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Ed: Hey, Jack!
“That from him?”
He ignored his brother, leaned back against the door, and responded.
Jack: How’s family day?
“How was Meet the Fockers last night?”
Jack pinned Marcus with a scowl. “His last name is Knowles, you doofus.”
“Whatever.” Marcus swiveled around and smirked. “Did you have a good time?”
“Yeah, mostly. Was nice.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Nice? You’re not convincing me.”
Jack turned away and flopped on the bed. “What? I met his parents. There wasn’t much alone time….”
“You’re not telling me something. What happened?”
“Before or after I had another episode?”
“Oh shit. Sorry, Jack.” Marcus shifted on his seat and stared blankly at his cards. He’d been through most of Jack’s breakdowns. He probably feared the worst.
“I got through it. His parents were cool with me, with my freaking out, everything.”
“I don’t hear anything about Ed,” Marcus said, his voice dipping slightly, a crease forming between his brows. “You two getting along okay?”
The ghost of their last kiss played over Jack’s lips. How soft it had been. Tender and nervous and heartwarming. “He really came through for me.”
Marcus leaned back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head. “You look besotted. Is he coming to my thing?”
“Your thing?” Jack kept a straight face. “You mean your game next weekend?”
“My thing Thursday.” Marcus tossed a card at him. “You better have got me something good. Is Ed gonna join us at Studio 63?”
Studio 63 was off campus, and if only close friends were going to be there…. Jack grinned and got to texting Ed back. “I hope so,” he said to Marcus. “I really hope so.”
* * *
The alarm went off. Despite being Monday, Jack popped up and debated how best to torture Marcus on his special day.
“Marcus.” His voice was louder than normal, not quite a shout. That got a small movement from his brother. “Marcus!”
“Huh?” Marcus opened his bleary eyes and looked at Jack. He groaned as Jack grabbed his ankles, poking out the end of the blanket, and dragged him half off the bed.
“Happy birthday, man. Wanna run?”
“Winner gets a gift?” Marcus scrambled up, scouring the room for where Jack might have stashed said gift.
Jack laughed and grabbed his toiletry gear. “Be ready in five, Reynolds.”
Marcus was ready in three, and his birthday spirit had him sprinting well before the turnaround point.
“You only won because I felt sorry for you,” Jack puffed out as they traipsed back inside the house. “Be a shame to lose out on your gift….”
“Yeah, right. Now gimme.”
Jack opened his desk drawer and drew out the messily wrapped gift. Marcus snatched it out of his hands, gleefully ripping into it. Hollering when he pulled out the collection of Plague Uprooted books.
Looking at it now had Jack reliving that first moment in the bookstore, glimpsing Tall Hot Guy for the first time….
He searched for his phone under the papers littering his desk—
Huh. No message. Jack frowned. Did that mean Ed didn’t want to go dancing or that he hadn’t had a chance to answer back yet? It was still early….
“Jack!”
He spun back to Marcus. “Huh, what?”
“Thanks.” Their chests slammed together with a hug, and Marcus thumped his back twice. “You’re the best roommate, the best friend, the best brother. I wanna keep all three.”
So did he.
Brittany was right; he needed to tell Marcus about Ed. About Harper and the bet.
Later, though. Before Friday night for sure. He just didn’t want to put a damper on Marcus’s birthday.
* * *
Studio 63 was pumping with sweaty bodies and music only Marcus liked. Inside, the place looked like a tropical island met a Goth storm.
Jack scored them a couple of beach chairs in the sandy area of the club, under a fake palm. No small feat on their popular Thursday night event. Lights blinked and music blared.
Brittany went the whole hog and—fake ID’ing it—bought a cocktail with a glow-in-the-dark umbrella. Marcus sat at the end of Jack’s beach chair, shouting along to the music.
Just as well Ed couldn’t make it. He might think twice about Jack, seeing this place. Besides they’d barely be able to talk, and…. Why was he fooling himself? It sucked Ed had an early morning job.
Sucked more that Jack was sure it was mostly an excuse. Studio 63 was off campus, but students sometimes swelled toward it.
He knocked his head against the back of the chair, hitting the metal frame a little too hard. Brittany raised a brow and him and leaned over. “What’s up?”
“Nothing—”
Marcus grabbed Jack’s ankle suddenly, and Jack jerked, tipping their cheap chair until they landed elbow deep in sand. “What the hell?”
Marcus scrambled to his knees, jerking a thumb toward the crowd. “What the hell, exactly. Why is Loch Ness here?”
Jack glimpsed the girl dancing a few feet from them in the crowd, hair swinging as she rocked. He shouted above a particularly loud screech of music, “Looks like she swims in the same lakes as you.”
