I swallowed hard.
What I wanted was to see how far I could unite us.
Lines crossed be damned.
“We should probably make more of an effort to hang out with others, though,” he said, clearing his throat. “Right?”
He was looking at me all unsure again, which meant he was asking. He wanted my take on it.
“I just mean,” he hastened to add, “we don’t want anyone to believe there’s too much going on behind closed doors. And we owe it to ourselves to find guys we wanna date.”
Jesus. We owe it to ourselves… Was he hearing himself? We owe it to ourselves—come the fuck on. He sounded like Nana. We “owed it to ourselves” to maintain a relationship with Pop. Screw that.
“You do what you want,” I said as patiently as I could. “I don’t like being one of the last eighteen-year-olds who hasn’t gotten his dick wet yet, but I won’t waste my time on idjits who can barely get me hard. I have no interest in dating.”
I had a feeling I’d have to find a specific crowd of people to get what I wanted. The porn I was into had led me to stuff like BDSM and leather culture. I’d found a lot I wanted to explore, and I kinda saw my brother next to me. It was where he belonged.
“You’re still only gettin’ head from buddies?” Reese asked curiously.
I half shrugged, half nodded. “I, uh, reciprocated once, but I don’t know.” It wasn’t a fond memory. The attraction hadn’t been there, and I’d only done it out of guilt ’cause the guy in question gave a lot and rarely got anything in return. I’d felt bad, even though he hadn’t demanded anything. “I just felt awkward.”
“I know the feeling,” Reese muttered and grabbed his soda. “I kinda stopped putting myself in those situations altogether when a guy—you’ve met Josh—he said I was selfish. And I mean…maybe? At the same time, I’m not throwing myself at them. They come to me.” He pointed at his chest. “They wanna suck my dick, be my guest, but you can’t assume I’m interested in some fuckin’ exchange.”
I let out a laugh.
We were so goddamn similar.
But yeah, we were definitely selfish. Otherwise, we’d make it clear that we didn’t wanna give anything in return before they dropped to their knees.
“I haven’t even kissed someone yet,” I confessed, dragging a hand over my face.
Reese groaned. “I wish I could say the same, man. Two years ago, that closeted fucker Paul shoved his tongue down my throat when he was wasted. Caught me completely off guard. It was over before I knew it was happening, and then he threw up on my sneakers.”
I couldn’t help but laugh my ass off; that was too funny. Paul had come on to me a couple times too—always when he was drunk—but I’d dodged that slurring bullet.
“You know, I ain’t countin’ it,” he argued. “It’s not like I got a say in the damn matter.”
“Aw, you’re breakin’ Paul’s heart,” I laughed.
Reese tried and failed to glare at me. Before too long, he shook his head in amusement and rose from the chair. “That’s it. I’m callin’ your stalker. What’re the odds he quit workin’ the graveyard shift at the gas station? I wanna borrow him for myself.”
My what? Oh…Brian.
“Are you kidding me?” I blurted out.
“Nope! We gotta get ourselves a sex life, brother.”
He was an idiot!
I watched as he rummaged around in the kitchen for the phone book, presumably to find the number to the gas station where Brian worked. Reese better not bring that man around here, ’cause I was done shooting him down.
“I’ll beat you if you pretend to be me again,” I warned.
He’s gonna go out with Brian. Maybe fuck him.
I swallowed and willed myself not to let that get to me.
“It was one time!” he defended. “How many times have you pretended to be me?”
That was neither here nor there.
We’d never pretended to be each other in any sexual situations, though.
Reese evidently found the number, because soon he was dialing on the phone on the wall next to the fridge.
Someone must’ve picked up. “Hey, is this Brian?” Reese asked. “Yeah, hey, it’s Reese Tenley.” That asshole. He was actually running with this. “Yeah, we’re back for the holiday—as usual. Listen, you got any plans tomorrow?”
I rolled my eyes and picked up the last slice of pizza on my plate.
“Cool. You wanna hang out then?” Reese asked. Then he shot me a wry smirk and said, “No, just you and me.”
Brian had asked if I was tagging along, hadn’t he?
Anyway, I’d been right. Reese was gonna drag this out, but it was okay. Things had been left unsaid between us, and he’d come to me soon enough. I knew my brother too well. I wasn’t the only one feeling confused about where our limits were, and if there was one thing I could bank on, it was Reese always wanting to find out. If someone told him to take only two steps, he took two and toed around the edges of the third to see if anything would happen.
Sometimes he took another seven steps after that.
“I can pick you up,” Reese offered. “I have Pop’s truck—all right. Swing by around nine.”
Brian wanted to come here. Why the fuck was Reese doing this? He had plenty of friends in Nashville, mainly from all the odd jobs he’d had over the years, and I bet some of them wouldn’t mind fooling around. Unlike Reese, I didn’t get fired for getting into trouble, and I’d had the same two jobs here in town every summer we visited.
“By the way, if you talk to Rick and the others, don’t mention I’m in town,” Reese said.
I frowned.
“Okay, cool. See ya tomorrow.” Reese hung up and grabbed another couple sodas from the fridge before he returned.
“Why don’t you want your buddies to know you’re here?” I asked.
He shrugged and sat down in the chair again. “Wasn’t feelin’ it this year.”
“Oh, but you feel like going out with an easy lay who’s been gunning for your brother since we were fourteen?”
He got defensive. “I didn’t say it was the most well-thought-out plan. But what’s the alternative? I keep latching on to you and die a virgin?”
There were other options…
“Fine. Enjoy your date tomorrow,” I said. “I won’t be here.”
Nine was gonna be pretty late to start a date, unless they were skipping dinner and jumping straight into messing around, and then I assumed Brian would start his shift at around midnight as usual.
Reese frowned at me. “Where’re you going?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll break in to the pool.”
We’d probably visited the local pool at night more than any other time of day. It was just two blocks over, and the security was absolute crap. Reese had worked there one summer and discovered that they hid a key inside the keypad box that’d been broken for as long as we could remember. And the code for the security alarm had always been 9876.
He sucked his teeth. “That’s something we do together.”
Yeah, well. Apparently we were cutting the umbilical cord this holiday.