Just at his mention of raw-looking skin, that crease between the balls of my feet and toes started doing this weird itchy-burn sensation I’d become familiar with. I’d been smothering my feet in cream for two weeks and changing my socks twice a day per Mason’s instructions. What no one tells you in those athlete’s foot commercials is how long those creams take to work.
“Sucking ass” just barely began to describe the experience.
“It happens to everyone,” Sacha added when I didn’t respond immediately.
I snickered, remembering the last time I’d heard those exact same words. “I’m pretty sure Mason has said the same thing about having The Clap.”
The laugh that exploded out of him in response was so unexpected that I jumped a little at first.
It was so infectious it made me snort.
“That is… that’s absolutely not true,” Sacha snickered in between bouts of clear, loud sounds of enjoyment.
“That’s Mase for you.”
He slapped a long-fingered hand over his mouth as he laughed. “I thought I heard him say last week something like ‘it’s all fun and games until someone gets crabs.’ But I thought I imagined it.”
Oh god. I burst out laughing just as loud as he’d been going at it a few moments ago. “Yeah, that sounds like something he would say.”
His head tipped down enough so that our eyes met. Very intently, he asked, “Is he serious or does—”
“Oh, he’s serious most of the time. I went with him to a free clinic when we were seniors because he’d gotten crabs from a girl on the drill team.” It had been our secret until he got drunk one night and told everyone willing to listen about his previously itchy privates. I’m pretty sure the staff had assumed I’d given them to him but who knows.
Sacha’s mouth gaped in amusement for a second before he stopped abruptly in front of a storefront. “The restaurant is in here.” He gestured toward a glass door to our right, opening it and waving me inside.
The small restaurant was homey with burgundy walls, round black vinyl-covered tables and a counter directly in front of the door with a menu mounted above it, written in chalk. There wasn’t anyone in line and I took my time looking at the various items listed for that day. Sacha stood next to me, deciding what to get as well. After a couple of minutes, an older lady in an apron and a hairnet made her way out of the kitchen and took our orders.
With our drinks in hand—some tea drink for Sacha and water for me—we took a seat at one of the empty picnic tables.
My unexpected eating buddy took a sip of the yellow drink in a clear red cup and raised his eyebrows. “You’ve known Mason for a long time then?”
“I’ve known him and Gordo since I was five. We all grew up together,” I explained. “They’re like the brothers I never wanted.”
He smiled. “But you and Eli really are brother and sister?”
“Oh yeah. He likes to say he shoved me out of the way to come out first.”
Sacha blinked. “No shit? You two really are twins?”
I knew he hadn’t believed me! Then again, most people didn’t. My brother had more physical traits in common with Bigfoot than he did with me. “Yup.”
He still made a face that said he wasn’t entirely convinced. “But he’s twice your size.”
Twice my size. I could give him a hug for being such a terrific liar. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure he tried to eat me in the womb.”
Sacha burst out laughing again, making the lightly tanned skin on his face glow. His complexion was so clear it almost radiated; it made him even more attractive. “Jesus. They said you were funny, but I didn’t believe them.”
Funny Gaby. I smiled and held back the sigh creeping around in my chest. How many times had I friend-zoned myself by joking around? A dozen? It wasn’t even that I tried to be funny; I just grew up around smart-asses. You either learned to adapt or you died. Well you wouldn’t really die, but you’d get verbally eaten alive by the folks that were supposed to love you; apparently they just loved making fun of you an equal amount. My siblings and the two idiots could find the smallest things to tease me over.
I pushed all five of them out of my head and smiled at the man sitting across from me. That longer hair at the top of his head and the shorter buzz cut along the sides were really flattering even when he didn’t have it perfectly in place.
“What about you and your band? Have you been together a long time?” I asked.
“Isaiah—do you know Isaiah?” he asked, and I nodded. “Isaiah and I have known each other since middle school. We started playing together in high school, doing some cover band stuff, and then we met Julian. He’s the big guy,” Sacha explained, like I didn’t know the names of the people I’d been on tour with for the last two weeks, but I didn’t correct him. “The three of us started TCC when we were sixteen, and then slowly added members over the years.”
Was asking his age considered flirting? I wasn’t positive, but I decided that I didn’t care. “So you’ve been together…?”
“Eleven years.”
