Naz lets me stew for a while, but as soon as my ass hits the sofa in the condo, he pounces, wanting to know what the deal is with me and Ari.
I scrub a hand over my face, trying to think of something honest I can tell him without telling him too much.
“I’m… having trouble with the Ari and Alonso thing.”
Naz hums and furrows his brow. “Why, though? They seem pretty great together.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “That’s kind of the problem.”
It’s quiet for a few seconds while Naz processes.
“You need to get laid and quit worrying about whatever your brother is doing.”
His Captain Obvious remark gets under my skin, and I snap.
“You fucking think?” I say, sharper than I mean to. “You don’t understand, Naz. All we’ve ever had is each other. And yeah, I know he’s just as much of a grown-ass adult as the rest of us, but I can’t help that sometimes I look at him and I still see the little boy who was too small for his age, who wet the bed because he was afraid to get up at night, or because someone yelled too loud. I’ve spent almost my entire life protecting him. From our foster dad. From bullies. From the memories of all the bad things that happened to him, things that twenty years later he still has scars from—physical and mental. But now I’mjust supposed to flip a switch and stop?” I throw up my hands. “I don’t know how to. I don’t think I can.”
There’s more. So much more. But it’s not like I can tell Naz that my love for Ari is far from familial. That it’s deeper, bigger, darker than something brotherly. I can’t tell Naz I’m protecting Ari from myself, because I’m afraid that if I unleash the full force of what I feel for him, I’ll become something monstrous. That whatever this is inside me has been festering for so long, it’s far past toxic.
When I’m finally able to take a breath, I look up and find Naz staring at me like whatever might be wrong with me is contagious. He blinks slowly, then puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t take this the wrong way. But maybe you should consider therapy.” He pulls his head back and winces like I might hurt him, trying to lighten the mood. “Seriously, it’s been really good for Jesse and Ari.”
He’s probably right, but I wouldn’t know where to start. What if I’m too fucked up? What if I say the quiet part out loud and they put me in a padded room?
It’s super concerning that the first thought I have about being locked up is that I’d be somewhere I can’t reach Ari.
Naz springs off the couch and pulls me up by my hoodie strings. “But first, let’s go out and have some fun. It’s Halloween in NYC, baby!”
We throw together whatever random stuff we can find for costumes. I wear a black suit with a black shirt and tie and the black satin mask from the club that I’m probably imagining still smells like cum. Naz wears his outfit from theRolling Stoneshoot, which is just a leather chest harness and baggy pants, plus a black mask that looks curiously like a muzzle.
“Where did you even get that?”
“Mind your business about things you don’t want to know about. Like how I haven’t asked even once why you keep smelling your mask. I don’t want to know, so I don’t ask.”
The streets are chaos. We walk in the Village Parade, enjoying the privilege of anonymity, and filter in and out of bars with Scott and Zane not too far behind. We end up in a dance club, packed wall to wall with bodies. Every time I look up at a raised platform and see a go-go dancer, male or female, I think about Ari dancing for that bartender.
At some point, I look over and see Naz grinding with someone. I do a double take and question how much I’ve had to drink when I realize it’s his bodyguard. Scott is in his usual black t-shirt and dark-wash jeans, and has his fingers woven into Naz’s chest harness, using it to hold Naz against him while he aggressively grinds into Naz’s ass. A peek over to the nearest table confirms that Zane is seeing the same thing I am. It seems like Naz is enjoying himself, so I guess that’s happening. Zane has a similar expression on his face, and I laugh, thinking about all the ways I plan on using this against Naz later.
A while later, we stumble back to the condo, wasted and happy in that hollowed-out way only copious amounts of alcohol can cause. We collapse on the couch with large bottles of water that our babysitters—I mean bodyguards—supplied us with.
Out of nowhere, Naz slurs as he says, “It’s pretty convenient you were in that hotel bar in Dallas.”
I snort. “Yeah. Convenient is a good word for that.”
Naz laughs. “I thought…” He takes a second to collect himself. “I almost thought you had something to do with it. Because, like, you’re so crazy over his shit. And you were acting all dodgy.” He laughs and drags out the pronunciation of dodgy a couple more times. “And, like, what the fuck were you even doing down there, man? Fuckin’ spying on your brother’s hookup?”
He’s laughing, but I’m not. Eventually, he realizes I’m not laughing, and his laughter dies down. He meets my dead-on stare for several long, drawn-out moments. Realization hits. I watch it happen in real time as he catches on.
Then he bursts out laughing again. “Oh, shit! That’s fucked-up, dude.”
He giggles off and on for a few more minutes, probably remembering the chaos I caused. Even in my drunken state, I don’t think it’s all that funny. Then again, I’m the one replaying Ari’s frightened face in my mind, over and over again.
Naz sighs. “I really hope I remember this shit in the morning. Because I never want to stop giving you shit for being a crazy motherfucker.”
“That’s okay,” I tell him. “I’m hoping I remember to ask what’s going on with you and Scott.”
Naz stops, considers, and then shrugs.
