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He meets my eyes, giving up the math. I think he was literally counting on his fingers. “I never wanted to hurt you, Kent. I was just looking out for you.”
“I don’t want you to—”
“I want this thing with you and Jonah to work.” When I shut my mouth and sigh, waiting for the rest, it seems to encourage him. “I do. I kinda got to see him a bit through your eyes. And Rico kept talking about him, on and on. It’s obvious Jonah isn’t like the usual guys who come here for a hot time. He’s different … like you. It’s obvious why you are so into him.”
I slowly nod. “Thanks for saying that.”
“It’s true.”
“He is special.” I glance down at my phone, which I for some reason yanked out of my pocket a moment ago. I was probably checking if he texted or called yet.
He hasn’t.
Adrian stands. “I don’t think Cooper’s showing up for a while. I don’t know why I dragged us out here.”
“Because your thirst knows no end,” I dryly answer, my eyes still on the tragically blank screen of my phone.
He puts a hand on my shoulder. “You wanna go back to Mom’s? She’s always got beer.”
“I don’t know why we left the Hopewell’s in the first place. They’ve got enough alcohol to fuel a cruise ship.”
“Couldn’t stand to be around all of that noise. And I’m kinda trying to avoid the guys I banged last night.” Adrian grimaces at me. “They were getting kinda clingy.”
I give him a hard look. “You realize you’re never gonna change, right?”
“C’mon, don’t give me shit for it. I just need a beer with my brother, one last beer to forget this weekend we just got through.” He throws an arm over my back. “And I want us to be brothers again.”
“We never weren’t. That’s what makes it tough when you’re such a bastard all of the time.” I shrug him off of my shoulder. “Get off, you’re heavy.”
“I know, right?” He flexes a gun, then elbows me. “So how about that beer? Nothing like a good hangout on the Sugarberry to get us back on track for the week. Hey, we don’t even have to take your bike. Let’s walk there. It isn’t far, I can manage.”
“Yeah, sure.” I start heading back toward my bike, my eyes on my phone. It’s like I expect it to buzz any second now.
“Wow, I’ve got a second wind suddenly,” exclaims Adrian. “I got a story to tell you about Skip, by the way. I think the sneaky bastard’s got a secret girlfriend. I noticed at the party that he was … Hey, why’re you still looking so glum?”
I come to a stop at the side of my bike, still staring at my phone. I don’t bother answering Adrian. It’s no use.
He studies me. “Y’know I love you, right?” I shoot him a quizzical look. “Hey, don’t you love me, too? I’m your twin. We’re family. We’re supposed to.”
After a last glance at the screen, I finally pocket my phone. “Of course I love you, Adrian.” Then I kick the stand and take hold of my bike. “I just sometimes don’t like you.”
He cracks a smile. “Now that I can work with.”
Finale - Jonah
I drop my luggage off near the door to our apartment. Rico does the same. Then we plop down, tired, sore from five long hours in the car, and turn the TV on.
“Wanna order takeout for dinner?” asks Rico groggily.
“And possibly breakfast tomorrow before we go back to work.”
“Deal.” Rico pulls out his phone and gets to ordering.
I pull out mine, thumb through my contacts, and find his name. I stare at it long and hard. Four tiny letters that spell Kent. The more I say his name over and over in my head, the weirder it sounds.
What’s he doing right now?
Missing me? Thinking about me?
Helping his family clean up that hopelessly wrecked Hopewell mansion?
Maybe he’s wiping down a fryer after draining all of its oil, getting all greasy and dirty again.
I smile dreamily to myself, thinking of it.
“Ugh, seriously, just call the boy,” says Rico—who has apparently been watching my puppy-dog face.
I take my phone outside to our tiny balcony and slide the door shut behind me, but it lends little peace. The noise of distant, Monday rush-hour Houston traffic fills my ears. The thickness in the air. The smog. Odor wafts up from down below and flirts with my nostrils uninvited. The gray and uninspiring sky sits heavily on my head like the lid to a grimy box.
All of these things I’m noticing in bleak and horrible detail. All of these things, reminding me of where I’m not.
As I stare at his name, I’m struck by another fear: What if he doesn’t want me to call him? What if he’s right with all of his hesitation and pushing me away? What if, by calling him and rekindling the spark and dragging this fantasy on, I’m just delaying the inevitable?
