Bro Code(24)

“Not even sort of.”

His deep sigh fills the still, silent air. “Jesus, why is this so hard?”

“I don’t know, Barrett.” His name feels warm on my lips, even warmer than Mom’s crazy tea.

“Want to turn on the TV?” he suggests.

I grab my phone from beside the bed and check the time. “No. I usually read before bed,” I say.

“In the dark?” he asks, propping himself up on one elbow.

“I read on my phone.”

“What do you like to read?”

I smile to myself. “You're going to think it's stupid.”

“Try me,” he says, voice soft.

I flash him the screen on my phone, it's the latest article I've been reading, and the map of Pangea that had captured my interest for the past two nights.

It’s quiet for another second, but then I hear the rustling of him shifting out from underneath his blankets and the light padding of his feet on the carpet.

“May I?” It’s almost too dark to see him, but I can feel the pressure of his legs pushed against the side of the bed, waiting for his invitation to climb in.

“Sure,” I whisper back. It’s against my better judgment, but I slide over to make room for him. The bed bends a bit as he lowers himself onto the springy mattress and slides under the sheets. His body so close to mine but not touching.

“What is it?” He studies the map on my phone for a second before meeting my eyes.

“I love reading about random facts and obscure articles. It relaxes me, I guess. Clears my head. This is about how all the continents on Earth used to be fused together. Did you know that Australia is moving closer to Asia at the rate of two inches per year?”

He reaches out, gently tucking my hair behind my hair with an amused smile. “That's fascinating.”

“Don't tease me. You wanted to know the kinds of things I read about.”

“I want to know everything about you,” he corrects me.

This is such a bad idea.





Chapter Eleven


Barrett


I'm lying on a lumpy pull-out bed with Ava, and I've never wanted to be anywhere more.

I spent the day feeling sick, like I was coming down with the cold she had, but right now, I feel clearheaded and enamored as I listen to her speak. When we’re alone, I forget that anything else exists.

“What else do you like to read about?” I ask, watching the way her lips move.

She shrugs, a smile pulling up her mouth. “Everything.”

Her eyes change when she talks about weather patterns, and unsolved mysteries, and the secret identity of DB Cooper. I can honestly say she's unlike any girl I've ever met. Maybe it's the head cold, but here in the darkness I feel like I can absorb every detail about her that most people gloss over. The freckle just beneath her left eye. The slope of her upper lip. The way she looks down at her hands when she's explaining something detailed.

Her curiosity about the world is refreshing. She has a huge heart, she cares so damn much. It was always that way.

There are so many things I admire about Ava, the bold way she so plainly states what she wants, the way she goes after her goals, charging them down like a bull to a matador. She's twenty-five years old and jumping in with both feet to run a factory—that says something right there.

We're similar in that way—both of us hungry to prove ourselves, to work hard and succeed at our chosen professions. But even in this, in this taboo flirtation, she has decided that she will succeed. That she must win. And the prize? A certain appendage below my waistband twitches, more than ready to volunteer as tribute, to be conquered and won.

And yeah, maybe that was how this all started that first night she saw me naked—a physical spark that ignited our attraction, but somehow, it would be a lie to say that's all this is. I've admired her for two decades. And to see her again now after so many years is messing with my head, well, both heads, if I'm being honest.

As I listen to her talk about some of Earth's greatest mysteries, I'm drawn back ten years.

The memory of her standing on the sidelines at one of my and Nick's football games. She was a high school freshman, and I remember the way she stood there, digging the toe of her tennis shoe into the dirt as she watched a group of teenage guys flirting with the cheerleaders in longing.

The guy she liked that year was a piece of shit, totally not worth her time, but you'd be blind to miss the way she looked at him.

I pulled off my helmet, and jogged over to where she stood when coach called a timeout.

“Hey,” I said, tilting her chin toward mine.

Her braces glinted under the bright lights, and she smiled up at me.

“Things won't always be this way.”

She blinked, either not understanding, or not accepting my meaning. “What?”

“You're too good for him.” I nodded to the idiot boys staring at the cheerleaders’ boobs.

After looking his way, she swallowed, and her eyes swung back over and met mine.

“Are you feeling better?” she asks, breaking me from my daydream.

I take a deep breath to clear my head. “Strangely, yeah. I think that concoction your mom made us drink actually worked.”

She nods, agreeing, then bites her lower lip. “Can we just lie together for a little while?”