“Me too.” He hops off the counter but doesn’t leave. He just leans against it while resting his hands on the edge behind him. The position makes the muscles in his chest flex differently, offering me an even better view of the work he does in the weight room.
Dragging my eyes away, I ask, “Have you had breakfast yet?”
“No, I actually ordered some egg sandwiches. Wasn’t sure if you’d want one or not, but I got one for you.”
“Really? That was nice. I’d love an egg sandwich.”
Just then, the doorbell rings.
Great timing.
Pushing off the counter, he walks over to the front door and opens it, where he picks up a bag from the ground.
“Do people know they’re delivering to you?” I ask as I pull out a plate for each of us and take them to the table along with my cup of coffee.
“No. I use a fake name.”
“Really?” I smile. “What is it? Wait . . . let me guess. What does it start with?”
He sets the bag on the table and grabs his coffee from the counter. “F,” he answers.
“Hmmm.” I tap my chin while he sets a sandwich on the plate in front of me and takes a seat. The sweet smell of a fresh bagel combined with egg and cheese wafts into the air. Yup, this is exactly what I needed. “Frederick?”
His brows rise. “Did you read that on the bag?”
“Wait.” My palm falls to the table. “Did I really just guess that correctly?”
“You did. Frederick Garrlo.”
“Garrlo?” I chuckle. “Where the hell did you come up with that?” He takes a seat, and we both unwrap our egg sandwiches. It was so nice that he thought of me.
“I wish I could tell you it’s a famous writer or character I loved, but it was a drunken decision.”
“Ooo, tell me more,” I say as I unwrap my bagel.
He does the same and lets the steam escape. “You know when we check into a hotel, we use aliases, right?” I nod as I take a sip of my coffee. He clears his throat and says, “Well, when, uh, when Holden was still around, we came up with our names together.” His eyes drift to the side, remembering. “He wasFrankie Garrlo, and I went with Frederick. I’ve never changed it.”
And just like that, he mentions his brother again. Sure, he had to clear his throat and his voice softened when speaking about him, but I’m truly surprised. I wouldn’t have expected Halsey to open up to me like this, to even bring his brother into the conversation because he’s always so quiet. Maybe I’ve been looking at him completely wrong.
Maybe he doesn’t mind talking about his brother but waits for the right moment.
“Where did Garrlo come from?”
Halsey shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”
“I do . . . unless you don’t want to tell me.”
“It’s really fucking stupid and immature.” His eyes lift to mine, his unkempt hair flopping over his forehead. “You’ll judge me.”
“Um, are you forgetting how I flashed you my loincloth just yesterday? Pretty sure we established a judgment-free zone in this apartment. So please, regale me with the origin of Garrlo.”
He wipes his mouth with a napkin and rests both arms on the table. “It was when Holden and I were in college. We talked about how when we made it professionally, we would need aliases. We started spitballing names back and forth, names that worked with each other because well, we were those set of twins that enjoyed dressing like each other, having similar names, you know, that shit.”
“I think it’s cute.” And I can picture it. Holden and Halsey walking around in matching striped shirts while eating the same ice cream and trying to deceive people into who is who. I could imagine that side of Halsey.
He endearingly smiles at me. “He chose Frankie because there was this one place we went in Chicago called Frankie Donuts, and he was obsessed with it. I mean, like half a dozendonuts a day. The kid pounded them down. He would follow them on Instagram and drool all over the pictures, itching to see what special flavor they came up with for the week. So it was an ode to his favorite donut, and I needed a similar name, so Frederick it was.”
I bet Holden was a good time. The picture Halsey has painted in my head has led me to believe exactly that.
