36
BRYLEE
"What the hellis wrong with that school of yours?" My brother's face pops up on my phone screen the second I swipe to answer his call.
He's wearing his blond wig with lovely tresses and has pink lipstick inexpertly smeared across his lips. At first glance, he'd definitely be mistaken for me, which is the point, but his expression right now is pure male consternation.
"Um…everything, I think," I reply tentatively. "I'm going to need you to be more specific."
I sit back on Colter's bed, leaning against the metal frame of his headboard because I just woke up.
I glance around and notice that the tent is cleared out. My mates must have figured I'd need the extra sleep after the bus escapade yesterday. That was thoughtful. But I'm surprised that they left me alone…
Oh, nope.
Not alone.
Colter's massive form is visible just outside the tent flap, his silhouette unmistakable. Massive and brooding. Sometimes he casts shadows that make him look like a bodybuilder—a view I very much appreciate, especially when he bends an arm up to adjust his mask and those biceps pop.
I give a little yawn and stretch beneath the covers as I wait for my brother to explain what outrageous thing happened today when he attended one of my Zoom classes.
"That Madame Ellora… She's?—"
"One naughty bitch!" Caran flops into the screen as he sits down beside Ted and waggles his fingers at me before checking out how he looks in the self-view screen, tucking his hair back by his ears.
"Good observation. And good outfit," I compliment him, because he's pulling off a linen shirt that leaves little to the imagination, particularly since he's got it so unbuttoned.
But if anyone can pull it off, it's Caran.
He gives me a wink as his arm goes around Teddie's shoulder and starts to toy with one of the strands of wig hair.
My brother doesn't even seem to notice because he’s so focused on me. "Brylee. I nearly vomited. I had to listen to a fifty-year-old woman discussanal lubrication."
Caran snickers.
So do I.
And then, like balloons filled with confetti, we burst apart into multi-colored flecks of laughter.
My brother yanks the wig off his head, and I notice his hair looks thinner than normal. "Does Mom know this is the kind of stuff they teach?"
Immediately, my gag reflex starts up, and I jut out my tongue. "Ew. I dunno. Don't ask that."
"I had to sit through an old woman coating her finger in lube and shoving it into a thin rubber hose." The narrow tendons in Ted's neck strain.
Were those always visible?
"Brylee." He redirects my attention back to his story as he leans so close to the camera that all I can see are his eyes and nose. "It bulged. I had to watch her finger that hose."
Caran snorts.
My brother's face disappears from the screen, and for a second, all I see is his back, shirt hanging loosely over it.
"And that's not all. She sent you a kit." He pops back into the frame with a dangling yellow tube that looks about as thick as a shoestring and a bottle of lube. "I had to show that I was proficient at that technique."
"You're definitely proficient, babe," Caran purrs.
"Ew. Acid. I need acid for my eardrums!" I chant as I kick my feet against the mattress.
