We’re both quiet for a moment. A fish makes a small splash. At least, I hope it’s a fish. God knows what strange interests my dad could have that he hasn’t told me about.
“I actually wasn’t going to tell anyone,” I say carefully. A handful of close friends heard about the hookup soon after it happened, two years ago. But I don’t think they’re going to connect the dots. “Were you?”
“Bastien knows I think you’re cute, but I don’t think he suspects the…extent of it,” Javier admits, and I absolutely do not feel any kind of way about Javier admitting he thinks I’m cute. “He’s going to be annoying about it, and he’s going to tell our sister, and she’s also going to be annoying about it. But I don’t think they’ll guess the whole truth. I probably should’ve beaten them up more as kids. I was too nice.”
I raise one eyebrow, because I may more or less be an only child—I’ve got half siblings from my mom’s second marriage,but they’re over a decade younger—but would that have actually helped?
“I don’t think they’ll say anything to you, but let me know if they start,” Javier goes on, misinterpreting the eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure I can still blackmail them both into silence.”
“Withwhat?” I ask. Blackmailing one of my little brothers has never occurred to me.
“When Bastien was eleven he broke the window in my mom’s car with a baseball, and I told my parents we didn’t know what happened,” he says. “I think I can use that.”
Fascinating. “When it happened, did you say that so you could use it as blackmail later?” I ask, because if so, Javier is out here playing four-dimensional sibling chess, and I didn’t even know such a thing existed.
He laughs, a sudden burst of sound with his head tossed back, and god, he’s striking like this. “God, no. At the time I was just afraid our dad would?—”
The back door slides open, and Javier startles and stops talking, like we’ve been caught. Even though we’re just talking and, I guess, contemplating the fish.
“Hey. There’s coffee and tea,” Bastien calls, walking toward us. “And mom is making up leftover plates if you want to grab one. Are those the fish?”
“No, they’re gorillas,” Javier says, and Bastien flips him off without looking.
“Hey, bud,” Bastien goes on, crouching next to the pond. “Pspspsps.”
“They’re notcats,” Javier says, and Bastien scoffs, and before they can get going, I seize the chance at an out and wave my spoon in the air as a farewell gesture.
“I’m gonna go claim leftovers!” I call, turn tail, and head back into the house at a speed that is not, technically, running away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JAVIER
Two days later,I’m sitting at the kitchen table in my mom’s house. It’s late afternoon, and in theory, I’m going over the syllabi for the two classes I’m taking this semester and putting everything in my calendar because if I don’t do it now, it’ll never get done and then school will be the same near-disaster it was for the first thirteen years I tried it.
In reality, I’m embroiled in a group-chat discussion of what tie my friend Silas should wear to his work gala this weekend. He’s in favor of the one with hot pink and neon orange stripes. I’m seeing if I can talk him into a bow tie, just for fun. Wyatt is spamming the chat with pictures of ties with cats on them, while Gideon is very responsibly pointing out that Silas works for a fairly conservative, Southern law firm and there’s nothing wrong with a solid color.
Judging by the tone of the conversation, Gideon’s winning when my mom’s doorbell rings. I get up, still typing.
Me:Bow ties are distinguished
Wyatt:[kitteninspace.jpg]
Gideon:What color is the suit?
Silas:Navy blue
Me:You’d be the only man there in a bow tie, probably. You’d stand out. Your boss would love it.
Wyatt:how do you feel about dogs? [Dachsunddance.jpg]
Gideon:So wear a tie that’s a different shade of blue. Pink and orange would look like a nightmare.
Silas:But that’s so boring.
Gideon:Your law firm is boring. Your boss is boring. This gala will be boring. Wear the blue tie.
Wyatt:[threewolftie.jpg]
