Angel actually snorted and I liked the way his eyes went all squinty with his smile. “How does that make sense?”
“You’ll get a chance to ask him sometime. He’d love to tell you.”
“I will?”
His fingers wiggled under my palm, so I brought his hand up and kissed the back of it. “I won’t hide you away from my friends or anyone else. If you’re with me, you’re with me. I wouldn’t do that.”
“I’m not used to this.”
“Up,” I said and stood. He followed me and glanced around fast. “Get settled.” I patted the beanbag chair, and he bounced on the balls of his feet.
“It’s really okay for me to….”
“Go ahead.”
He grinned and dropped down onto the beanbag without catching himself at all. The air whooshed out of it. I held my breath as he scowled at his wrist, but he only squirmed around until he was on his belly with the cast hanging in front of him, grinning up at me. “And what will my Big Brother do while I draw and watch a movie?”
“Let’s find out.” I ruffled his hair, and he kicked his feet happily behind him on the floor. I’d half expected to hear some complaining about me messing up his style. Instead, he tilted his head back and I took it as an invitation to lean down and dust a kiss on his cheek.
Angel rolled back over. I gave him a boost upright so he didn’t have to try to figure out how to do it with only one arm. The smile he sent over his shoulder had me leaning down to kiss his cheek again, and he shook my resolve not to push for more tonight when he leaned into my touch. I turned on the movie and half watched it as I lowered myself down to sit on the floor near him with my back pressed to the front of the couch. He squirmed in place, and my stomach flipped at how his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he opened a tin of black pencils and selected one. He reverently flipped open the sketchbook. I held my breath as he touched the tip of the pencil to the paper, and I leaned up to try and catch a peek at what he was drawing.
“Don’t,” he said, and I laughed when he put his cast up to block my view. “Not till I’m done.”
“You didn’t start yet.”
He turned and I was surprised at how serious he was as he waved his pencil around. “You’ll make me nervous.”
I laughed and held up my hands. “Fine.”
The movie played and the music was fun. The midlife crisis of the main character—if the dead could have those—and the mismatched love hit me where it counted, and I was drawn into the story. There was no way I could watch the animation, though, with someone as stunning as Angel right beside me. Every now and then he would stop to check if I was watching him, inevitably blush when our gazes met, and then go right back to his drawing.
The doorbell rang for the pizzas, and he startled, cursing under his breath.
“It’s just dinner,” I murmured. “No swearing, buddy.”
He stuck out his tongue at me, and as I hopped to my feet, I ruffled his hair again. The way he arched into my touch had my blood heating, and I already couldn’t wait to get my hands on him again.
“Do you want me to pause the movie?” he yelled after me as I headed out of the den.
“No, go ahead.”
“You’re supposed to be watching! What kind of Big Brother are you if you can’t sing the songs later?”
I stopped and the air rushed out of me. Big Brother. Slow heat wormed through my chest and settled in my gut. Yeah, I’d never, ever done anything like be a Big Brother, but that was good. Totally new. I didn’t want to think about anyone else when I was with Angel. Past fuckups and missteps didn’t exist between us. It was only Angel and me making a new path forward. I sucked in a deep breath. Maybe I could be a better person this time.
Fuck, I’d have to talk to him about his dad soon. That was one old fuckup that sure as hell would matter. I shook my head as the doorbell sounded again and made myself keep going.
I opened the door and grabbed the pizzas from an older man. I’d already tipped on the order app, so he only nodded and left again with nothing to wait for. “Thanks,” I said after him and closed the door. On the short walk to the kitchen, I considered the difference between Big Brother and Daddy. In a way, being Big Brother was better.
Daddy had to have all the answers, but Big Brother could still be learning, too. Big Brother was someone middle Angel could have more fun with, and who would also be irresponsible himself sometimes. Neither of us were as locked in to one specific role if I wasn’t a parental figure, and I didn’t feel as anxious as I had been when I was waiting for him to arrive.
But Big Brother was still responsible, so I plunked the pizzas down on the kitchen counter and went to the fridge. I made us small salads in bowls, nothing huge, but he had eaten a larger piece of baklava this afternoon than all the food he’d had for lunch, and I was still feeling pangs of guilt over it. I’d gone overboard when I’d forgotten his reward, and unlike the nitpicking over the veggies, he’d downed the dessert in record time.
All of it.
Because he was a growing boy, so of course he did.
As soon as I popped tomatoes on top of the lettuce, I snagged dressing from the fridge, then made a pit stop for utensils before I took the salads into the den. Angel stared at his food like it was moldy and wrinkled his nose. I plunked a fork and ranch dressing down beside him. I still got a glare and no movement in the direction of anything vegetable-shaped. When I came back with our plates of pizza, it was to find he’d nudged the salad bowls to the far end of the coffee table where he could safely ignore them. I set down the plates and dragged the salad back.
