

"Oh, come on! Now, no one's gonna want to touch that." Mya, whines.

I nod, in agreement. Rubbing my hands on my legs wishing I had put leggings on instead of pajama shorts. "He definitely doesn't have any panties on." I tell her, shocked.

"Gross!" She gags.

"I know! Who doesn't wear-"

"Don't say, panties. I don't wear, panties." He corrects.

"Yeah, that much we've established." I respond, knowing full well he was talking about the word, panties.

"Give it to me! I'll lick it clean!" Drunk Becca, offers. We gasp in shock, then Mya and I fall to the floor laughing.

Wanting to see if she'd really would do it, I ask for the remote, "Give it." I say, mischievously. Sitting up from my position on the floor next to Truex on the couch.

"Get it yourself." He replies, moving it lower in his pants. My eyes go wide, as he crosses his arms and continues to watch tv.

"I'm not fishing a remote out of your pants." I tell him, as if its the most obvious thing in the world.

"You put it there." He reminds me.

"And you shoved it further down, to your...Uhh, your worm." I reply, chuckling.

"Worm? Really." He smirks, pushing it even lower.

I throw up my hands. "You're crazy if you think I'd do that." I tell him, pointing at his crotch.

Mya stands and stomps her feet, "Its your fault, get it! You put it on repeat! You moron!"

I hold up my hands to both of them, offended. "Okay, I really don't like how you two are trying to make me take responsibility for my actions." I say, about to call Becca to get it out. I look over to see her passed out, with her face on the table. She is going to hate herself tomorrow. "Wake Becca up." I call out to anyone that would listen.

"No. You get it." He states, pointedly.

"Just do it. Its like a bandaid. Make it quick." Mya advises, patting my back and walking away.

"You're gonna pay for this." I tell him ominously. "I'm gonna put something you want down my pants and make you get it." I threaten, sounding exactly like a two year old.

"You already have something in your pants I want, but if you want to put something of mine down there. I'm all for that." He, states suggestively. I narrow my eyes at him, then distastefully at his area.

"Your brother is talking dirty to me." I yell to Mya, telling on him.

"Don't care." She sings.

"Mya, get over here and help." I order.

"I'm not helping you with that." She replies, firmly.

"No, I mean help me get him up!" I clarify.

"What!" She screams. Realizing my phrasing I can't stop laughing.

"Help me make him stand up, and we'll shake him until the remote falls out." I explain, brilliantly.

"Really, thats your plan? He's huge we'd never lift him. Stop screwing around and get it. If I hear this song one more time I'll scream." She warns, turning back to the others.

Refusing to go down his pants I reach over his pants, to where I think the remote is, snatching my hand back when it moves. "Okay, so that wasn't it. We've learned something." I nod, calmly.

He chuckles, but I ignore him. Deciding to get it over with, I feel down the front of him until I find the remote and shimmy it down his pant leg, "Well, that was a little more involved than I planned." I mutter, lifting up the remote. Feeling like I won something monumental for a second, unitl I see the grin on his face. Yeah, I think actually going down his pants would've been faster.

I turn off the music and everyone claps. "How was it?" Tate asks, jokingly from across the room.

"Worth it." Truex answers, adjusting himself and everyone laughs, waking up Becca in the process.

"Here Becca! This needs to be sanitized." I say, waving the remote at her. She perks up making hand motions, basically asking how big Truex was.

"Big, its gross." I answer, honestly walking towards everyone.

"Stop! I don't want to hear this!" Mya shouts, coving her ears.

Her wanting me to stop just encourages me to continue. "I'm certain every woman he's slept with, never lived to talk about it." I add, seriously. Tate laughs the loudest, as Mya squeals. "Where are the bodies, Truex?" I ask, knowing he's not going to answer.

The next thing I know Mya is trying to make milkshakes for everyone and we're all drunk enough to think its a great idea. Sitting on the counter I watch as she makes the first batch and hands them out. When she does the next round I see her start to push the blend button without putting the lid back on. I lean over it covering it with my hands and top half of my body, until I can get it turned off. The front of my shirt and hands are dripping with milk, ice cream and chocolate syrup.

"That's exactly how I wanted mine. Thank you, Mya." One of Tate's, friends jokes, I think his name is Mike. I roll my eyes as everyone laughs and walk to the sink, taking off my sweater to rinse it off. I hear a commotion, as I look over my shoulder to see what it is, a shirt is being put over my head, making me jump.

"I've never seen you move that fast on the off season, Truex." Tate, whistles. I finish putting the shirt on realizing it wasn't the best idea to take my shirt off with the guys right behind me at the table, in my defense I did have on a tank top.

"Thanks." I say, as I start to wring out my sweater. Feeling Truex's glare I ask, "What? I said, thanks." I point out.

"Don't do that again." He warns.

"I don't plan to. Next time, I'll let it go everywhere. This is my favorite sweater." I reply, deliberately misinterpreting his meaning. He walks away still annoyed with me, I can feel it.

"You just had to ruin the view." I hear Mike complain. The room goes silent, I turn to see Truex stalk towards Mike, Tate shakes his head and whispers something to him. He looks nervous and raises his hands in apology. "Sorry! Man, I didn't know." He states, still staying seated at the head of the table.

Mya, looks worried and Tate and the others stand up to stop the fight that looks seconds away from happening. I run towards Truex before he gets to Mike and tug on his arm, not stopping him at all. "Okay, time to go to bed. Come on." I urge, when that doesn't work I try standing in front of him. I hear, the others try to explain that Mike didn't mean it. I vaguely hear Mya tell me to get out of the way and pull on my arm. I've never been so scared for someone else in my entire life. The look on Truex face is complete rage, dead set on hurting someone.

"Please, stop." I beg. "Lets go play hide the remote again." I suggest, anxiously trying to get his attention. He advances bringing up his hands to my shoulders, no doubt to move me out of his way.

He stops and looks down at me. "You're shaking." He tells me, puzzled as to why.

"You're scaring me." I admit, my voice pinched with fear. He stares at me for what feels like an eternity. I don't move, no one in the house does. He bends down slightly, and grabs the back of my legs hoisting me in the air so I straddle his waist, wrapping his arms around me supporting my weight, he turns around without saying a word and carries me down the hall. I see Tate hug Mya, who is visibly shaken so I know she's taken care of, everyone else looks stone cold sober now.

He opens the door to his room and sets me down softly on the thick carpet. "You know I wouldn't hurt you, right?" He questions, seriously.

I nod, "Yeah, but you were about to kill that idiot in there. I'm not strong enough to witness a murder. I like you and all, but I'd roll over on you like that." I say, snapping my fingers.

"I wasn't going to kill him."

I cross my arms not believing a word he just said and look towards the walls, my eyes go big as I get the biggest shock of all. "What are you doing with my paintings?" I demand to know. All 6 six of my paintings that I thought I sold to numerous people from various amateur art shows are hanging, beautifully displayed. I look at him confused waiting for an explanation.

"I bought them." He admits.

"Why? I thought you didn't like my stuff?" I ask, still reeling from the shock and trying to wrap my head around this discovery. He shrugs. "Don't you dare just shrug like that. Did you do it because you felt bad, or did Mya ask you to?" I demand to know.

"He comes to stand next to me. "I like your work. Thats why I bought it."

"Why wouldn't you just tell me? I would've given it to you." I tell him, sincerely meaning it. Even if we don't always get along he is Mya's brother.

I can tell he wants to shrug or not respond at all, so I elbow him in the stomach.

"I didn't want you to know I liked it." He says, simply.

"Why?" I question, truly curious.

"You don't like football. So, I didn't want to like your art." He admits.

"And you call yourself an adult?" I tease.

He scoffs. "What does that make you?"

"A toddler trapped in a woman's body, but I don't pretend to be something I'm not." I state, stepping back from the paintings. "Flynn hasn't called. I think he changed his mind." I tell him. Going to his bookshelf seeing old worn journals and a football on display. "I thought footballs were brown?"

"They are."

"Brown with black dots?" I ask, inspecting the ball closely. Noticing its, marker?

"This is the first football my parents bought for me. I was obsessed with learning everything about it. I counted every dot using a black marker." He explains, picking up the ball.

"No way. How old were you?" I questions, interested in the answer.

"Seven, first grade." He answers.

"And how many are there?"

"5,398." He recalls automatically.

"You counted that high in first grade?" I ask in disbelief.

"Yes."

"And what are these?" I inquire about the journals.

"My notes. I would make my dad go outside in different weather conditions and record how the ball felt, moved and clock the speed of my throws."

"There's so many of them." I say in awe.

He shrugs, "I started at seven."

"You were that focused on football?"

He nods.

"Wow. So, you're super smart? I never would've guess that." I tease.

"Thanks." He glares.

"I was joking." I say, taking down a journal and opening it up. Sure enough the pages are filled out neatly, detailing his experiments. I can't help but smile. "This is so fucking adorable. Like my panties are getting wet, adorable." I state, putting the notebook back. "I have a confession to make." The look he gives me is intense. "Its not bad, relax." I tell him, sensing his tension. "I downloaded a football app on my phone that showed me the score of your game, that big one you played?" I explain, not remembering the name.

"The Super Bowl?"

"Yeah. Even though I didn't watch it, I was rooting for you guys. Does it make you feel better knowing I was supporting you, like you support my work?"

He nods, in response.

"Good. Now, I'm off to bed. Goodnight and don't kill anyone. Remember, I'm not going down for you." I warn, opening the door and going to my room. I close the door behind me and glare at the bed. I'll have to sleep on it, because I refuse to go back out in the living room. Stupid cement bed.