Brett: Does she even know your middle name? Fav candy?
Brett: Kit does. Kit knows everything. That's why he bought you that camera for your birthday, so you can take all the pictures your little heart desires.
Brett: how many pics have you taken of him today? Five? Six?
Brett: yooooo when you guys get married will I be your best man or Kit’s?
I choke on my own breath and toss the phone into the grass. Kit glances up from his book like he felt me combusting across the lawn. His eyes meet mine for a second before he looks away again, cheeks pink.
Delaney is now braiding Tucker’s hair. He doesn’t seem bothered by it.
Brett appears beside me, drink in hand, devilish smirk on his face.
He doesn’t say a word. Just sips and grins. Such an innocent face for someone trying to engage in psychological warfare with his own brother.
He’s relentless all day long. Even when my phone is blissfully quiet, I’ll find his eyes on me with a particularly alarming glint in them. I ate way too much over dinner, scared that if I left my mouth empty, I would yell at him to stop being such a damn weirdo across the table. It’s bad enough that the vibe has been off all day.
I’m uneasy and confused as hell. I’m blaming my shithead twin.
By the time Delaney’s dad comes back to get her, we’re all cleaned up from dinner. I sat with her on the porch steps, hyper aware of the person curled up on the swing behind us.
Brett and Tucker went inside the big cabin to start round seventy-two of Monopoly with Kit’s Dad a while ago. The taillights of the car are long gone before I stand up and make my way up the last creaky step.
Kit is curled up, barefoot, with a familiar-looking hoodie that's several sizes too big; the hood is tugged halfway over his head like he’s hoping no one will talk to him.
I lean against the banister, searching for something to say anyway to fill the silence. There’s an edge to it today. Well, I feel like there has been a steady stream of weirdness between us for a while now. I watch his toes curl into the wood, pushing off to get the swing moving again before he tucks it back up under him. Even with the hood, I can see his damp hair hanging over his forehead.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz.
I ignore it.
“Everything okay?” Kit asks, glancing down at my phone vibrating in my hand.
Brett: it’s so weird that you’re always following him around
Brett: like so so weird
Brett: obsessed much???
Sigh.
Me: eat dirt
Brett: you could just kiss him and end both of our suffering
Brett: come on, bro. Give it to him good. You’ll both be like, Delaney WHO? after a lil smooch.
I shove my phone in my pocket and turn to Kit, clearing my scratchy throat. “Brett is being an idiot.”
He snorts and tucks his knees up into the hoodie. “Isn’t he always?”
There’s a lull. The air smells like pine and lake water, and something about it makes my chest feel tight.
“Thanks for earlier,” he says.
