This is the End 2(629)

“Please no fighting,” Harrison gestured back and forth between us. “There’s plenty to go around.”

King snorted from the other captain’s chair and Nelson brought me closer to him, settling me deeper against his chest. He shifted my voluminous- thanks to the lack of available hair product- wavy blond hair with his nose so he could whisper in my ear.

His lips danced across my earlobe, pushing me further into his net of heart-entrapment. “He’s not the Parker you want, Haley. I promise you that.”

With as much bravado as I could muster I nodded my head, scraping the line of my jaw against the stubble on his chin. “I know that. I’ve been able to narrow it down to the other three.”

“Other?” he asked in a flat voice.

“Yes, your other three brothers,” I agreed as seriously as I could manage. “Harrison lost in the most recent elimination. And you were out of the game a long, long time ago.”

“You’re such a smartass.” And then he was tickling me- like the terrible kind, when you can’t breathe, and it almost hurts there’s so much sensation and you’re afraid you’re going to pee your pants. Tears were forming in my eyes and I was thrashing wildly on his lap and he still gave no sign of stopping- despite my pleading/screaming that he did.

“Holy shit! Take your seat back!” Harrison cried a bit desperately when I accidently kicked him in the shin. “For the love of God take your seat back!”

Nelson stopped immediately and wrapped his arms around my middle. His chin rested on my shoulder- his scruff gently abrading the skin along my throat- words failed at how amazing that familiar gesture felt.

“We’ll be good,” Nelson promised, tightening his arms around my waist. “Promise. We’ll be good.”

I tried to look down at him, but he was holding me too tightly against him. I couldn’t quite see his face. But the serious tone in his voice unsettled me; it was too intense- too possessive.

I didn’t argue. I knew better. Nelson was not going to give up this fight and I didn’t want to cause a scene in front of everyone. Besides, the intimacy, the protective shield he formed around me- it all felt… amazing.

So in order to save my brain from overanalyzing every single detail about what was happening and in an attempt to avoid memorizing his breathing pattern, I turned my attention out the window.

I wasn’t ticking anymore, but I used the technique that came in handy for when I was. I observed.

I was very, very observant- like Sherlock Holmes observant. I always had been. It was a skill that had helped keep Reagan and I alive the last few years. Well, my powers of perception and her unshakable aim.

It wasn’t something I could turn off or ignore. It just happened to me. My brain was on, constantly. There was no shutting down, no relaxing, no unwinding. My mind worked at full power, every waking moment- and some sleeping ones too.

It used to be hell to walk into familiar places, because the minute details were already memorized so my brain would search out everything new and different and wrong. It was like playing “Eye Spy” with those big books that had pages full of jumbled scenery and setups- only every single minute, of every single day.

I would walk in the house after a long day of school and immediately know that my dad had left the coffee pot on all day. He’d remembered to rinse out the pot, but the numerous hours of dripping had burnt the bottom anyway. The right side of the couch was getting more attention than the left side- the cushions were more worn and depressed; it sagged just a little on that side. The last time he walked into the house, he opened the door too hard; there was a mark on the drywall. The upstairs bathroom sink was dripping.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

I was mostly likely a genius, although I’d never let him test me. My dad actually was a genius- like a legit one. He was a professor of chemical science at Drake University and worked in their research labs as well. He was crazy smart.

And probably so was I.

But the thought of being sent away to a different school, or the idea of living my life with that title plastered above my head in glaring neon lights didn’t really work for me. I didn’t like labels and I didn’t want to live my life with a certain set of expectations. I just wanted to be me.

And normal.

So I kept it all a secret- hidden and buried under my over active brain and way beyond average memory. I worked not to learn things- I tried really hard to just be…. average.

And for the most part it worked. There wasn’t a whole lot of difference between my dad and someone else’s non-genius dad. He just retained knowledge better and because of the demand his mind had on his body, he had a thirst to learn as much as he could. Maybe he had a more intellectually-demanding job than other dads, but he still arrived home tired, still fought office politics, still complained about his projects. We all ticked.