“I don’t mean to be,” he says, and I can hear the hint of a smile in his voice. “It’s just that my whole life has been people telling me who I’m supposed to be, what I’m supposed to do or to want, rather than asking for my opinion. And so, I spent all this time and energy fighting back against it, trying to distance myself from it, and I wound up forgetting to ask myself those things too.” The fingers still sweeping through my hair falter, and he murmurs, “It might not make sense, but it’s like…so much of who I am is wrapped up in all the things I’m not, and because of that, I haven’t really considered who Iactuallyam. What it is that I truly want.”
I swallow roughly, the tinge of pain in his voice slicing through me like a hot blade. I wish like hell there was something I could do to take it away.
“You’re twenty years old, Lo. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now,” I tell him in my best attempt at reassurance. “But for the record? From what’s in that sketchbook, the answer looks pretty obvious to me.”
“What if I fail, you know? What if I prove my dad right about this all being a waste of time?”
The admission has me shifting onto one elbow so I can look at him. And it nearly takes my breath away, seeing the amount of fear and vulnerability etched into his features—drawing them down and contorting them into a grimace.
I lift my hand and slowly brush my thumb over his cheek before smoothing the lines in his forehead, and I catch the muscle in his jaw jump before he glances away. But I’m not letting that fly, so I cradle his face in my palm and turn it back toward me, forcing his gaze to mine again.
“Weren’t you the one who told me it was better to try and fail than to not try at all?” I ask gently.
A soft, gravel-filled laugh leaves him, and he shakes his head. “Nope. Don’t think so. Must’ve been another philosopher. Kant, maybe?”
Deflection, Lo? Really?
“Are you sure? Because I vividly remember us just out in the hallway—”
His lips land on mine, silencing the rebuttal we both know would win me the argument. But all thoughts of winning, of convincing him, of pretty much anything other than Logan, leave my head the moment his lips brush mine.
He pulls away all too soon, but his eyes remain closed, and he drops his forehead to rest on mine.
“I can talk the talk. I never said I could walk the walk, okay?” he admits softly. “No need to call me out on it.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to try. I mean, stranger things have happened. Like me getting a B in Phi 101,” I say in an attempt to lighten the mood.
It doesn’t work.
“I don’t know,” he murmurs again. The warmth of his skin disappears when he leans back, and the sadness still lingers in his gaze as it meets mine. “Like, yeah, I love doing this. But is it something I can spend my life doing? Is it realistic?”
I shake my head. “Who said dreams need to be realistic?”
“They do if they’re gonna be a career path. To make a living. Otherwise it’s just another thing I’ve done to piss my dad off.” A rueful little smile crosses his face before he adds, “To beoppositional,as you put it.”
“But there’s no reason it can’t be all of those things. Just look at Quinton and his family. It’s not all that different.”
“Fair enough.” He nods. “You know, my brother’s planning to propose to him.”
I’m not so dense as to miss the easy deflection and rerouting of topics. Just like I’m not stupid enough to bring attention to it. If he’s done with the conversation, then I won’t push him on it anymore. Instead, I’ll just be grateful he gave me as much as he did. It’s already far more than he did the first time we spoke about the topic.
Which is why I cock my head, a little smirk forming, and follow his segue without protest.
“Oh yeah? Glad to see he’s gonna finally make an honest man outta your brother.”
“He asked me to be his best man too. When we were in New York.”
I hum, a little laugh coming from me. “Oh, man. That’s gonna piss Holden off, for sure.”
He chuckles a little too, but then quickly sobers before his fingers find my hair again.
“I dunno. With how new this wholebeing brothersthing is, I’m just worried I’m gonna fuck it up. Like, what the hell do I say in a best man’s speech? I’m not that funny, and the only brotherly moment we share that’s not steeped in layers of disdain and resentment is him giving me a facewash over winter break.”
I laugh, remembering the moment vividly.
“Well, that was rather funny. Could make for a prettyentertaining speech if you worked it in.”
He scoffs before playfully tightening his hand in my hair. “Says the one who didn’t get a face full of snow.”
