She steps aside and gestures for him to come in, so he does, walking into the living area and taking it in. He temporarily forgets about his nerves when he spots the giant framed poster hanging on her wall, his eyes widening in astonishment.
It’s Skyler at one of his concerts, dropped to his knees onstage, head thrown back, wearing a sparkly purple vest with no shirt underneath, sweat glistening on his skin. He looks insanely hot, and Trevor’s mouth might have gone dry staring at it, if it weren’t for the hilarity of Skyler’s own sister having this displayed in her living room.
He turns to her, ready to say something teasing—something like how it’s a little disturbing that she’s a groupie—but she holds up her hand, stopping him.
“Yes, okay, I know how that looks. You don’t have to say it. But I’m insanely proud of my lame ass brother, so leave me alone.”
He laughs. “You should be proud of him. But a picture likethat? Seriously?”
She rolls her eyes. “I know. I didn’t think about it when I got it. I was at that show, and I remember how much it struck me that night that he’d really become a freaking rockstar. How he can totally captivate the attention of an entire stadium full of people. But the first time I invited one of my friend’s over and she couldn’t stop drooling, I realized I should have chosen something tamer.”
He laughs at her again, and she shoves him playfully, only making him laugh harder.
“I can’t help it that he’s hot, okay?” she says. “God, gross!”
It takes Trevor a moment to stop finding this so funny, and then he takes another moment to stare at the poster and appreciate it.
Layla shoves him again. “Please don’t get hard looking at a picture of my brother. I’ve witnessed enough of that with you staring at him in real life.”
“That’s not true!” he argues. Not because he hasn’t gotten hard before just looking at Skyler—of course he fucking has. But he’s pretty sure it’s never happened in front of her. The wry look she gives him now, though, makes him less sure. “Okay, I promise not to make fun of you for the thirst trap poster you have of your brother, if you promise never to mention that again,” he tells her.
She puts her finger to her chin, pretending to consider his offer. “Not sure if I can do that. But we can agree to a truce for now.”
“Fine.”
She motions to one of the couches and says, “Sit down, I’ll grab us something to drink.” So Trevor sits while she walks to the kitchen. “Do you want beer, wine, Dr. Pepper… ?”
He cringes at her nonchalantly offering him alcohol as if he didn’t get completely obliterated within ten minutes of seeing her last time. At least she wasn’t there to witness how fully he embarrassed himself with Skyler afterward, but he’s fairly certain he did plenty of embarrassing stuff in front of her too, even if he can’t remember too many details. “I’ll take a soda. Thanks.”
Coming over to him with two cans of Dr. Pepper in her hand, she says, “So can we get back to the motorcycle?”
He smiles, taking the soda she offers him. “Right, your dad.”
It makes him warm and fuzzy, how she wanted to talk about this family drama with Skyler, but since Trevor’s here, she’ll talk about it with him instead. Because he used to be a part of the family.
“Oh my god, it’s crazy, right?” She sits on the other couch and pulls her legs up underneath her, angling to face him. “He’s going to get himself killed.”
Trevor pictures Mr. James, with all his history books and his brown, thick-framed glasses. He remembers how he wore a red cable-knit cardigan one Christmas Eve, which prompted Layla to call him Mr. Rogers for the entire night until he got annoyed enough to take it off. He remembers him poking gently at the logs in the fireplace to keep the fire going. Remembers how he forced all of them to play some complicated, educational board game that only Mr. James and Skyler enjoyed, but the rest of them did it with only minimal complaints because they loved him.
He can’t picture Mr. James on a motorcycle, but he has the urge to defend him anyway. “I’m sure he wouldn’t be riding it if he didn’t know what he was doing.”
“I promise you, he has no idea. He’s lost his mind! And he hasn’t even ridden it yet. It’s just sitting there taking up space in the driveway. But he bought a leather jacket too, and he swears he’s going to ride it, so naturally, my mom’s freaking out. She called to ask me to talk some sense into him because he won’t listen to her.”
“Will he listen to you?”
“Hell no!” She huffs out a laugh and then takes a sip of her soda. “He might listen to Sky though.”
That makes sense. It’s funny how different Skyler and his dad appear to be now, with Skyler living his rock star life, but deep down, the two of them are very similar.
“Does he even have a license for it?” Trevor asks.
Layla shakes her head vigorously. “Nope. Like I said, total mid-life crisis move.”
“Maybe he’s just bored.”
“Then he and Mom should become swingers or something. Because that would be less weird.”
“Oh hell!” he yells, cringing. “No, it wouldn’t! How can you even think about that? Ew, fuck.”
