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“What?” I ask.
Now he’s the one looking off. There’s some sort of nervous energy around him all of a sudden, which is not at all usual.
He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his sweats.
“Your brother,” he says.
My what? It takes me a few seconds to catch on.
“Lake?” I say.
“Yeah, Lake,” he says.
“He’s not my brother,” I say. Yeah, I may not be coming out to him right now or anything, but the brother label has to go.
He sends me a confused look.
“Stepbrother,” I say. “We’re not related.”
“Yeah, okay,” he says. “Sure. Whatever.”
He stops talking.
“What about Lake?” I ask.
He takes his hands out of his pockets and then stuffs them back in. He stares toward the rink for a second before he looks at me.
“What’s the deal with that divorce King mentioned? He’s really married?”
The fuck am I going to say to that? Yes? To me?
“I don’t… That’s his personal stuff.”
“Yeah, no. I get it.”
I nod, and he nods, and for a moment we’re like two ventriloquist dolls. I’m honestly not sure what caused this sudden interest in Lake’s relationship status, but that’s a can of worms I am not going to open.
I jerk my thumb toward the car.
“I’m heading ou?—”
“Can you give me his number?” he blurts out.
He rubs his hand over his shorn hair while I stare at him.
“What?”
“His number,” he says. “Can I have it?”
At first, I don’t think I heard him right. He can’t really be asking what I think he’s asking.
That’s my fucking boyfriend. He’s seriously asking me if he can get my fucking?—
I clamp my mouth shut from where it fell open before.
“Why?” I ask after a few seconds of ringing silence.
His jaw tightens, and he lifts his chin.
