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Mason is still chuckling about my cum breath comment when we climb out of bed to make our way into the bathroom. I don’t have a dual head in my shower, but there’s still plenty of room for both of us.
Picking up my toothbrush, I turn on the water and wet the bristles. Taking the tube of toothpaste, I unscrew it, smile into the mirror, and squeeze some toothpaste directly onto my front teeth.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Mason appears next to me, a bewildered expression on his face.
I pull my eyebrows together, giving him a what does it look like face before I continue to brush my teeth.
“You do know you’re supposed to put the toothpaste on the toothbrush, not directly on your teeth, right?”
Pulling the toothbrush from my mouth, I try to talk without spitting all over him. “Who says? The toothbrush police?”
I fail miserably. Foam and spit drip from my bottom lip with each mumbled word, making Mason laugh out loud. His whole face lights up, and I really wish he would do it more often.
I’ll make it my new goal to make him laugh like that every day.
TEAGAN
“I could get used to this.”
I take a break from my chicken Caesar salad to look around the suite. My brother has already made himself at home by the looks of it. There are empty bottles on pretty much every flat surface—soda, iced tea, water, dirty plates, and crumpled-up napkins. A pizza box on the kitchen counter holds a couple of pieces of crust and nothing else. “It looks like you have already gotten used to this,” I say before shaking my head. “You should really pick up after yourself.”
His face falls like a kid who just found out he has to go to summer school. “Why?” He gestures around vaguely with a french fry before popping it into his mouth. “There are people who do that stuff.”
“It doesn’t look like those people have been around lately.”
He chews a little more slowly, like he’s thinking about it. I love my brother. I would do anything for him. But there are times I wonder how he can possibly be so clueless. “That’s true. Nobody came by yesterday.”
“You’re not the only person staying here. They probably have lots of other rooms to clean… of paying customers. You can at least throw your trash in the can.”
“Oh, come on.” He flops back in his chair with a groan. “You’re taking all the fun out of it.”
Really, he amazes me. “Fun? This is fun for you?”
“Uh, yeah.” You would think we’ve never met, the way he looks at me. He’s staring the way he would at a stranger who randomly started speaking in tongues. “I don’t have to think about money. I don’t have to work. I don’t have to worry about anything. I want something to eat, I call downstairs, and they bring it to me. No threat from bad guys. I mean, what’s not to like?”
“I guess you’re right. We’ll probably never have the opportunity to live like this again.” Why wouldn’t everything turn out okay? In the end, it always does, even if there are close calls and a few scares along the way.
“Well, even with all this luxury, I’m about ready to lose it,” I continue. I wish I could relax the way he does. I really do. Instead, my nerves are ready to shred pretty much all the time, with no straight answers to my endless questions and nothing to do. I have no control over my life and no chance to make my own decisions. For someone who’s used to being busy, it’s torture. “You’re telling me you aren’t bored out of your mind around here?”
“Bored?” He waves to the TV, where some random show plays. The volume is turned down so we can hear each other, but from the frantic way people are gesturing, it seems pretty intense. “I can watch whatever I want. I can sleep all day if I feel like it. It’s like being on vacation. Why can’t you relax and enjoy it? I mean, what other choice do you have?”
“Sometimes I wonder how we’re related,” I say gently, without any bitterness or resentment. “We are so different. I can’t stop worrying that I’ve lost my job since I haven’t shown up for my shifts or called anybody. I doubt they’ll let me come back when this is over. What am I supposed to do? How do I live?”
He polishes off what’s left of his burger and takes his time draining the rest of his soda before smacking his lips and then sighing. “Tell me something.” He hits me with his penetrating gaze, reminding me he knows me better than anyone. “When’s the last time you had a job where you weren’t living paycheck to paycheck?”
