Year 28 - J.L. Mac Page 0,74

is no more avoidable than taxes and death. Anyone that swears to not be the “jealous type” is full of shit or has deluded themselves enough to actually believe that they aren’t the jealous type and in that case they are in fact both jealous and mental. Everyone gets envious. Even me. Even Sylas judging by the scowl he was wearing in the truck on our way to pick up Mrs. Oppenheim’s grocery order. However, unavoidable or not, jealousy is a vile toxin, capable of producing devastating effects on people. It skews judgment and clouds normally clear minds. It turns an average person into an over-confident-bad-choice-machine. I would know.

Sylas is walking out of the store, one bag hooked on his arm when someone shouts at him. “Hey Sy!” a petite brunette woman shouts from across the grocery store parking lot. It’s a good thing the windows in his truck are rolled down because I’d die sitting here without the breeze coming through the open windows. Sy stops by the hood of his truck and turns to see who has called him. She scurries over to Sylas with a little boy at her side. His small hand is folded in hers and his wide brown eyes peer at Sylas with pure adoration. For a moment my mind takes a jealousy-induced foray into considering the notion that Sylas could have a kid. This little guy could be his.

“Oh, hey Lisa,” Sy says, wrapping his arms around her for a hug. He lets her go first. I can tell by her hesitation that if he’d wanted to hold on to her, she would have allowed it. That little observation makes me grit my teeth for a moment and instantly an action reel of every moment in high school featuring Brooklyn Jones rolls through my mind.

“Hey bud! How’s soccer going?” Sy asks scooping the boy up. My gut twists. No way would he keep such a detail from me, right? That would be a huge secret to keep to yourself.

Like you aren’t storing a few huge secrets of your own? Self-Loathing whisper-shouts.

“Good! I made two goals last game,” he announces excited through his missing front teeth.

“Dude, whoa! You’re a pro!” Sy holds up his big hand for a high-five and the little boy slaps his little palm against Sy’s.

“Yeah, he’s doing great. Thanks for helping to get him on the team even though the season had already kicked off. With the move and everything we missed the sign-up deadline, and everything was just so chaotic and well… you know. I appreciate it.” The woman’s cheeks turn a rosy pink as she gives Sylas her thanks, taking the opportunity to brush her hand down his muscular arm, her hand lingering on his forearm for a beat too long to be considered a friendly caress.

“No worries. It was my pleasure to help out. This little squirt knows I’m a sucker for that big smile of his.” Sy grins wide, showcasing his own beautiful smile as he beams at the lovely little boy.

“You—uh, you should come to his next game. It’s Sunday at two. We could go grab some dinner afterward.” There goes that sly caress against his forearm again. Her smile is lopsided and I begrudgingly have to admit that she too, is really pretty and wholesome looking in that girl next-door sort of way.

Sy winces and tilts his head. “Thanks for the invite but I have plans already.” He thumbs to his truck and for the first time, the woman and child look up and notice me sitting here. I grumble quietly, murmuring a string of cusswords like a ventriloquist then hop out and extend my hand.

“Hello. I’m Raegan, nice to meet you.” I nod, smiling.

“Oh, likewise. I—I didn’t even see you sitting there. My gosh, you’re so pretty,” she laughs awkwardly glancing between Sylas and I. She rubs her palms down her denim Capri pants and swallows roughly.

“Thank you. And likewise.” She glances around looking very uncomfortable and my mind begins tossing around reasons why.

“Well we better get home. Ice cream is meltin’,” she says plucking the boy from Sylas’ arms.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Bye.”

We get into the truck and the drive toward Mrs. Oppenheim’s house is silence save for the elephant in the room whose trunk is blaring like a brass instrument.

“She seems very nice.”

“She is.” Sylas nods.

“The boy is adorable too,” I note.

“Yep. He’s a great kid,” Sy says glancing my way.

Have you been with her? Is she your girlfriend? Booty call? Is