“What’s interester…interisin…interesting?” Landon tries.
"Your sleeping arrangement. Mel’s ghost haunt the master or something?”
“Haven’t slept there in a year,” Landon mumbles, and Eli and I exchange a look before lowering Landon down to the couch. Eli attempts to pull off his jacket while I crouch down to deal with his shoes. “Where’s…she?”
“Where’s Mel?” asks Eli. “Long gone, buddy. And good riddance.” He glances at me. “No offense.”
I roll my eyes.
“No, not her,” Landon says, shaking his head. “Color…purple…no, not purple. Lilac?”
“Violet?” offers Eli.
“Yes. Violet. Her. Drives me…crazy.”
I tense, preparing myself to hear him mutter something that will crush me. “Watch what you say, man. She’s right here, attempting to untie your shoes. Those are some mean double knots.”
“She is?” mumbles Landon.
“Yup, I’m right here,” I say, finally working free the tight strings and loosening the laces on the first shoe. I pull it off, revealing a blue and green argyle sock, and move to the left foot. “So don’t say anything that’ll make me want to maim you in your sleep. I’m an expert with a beater and a frosting knife, and I guarantee it will be painful.”
Landon blinks at me for a second, and then he does the last thing I expect. He starts laughing, and I meanlaughing.I’m talking full-on, belly gripping kind of laughter that makes him double over and nearly lose his balance. Eli hurries to right him before he falls off the couch, shooting me awhat the fucksort of look.
“Weird,” I say.
Eli blinks. “Very.”
“I feel like I’ve never seen him laugh before.”
“I’m his brother, and I’ve only imagined it.” He pats Landon on the shoulder. “We should get you drunk and high more often, buddy.”
“Heh,” Landon says, still chuckling to himself. “Hey…didn’t we order a pizza?”
“No, you don’t-” Eli starts, but I adamantly shake my head, cutting off whatever he’s about to say.
“Oh yeah,” I lie. “Pizza’s on the way. All the best toppings on there. The good news is that there’s enough time for you to take a little nap before it gets here.” I pat the pillow on the couch. “Come on. Nap time.”
Surprisingly, Landon obliges, much more agreeable when under the influence, and Eli grins. “Why am I not recording this right now?” he asks, watching me adjust the pillow. “This is gold.”
I level him with a look. “Because you’re a good brother.”
“Not that good.”
“Don’t let me sleep too long,” Landon mumbles, snuggling into the couch.
“Oh, we won’t,” I assure. Landon mumbles something else, but it’s muffled by the pillow, and I look at Eli. “Maybe you should get him some water.”
Eli glances back down at his brother, who’s still muttering to himself, and swallows down a laugh. “Smart thinking. He’s in for a wicked hangover, poor guy."
As Eli disappears downstairs, I pull the comforter up around Landon’s shoulders, tucking in the sides. His eyes are shut, his entire face relaxed and peaceful, and my eyes wander over his features with newfound confidence. “Landon, how are you doing?” I ask softly.
His eyes flutter open, and he gives me a lazy smile before reaching up to graze my cheek with his warm fingertips. I try not to lean into his touch, but it’s hard. It feels…nice. Why did I never wonder how nice it would feel?
Because you’re not a masochist.
“Pretty,” he mumbles. His hand falls away, and my heart breaks into a freakingsprint. I wonder how much of what someone says when under the influence is actually true. Probably none of it. Probably nothing. His eyes shut, long, dark lashes curving against his cheeks. “I just wish…I wish things could be different.”
I bend closer, lowering my voice to a whisper. “What do you mean?”
