I’ve always been fascinated by how Jesse’s brain works. But now he just seems blank. And too damn still.
Jumping up from my chair, I suggest going for a walk outside. It’s early enough that it’s not too hot out, and I think we’ll both benefit from not being confined.
Jesse agrees and slips his feet into a pair of slides. After a while, when we find ourselves on a shaded walking path that loops around the back of the premises, Jesse tries again.
“How’s Ari?” he asks, casual. Too casual to not know there’s something going on. He’s always been observant in ways that most people underestimate. He sees things and makes connections where other people might not. This isn’t the first time Jesse has picked up on tension between me and Ari, even if it’s not the kind of tension he might be thinking.
“He’s fine,” I lie, and hate myself a little more for it.
Truth? I have no idea how Ari is this morning. Because my cowardly ass snuck out of bed before he woke up.
After what happened between us in the middle of the night, I wasn’t able to get back to sleep. Instead, I listened to the patterns of his breath, knowing the difference between when he’s pretending and when he actually falls asleep for real.
Last night won’t leave me alone. The heat of his body crowded into mine. The way he looked up at me, so open and wanting, hopeful in a way that broke me. I wanted to kiss him. God, I wanted to kiss him so bad. It scared the shit out of me just how badly I wanted him in that moment. How hungry I was for him. How hungry I still am, if I’m being honest.
Starving.
Starving for something that’s been building for half our lives. Something that would cross every line. Something that could ruin all of us.
I can’t do it to him. To any of them.
No one would ever understand it. They wouldn’t care about context or history or trauma and how it all collided, how we became what each other needed to survive. All they would see are headlines. A scandal to feed the circling masses of people who live to watch others devoured by conflict and judgement.
So far Blake has managed to keep Jesse’s accident and rehab stay from getting out. The accident that put Jesse and Ari in the hospital was covered up by claims that Francis had been the one to collapse, and his health is why he needed to step away as manager.
No one, least of all Jesse, wants this kind of news to get out and overshadow our accomplishments or the music. Because if it did get out, that’s all anyone would talk about.
We already get plenty of bad press from conservative media for “corrupting youth” and having the audacity to speak out about politics. If the media got wind of something happening between me and Ari—the brothers, as we’re known—it would all blow up in our faces. All because I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.
“Are you two okay?” Jesse asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“For sure,” I say, brushing it off. “It’ll all be good.”
Jesse raises an eyebrow.
“I told you, it’s fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You look like you’re overthinking your existence. And that’s kind of my thing right now, so…”
I almost laugh. Almost.
“Just the usual shit. I’m overbearing,blah blah blah…”
Jesse puts on an exaggerated, chiding tone. “Did you cockblock your brother again?”
Why does my stomach clench every time someone refers to us as brothers? Like if the qualifier isn’t there it makes this incestuous rather than just scandalous.
“I’m nottryingto cockblock him,” I say, feigning incredulity. That I’m an overprotective menace to Ari’s sex life has been a running joke since high school. But it’s only funny if you don’t know the truth of it. That I’m a possessive asshole who gives him just enough to keep him tethered, while pretending I’m not the reason he never really lets go.
“Maybe you two need a break, too,” Jesse says.
My gaze snaps to his, wide eyes betraying just how offensive I find the suggestion.
Jesse holds his hands up. “I’m just saying—some space might give you both some clarity. My therapist told me I deserve to stand on my own, to know what I’m capable of without a crutch.” He shrugs. “We all deserve to stand on our own. AndAri needs to grow and figure himself out without his scary big brother hovering over him all the time.”
“I don’t hover.”
Jesse’s expression is pointed and unimpressed. I exhale, allowing my ego to deflate some.
