Victory Formation

WHITLEY

I don’t know what made me think this was a good idea. Thinking back, it must have been the desperation in my brother’s voice that made me agree to drive all the way across the damn country to spend the summer with him. It’s the only reason I’m still in this car, hoping against all hope, that it’s not that much farther.

My brother and I are actually pretty close. We have been since we were kids. It helps that we’re only nineteen months apart. We also have a sister who’s only two years younger than we are. Yep, our parents just couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

We all look just alike too. Mom always said our dad had some strong genetics to have three children that look just like him. There’s no way, with our light-brown hair, auburn highlights, and sharp, green eyes, that anyone could miss that we’re all related. So, all through school, we were known as the Barrington triplets.

Kendrick and I graduated high school about the same time, and both ended up going to the University of Alabama. Kendrick was the quarterback of the football team, and I was one of the cheerleaders. Our family has always surrounded themselves in sports. Our younger sister, Devyn, played tennis and swam competitively.

When Kendrick was eligible, he entered the NFL draft. He was drafted first round, leaving me behind to follow his dream of playing professional football. After graduating, I transferred to NYU in New York to get my master’s.

I had just finished graduate school, getting my master’s in English literature and communications, and wanted to take a small break. When Kendrick called, wanting me to spend the summer with him out in California before I started looking heavily for a career, I started my journey, thinking a drive across the country sounded great.

Yeah, someone should have smacked me in the back of the head and told me to fly. Just the thought of having to drive back makes me shudder. I’m thinking about just leaving my car and flying back.

As I cruise through Los Angeles, I finally pull up to the address my brother gave me. It’s a huge, white house with a long drive.

Good lord.

At the gate, security stops me.

“Name, love.”

“Umm… Whitley Barrington.”

“Yes. Mr. Kendrick wanted you to park in the garage when you arrived. It’s just up the drive. There will be someone there to direct you.”

I steer the vehicle where he’s indicated, noticing a ton of cars parked everywhere. Looks like my dear brother is having a party, as usual. When I reach the end of the drive, another man in a black suit directs me toward the garage.

I wait till the garage doors open and pull in. After turning off the car, I get out, stretching my back till I hear it pop. The man comes over, shutting my door for me.

“Ms. Barrington, I assume?”

“Yes.”

“You can enter the house from the side door,” he says pointing at it. “I can take your bags inside for you.”

“Thank you.” I hand him my keys. “They’re in the trunk.”

He nods and hits the button on my keys to open the trunk. I head toward the side door. I can already hear music blaring through the thick walls. I open the door, and it leads into what I assume is a mud room.

Why do you need a mud room in Los Angeles?

Moving forward, I enter an enormous kitchen. When I say enormous, this kitchen is bigger than my whole damn apartment back in New York.

I’m absolutely in love with the white and blue stone island that could seat our whole extended family. The refrigerator is stainless steel, along with all the other appliances, and bigger than any I’ve ever seen before. Like, how do you fill something that damn big with food?

The whole back wall is nothing but these huge glass panels. It looks like they slide back, and the whole wall opens up to the patio and pool outside.

“You look lost.”

I turn and standing before me is Barbie herself. The platinum-blonde is stick-thin and wearing a tube top and workout shorts. She’s looking at me like I’m scum in my cutoff shorts and tank top, my hair in a messy bun on top my head.

Come on, Barbs. I just drove across the freaking country! Give me a break!

“Excuse me?” I ask.

“If you’re looking for a honky-tonk bar, there’s one about three miles down the road. This is Kendrick Barrington’s home. You certainly don’t belong here. How did you even get in here with his security.”

“You don’t happen to know where this Kendrick person is do you? I’m new in town.”

Her eyes light up, probably thinking I’ll be gone just as soon as Kendrick finds out I don’t belong.

“He’s by the beer pong table. Over there,” she says, pointing.

“Thank you—”

“Brittany. I’m Kendrick’s girl,” she says smugly.

“Of course you are. Excuse me…umm…Brittany.” I head toward the beer pong table, Brittany following behind me. I hate the name Brittany. Nothing against all the Brittanys in the world, but I’ve had bad experiences with the ones I’ve come into contact with.

I see Kendrick at the table, the ball in his hand as he looks up. He smiles wide and drops the ping-pong ball. Brittany is standing right behind me with a smug look on her face, waiting for him to throw me out.

“Hells bells. She finally made it!” he says. Then he cups his mouth with his hands and hollers over the music. “Gabriel! It’s time for the smash and bash!”

Oh no.

I forgot. Gabriel Underwood, Kendrick’s best friend, got traded to California, and now they’re on the same team. I always had a crush on him, but he’s never seen me as anything but his best friend’s sister. Such a shame too. I bet we could have been good together, in and out of the sheets.

I hear what sounds like thunder coming down the stairs behind me and a huge stomp as Gabriel lands at the bottom.

“Make room, folks. I’m coming in!” he shouts.

I look at Malibu Barbie.

“Oh, shit. You might have been right, Barbs. I don’t belong here.”

“My name is Brittany. I’m starting to think you know Kendrick, but I’m his girl. Don’t even try sleeping with him.”

“Aw, come on! How much do you actually bleach that head? Just move! I gotta get out of here!”

As I turn to run, my brother grabs me from the back, and Gabriel grabs me from the front for the smash and bash. They crush me between them in a crushing group hug that makes my eyes feel like they are about to pop out of my head.

“About time you made it, Whit. I’m so glad you’re here. I missed my little sis,” Kendrick says, squeezing me tighter.

“Kendrick, I—can’t—breathe.”

“Too bad. We haven’t gotten to the bash part yet.”

By now, someone has turned the music down, and everyone is watching. I feel Gabriel pick me up and bash me to the floor. He always does the bash part, but he never lets me fall too hard. This time, though, I get chill bumps as Gabriel hovers over me, looking me up and down. He leans forward and whispers in my ear.

“Damn, Whit. You get any more beautiful, and I’m going to have to take you for myself.”

What the hell?

He helps me up, and Kendrick takes me in his arms.

“Everyone! I’d like for you to meet my sister, Whitley Barrington! Anyone touches her, and they’re dead!”

I elbow Kendrick in the stomach, and he holds up his hands.

“Okay! If anyone touches her without my permission, they’re dead!”

For some reason, I look back toward Gabriel. He is staring at me hard. He has this look in his eyes I can’t quite understand. Something in my gut tells me this is going to be one interesting summer.