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Why did I go and push him away?
Maybe I’m no better than my father.
Suddenly there’s someone next to me by the railing. I didn’t even see him coming, but now he’s here.
And he’s totally wrecking my solitude. “What do you want, Skip?”
“Heard Dad was here.”
“That he was. You didn’t miss much.”
Skipper picks at a splinter on the railing. “Would’ve liked to see him, at least.”
“Yeah, I get it. Your emotions haven’t died yet. You’re still clinging on to hope like a lovesick puppy.” I glance at him. “You don’t need to look anywhere beyond this island, Skip. All the family you need is right here.”
“You say that all the time.”
Oh, I just realized I kinda do. Every one of his birthdays when Dad doesn’t show up. Every Christmas. “Well, it’s … important to reiterate. And I mean every word.”
“But what if you’re wrong?”
I nudge his side. “I’m not. Big bros are never wrong.”
“Brett was wrong.”
I frown. “Except for him.”
“And also, according to you, everything Adrian says is wrong. So I have two wrong big bros.”
“Skip, listen …”
“No, you listen.” He faces me. “I’m not a kid anymore. I see things. I see the way people really are, maybe even better than you do sometimes.”
He’s sure got a really serious expression right now. “I know you’re not a kid anymore. I sometimes forget to—”
“I’m not done.” He takes a breath. “You have to give something a shot, bro. Even if it means risking getting your heart hurt. Or if it risks breaking this fake utopia you have built up in your head of what our life here in Dreamwood Isle is supposed to be like.”
The hairs on the back of my neck are standing. He’s up to something. “Skip, what did you do?”
“He’s gonna be here any minute.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “Who?”
He pushes away from the railing and looks at me. “If you keep doing what you’re doing, you’re gonna end up just like Dad. And I …” His face tightens. “I love you too much to let that happen.”
Then he turns his cap backwards, drops his skateboard onto the planks, and off he goes, soaring away. I watch him disappear, dumbfounded.
My little brother just played me.
Jonah is coming here …?
I head back into the house, sweating. I probably still smell like a grease ball. Or the bottom of an old sock after a trek through mud. Or worse. I certainly look like hell. My mind is the aftermath of an emotional earthquake. I also may be nursing a tiny burn on my arm where I think some asshole flecks of fryer oil might have spat out at me.
It’s when my disgusting-ass self is standing in the back of the main room that I spot the front doors swing open.
And like an act of the gay gods, the crowds practically part, and in walks the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.
I do a double-take, realizing who it is.
What in the fuck …?
He saunters in with the confidence of a lion. Instantly, every gay man in the house—whether they are coupled up or not—spot him like fucking laser beams. As he slowly passes, I watch one guy stop him. Then another joins, his eyes full of desire, a drink in hand. Someone else comes up, a horny bastard who frequents El Amado. Soon, this hottie I barely recognize has a small crowd of curious men around him like some sick, horny entourage of admiration. I can only imagine all of their flirting, their propositions, their less-than-subtle invites back to hotel rooms …
It kills me, standing back here—my greasy, sweaty, nasty self—watching it all unfold like a tragedy. We could have walked into this party together, he and I. Instead, I just cut the line and let the best fish swim out to sea.
And the sharks found him.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Chapter 17 - Jonah
Uh, okay, I wasn’t really expecting all of this.
“What’s your name? I haven’t seen you around here.”
“We’re staying at the Sunnyview. What about you?”
“Those pants make your ass look fucking great. What brand are they?”
“Are you a friend of Toby’s? Vann’s? You look young.”
“You got plans for after the party?”
Seriously, I can barely breathe with this sudden crowd of admirers all around me. I mean, I literally just bought this outfit—designer jeans, a fitted shirt, nice shoes—then got made over at Francisco’s salon, and you’d think some horny siren cast a love spell on me to draw in all the boys.
Honestly, I almost hate it. What does it say when just the clothes on my body and the styling of a new haircut is what gets everyone’s attention? I literally look nothing like myself. This whole appearance of mine, it took way too much effort. Like, I’m pretty sure this is the best I’m ever going to look in my life. Right now. This is the pinnacle. It’s downhill from here.
