The Replay (Boys of Richland #3)

24. Gabriel

gabriel

. . .

“Yo! Hurry the hell up, man!” Felix hollers, wheeling the shopping cart down the aisle like he's training for a NASCAR pit stop. His energy radiates off him, buzzing, as if grocery shopping is a sport instead of a chore. He takes a sharp turn, barely missing an old lady by inches. My stomach drops.

"Felix!" I hiss, jogging over to the woman. Jesus. My heart races. "I’m so sorry," I say, my voice tight with embarrassment. "He’s a little … enthusiastic today."

She waves it off, her shaky smile attempting to reassure me. “Oh, no worries, dear. He gave me a little startle, that’s all.”

I nod, but the tension doesn’t leave my shoulders until I’m halfway down the next aisle, trying to catch up to the idiot. “You’re gonna run someone over, you dick,” I mutter under my breath, yanking the cart to a halt. Felix is standing on the lower lip of the cart, coasting like a damn five-year-old. Sometimes I wonder how he makes it through his classes every day without adult supervision.

He glances back, one eyebrow quirking. “We don’t have all day, man. Meat’s not gonna grill itself and people are going to start showing up to the house soon.”

I roll my eyes. “If we get kicked out because you take out somebody’s grandma, we won’t have a BBQ at all. Also, I’d like to avoid a lawsuit, so just chill. Okay?”

Felix huffs, grabbing a random can off the shelf and holding it up. "Cheez Whiz. Great idea for an appetizer, yeah?" He smirks. There’s that mischievous glint in his eyes that usually means trouble’s about to follow.

I knew I should have made the store run solo.

"Put that shit back," I mutter, grabbing it from him and tossing it aside. We’re here for carne, tortillas, and the essentials, not gross-ass Cheez Whiz. I steer us toward the meat counter, where the butcher gives us a once-over, probably wondering if we’re serious customers or here to cause a scene.

“Seven pounds of Arrachera, please,” I say, placing my order.

“Marinated or unmarinated?” he asks with a huff.

You can never trust American grocers to season their meat properly. A true arrachera is marinated with orange juice but these days, grocers have started using that artificial Sunny Delight shit. If they’re going to use fake OJ, the least they can do is make it Tampico.

“Unmarinated,” I tell him. The butcher weighs out the meat, making quick work of wrapping and packaging up our selection.

While we wait, Felix leans against the counter, his Aztec medallion swinging slightly as he rests his arms back against the clear glass. His grin stretches wide, and for a second, I get the feeling something’s coming. Felix doesn’t stay this quiet unless he’s plotting something, and given the look on his face right now, it’s something big.

I swear. He knows we have shit going on today. Now is not the time.

“Did Cecilia tell you Adriana’s coming?” he asks, his tone casual. Too casual.

“Yeah.” The meat thuds onto the counter, and I grab it, throwing it into the cart. “Why?”

Felix’s smile grows even wider. “Did she tell you Adriana’s bringing someone?”

My brows furrow. “No.” But I don’t see why that’s an issue. She’s probably bringing some chick from the swim team or something.

Is he waiting for me to freak out over that? If he is, he’s going to be waiting a while.

Do I like strangers in my space? Not really. But Julio already decided we were allowing plus ones so what’s one more stranger in my house? Honestly, Adriana’s friend isn’t going to make any difference.

“Interesting …”

I stop mid-step, glancing over. Something coils tight in my gut, but I push it aside. “What’s interesting?” I wait for him to elaborate, but when he doesn’t, I sigh. “Out with it. Who’s Adriana bringing?” He’s getting too much pleasure out of dragging this out, and not only do we still have a lot of shit to do today, but frankly, I’m just not in the mood.

Felix clearly is in a great mood though because a grin practically splits his face in two as he says, “Adriana is bringing that hockey guy. Kenji."

A dull ache settles in the back of my skull. Kenji? “The dude we did that double date with?”

Felix nods, eyes bright with anticipation. “Yeah, him. She’s bringing him to our house.” He leans in, his voice dropping like he’s revealing the world’s biggest secret. “And not as a friend. He’s coming as her date. Fuck—” he chuckles. “He might already be her boyfriend or some shit.”

I blink, still not getting the big deal. “Okay?” I shrug, tossing a few packs of tortillas into the cart. “What’s the problem? He’s decent. Not some frat douche.” He could have picked a better sport because really, hockey? But I mean, we all make mistakes in life.

Felix groans, planting his face in his hands. “Dude, you can’t be this dense. This isn’t just about him. It’s about Adriana bringing a date. To our place. The place where we,” he indicates the space between us, “live with three other guys. Any guesses over which one will take issue with Adriana bringing a date into his home?”

I stop short, the realization hitting me square in the face.

Shit.

Julio.

“Oh fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck is right.” Felix says, voice almost gleeful now. “Shit’s gonna blow up today, and I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to see some fireworks. This is like four or five years in the making.”

My mind churns with all the possible ways Julio might handle Adriana walking in with a date. None of them are good. Despite what Julio says, he has a thing for her. Always has, ever since we were kids. But he never seemed interested in crossing that line with her.

There was that one time he drunkenly made out with her at a party but according to Julio, it was a mistake and he didn’t realize who he was kissing in the moment. None of us really bought his story back then, but it wasn’t worth getting into. But now —

“Did you give J a heads up at least?” I push the cart toward the checkout, my chest tight.

Felix grins. “Where would the fun be in that?”

“Come on,” I tell him. “You’ve got to give the guy a warning.”

“Pass,” Felix says. “I’ve been starving for entertainment and I’m telling you, man, this BBQ is about to get real interesting.” He rubs his hands together. “I can hardly wait.”

I grimace. The last thing we need is drama, especially with the team coming over. “We can’t have him blowing up at the BBQ.”

Felix laughs, already grabbing the bags from the checkout. “Oh, yes. We can. It’s gonna be great. Like a fucking telenovela.” He’s already heading toward the door, excitement buzzing in his steps.

I jog to catch up, my mind tangled in thought. Julio, Adriana, Kenji. Maybe if we can keep them in separate parts of the house … If I can reduce the risk of them crossing paths …

We load the groceries into the truck and head straight back home. I get why Felix was in a hurry to return because I’m eager to get back to the house as well, though for entirely different reasons. Felix doesn’t want to miss the show. And I … I need to make sure one never starts.

As soon as we pull into the driveway, my eyes land on Cecilia’s white Jeep and an unfamiliar Ford Bronco parked in front of the house. That knot in my stomach twists tighter. I spot Julio through the large front window, arms folded, jaw clenched tight as he glowers at the world outside.

“Told you, man.” Felix lets out a low whistle. “Shit is about to go down.”

I stop dead, watching Julio, who’s staring at the Bronco like it personally insulted him. Shit. This is gonna get ugly.

Felix grins, practically skipping to the door. “Man, I give it fifteen minutes before Julio blows a gasket. This is gonna be epic.”

I shake my head, unease gnawing in my gut. “Epic or a disaster,” I mutter, following Felix up the steps.

My mind’s already working on damage control.