Page 91 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

Hey, handsome. Just got your message. And yes, I'll see you in Noarlunga tonight. Can't wait ;)

The whole world falls out from under me.

Marcus sees it half a second after I do, but he doesn't move to take it from me. I push it further towards him.

"Here," I say, adamant not to address the message that I was never supposed to see in the first place.

"Lexi, no. That message isn’t what you thi—" he says, and stops, as though he doesn't know what he's supposed to say.

I shove the phone back into his pocket and take the jacket off and hand it to him, trying to smile as I do.

"Just take your jacket. It's fine, Marcus. Good luck and have fun tonight."

He just looks down at the jacket. “I don’t plan on seeing Cheri tonight. If that’s what you’re thinking?” Somehow the question makes it worse.

"I meant your showing."

He curses under his breath. "Shit. Lexi, we obviously need to talk."

"Do we though? I mean, maybe last night was just us getting something out of our systems that we should've done years ago."

“No. Fuck. No! Lexi..." He reaches for me, and I take a step back, pushing his jacket into his hands.

"I'm serious, Marcus. I promise it's fine. I'm not holding you to anything you might've said last night. It was just one perfect night. That's now ended. Sometimes that’s the best way, don’t you think?”

He flinches like I've hit him, and for a second neither of us says anything at all.

"I don't know what to say to make you..." he starts, and stops, stranded halfway through a thought he hasn't had the chance to process. And I can't blame him. I wasn't ready for last night either. When I showed up at the house, I just wanted him to know someone cared. I wanted him to know I cared. I just hadn't realised how much. But he doesn't owe me anything.

"Hey, we're okay," I say. "But I do have to go lie down, I have a really busy day and need to get some rest. But I really do hope everything goes well tonight. You deserve it." I give him a small smile, swallowing the waver in my voice. "I'm proud of you, Marcus, and all you've achieved," I say, and I turn for my room before he can see my face fall.

His footsteps follow me, but I don't turn around. “Please. Alexia, wait, please! Can we..."

"Marcus." Rhys's voice cuts into the space between us.

We turn to see him standing in the kitchen, not even looking at either of us. To a casual observer, he's just an extra in this scene, but he's obviously been listening. His voice is full of warning. Enough, he's saying.

I don't wait to see what happens next. While Marcus is still looking at Rhys, I go to my room, and I shut the door, and I stand there with my back against it for a full minute before I let myself move.

I don't try to sleep. I know I won't be able to, but I have to get out of the house.

I quickly shower and dress. When I come out, the house is silent. My step falters as I pass Marcus's door. How could so much have changed in such a short time? A barely risen sun greets me outside, along with a wind that bites at my cheeks. I'm almost relieved for the way the cold air makes my lungs ache. A pain that isn't my own doing.

I'm feeling for my car keys when I realise I never got them back from Marcus. I look up and see Rhys leaning against his car. His arms are folded, feet crossed at the ankle, as he locks eyes with me.

We look at each other for a few silent seconds before he pushes off his car and opens the passenger door, cocking his head towards it. "Get in," he says.

TWENTY-THREE

Alexia

By the time we hit question four on the problem set, I've lost count of how many times I've had to say, "Sorry, could you please repeat the question?"

After some fumbling and a pointed look from Craig, I manage to talk the group through question five. But halfway through question six, things go awry again.

"So if we're looking at the relationship between declining institutional trust and voter turnout," I say, gesturing at the graph I drew on the whiteboard, which is meant to illustrate a downward trend and but looks more like drunkard tried to design a ski slope, "we'd expect to see, um..." I blink. The image of Zachary's face when he noticed I was wearing Marcus's clothes flashes in my mind. "Um, what we should see is... er..."

"...lower turnout in electorates where trust metrics have declined over the preceding decade," Craig says from where he's leaning against the desk, not even looking up from the readings he's flicking through.