CHAPTER 22 #2
“Maybe your brother’s rubbed off on me. Maybe I decided to go for a walk instead of hitting the gym this morning.
” It’s not the whole truth, but I convince myself that if Eden thinks about it hard enough, he can figure it out.
Then logic slaps me in the face—I’m being too bold and I need to pivot. “I want you to come back.”
“Goodbye, Tek.”
“I’m sorry, Eden.”
“What the fuck did you do?”
My whole body tenses. “Huh?” He figured it out. He knows.
“What the fuck are you apologizing for? Other than pestering me about coming back, I mean. But still, sorry is not a word I’m used to hearing come out of your mouth.”
The urge to apologize again is real. “It’s… It’s just hard without you.”
“I’m sure you and Carey can figure it out.” The meaning behind Eden’s words, and what my ears hear, are hemispheres apart.
I want so desperately for this to be one of our, are you gonna fuck her? conversations. But even more than that, I want to tell him that I’ve found someone I want more than just physically.
Someone I want to hold hands with and wake up next to.
Someone I want to share my pain with because they are worthy enough to know the real me.
But how do I tell him?
How do I tell my best friend that the first person I’ve truly wanted since losing everything, is his little brother?
“You two better not fuck it up,” Eden laughs into the receiver.
I want to scream that it’s already fucked.
I want him to hear that I never meant for this to happen—that the last person I would have ever chosen to be the one soul who would pick up my pieces and put me back together, is Carey.
But it was fast, and confronting, and it came out of nowhere, and no matter how hard I tried to push my feelings away he wouldn’t let me.
“I don’t think he’d let me fuck it up. He wants so badly for you to be proud of him.”
“Yeah,” Eden breathes out. It’s not a question, but it’s not not one either. “Please take care of him for me.”
I feel the searing blade of a knife draw straight across my throat.
“Of course,” I whisper, just able to form the words.
“Thanks… Gotta go.” Eden doesn’t say goodbye. He just hangs up.
I stay leaning against the cliff, the phone pressed to my ear, long after the call ends. The screen goes dark. My hand aches from clenching it so tightly. I feel the pressure building behind my eyes, and the swell of nausea in my stomach.
I look back to our camp, then notice in the distance a figure—in black from head to toe—emerging from the water.
In spite of my guilt, I’m still drawn to him, and push off from the rocks.
The waves might be crashing, but the sun is bright, and the air is still.
Carey will make it back before I do, and as I set out, I put in the effort to make each of my steps slow.
Each crunch of my boots into the pebbles is a different side of the argument over what I want, and what I’ll allow myself to have.
It feels like I’ve walked forever before I raise my head again.
Carey is standing by the fire wrapped up like a burrito.
There’s a towel around his waist and one of the blankets from the van is draped over his shoulders being held together by a clump of it gripped between his teeth.
His hair is wet and stiff, like a wild sunburst, and when I’m close enough for us to make clear eye contact, he releases the blanket and smiles at me.
His arms are crossed over his chest with his hands snug between the opposite underarms.
The towel is so low I can see the strip of pale skin that never tanned from all those years in the sun.
He shivers a little, but he tries to hide it by shuffling closer to the fire.
His wetsuit, cap, and socks are draped over the chair beside him, drying so they don’t freeze.
I keep the barrier of the firepit between us and sit in the same chair I was in last night. I stare at the flames, refusing to let my eyes linger further on the bare, golden skin of his stomach just three feet away from me.
Like my saviour, he’s the first to speak. “Did I wake you?”
I shake my head.
“Where did you go?"
“Just needed a walk.”
I tried to stay strong but I can't take it anymore.
I want to see the morning sun on his face.
My eyes raise, lingering long enough on his belly piercing that I know he notices, before finally reaching his gorgeous eyes.
He takes hold of the blanket, wrapping it around his mid section in a way that covers his stomach but bears his shoulders, and—my god—they look impossibly strong.
He grins wide, but it’s not cocky. “Did you bring me back anything?”
“Just an existential crisis.”
He snorts, and it’s cute, and I know he knows exactly what I’m talking about. Because everything the pair of us is doing is code. We're tip-toeing around the truth, flashing skin and admitting our desires without ever muttering the exact words.
Carey crouches down to poke at the fire. When he puts another large log on it the blanket and towel flare wide enough for me to see his inner thighs.
He glances up and catches me staring, but doesn't say anything about it because the silence between us is different out here.
He stands and walks to the van, returning less than a minute later with the camping kettle full of water and sits it in the ashes on the red glowing stones.
He then lays all the pieces of his wetsuit down on the rocks where they will still be warm, carries the chair around to my side of the firepit, and sits so close to me that our legs are only an inch apart.
"Aren't you cold?"
"I'll go wash up in a minute when the water's boiled… Unless." He pauses. "You're that desperate for me to put some clothes on."
I shake my head and look away from him. "I don't care."
He shifts beside me. "You know, you could just say what you're actually thinking."
"And what might that be?" What the fuck am I doing?
"That you're uncomfortable being next to me knowing I'm naked under this blanket."
"You're also wearing a towel."
"I thought you didn't care?"
I instantly feel my face burning and it's not from the fire.
Carey sinks further into the chair, his knee now touching mine. I know it's a test, and still, I can't bring myself to move it because even though I can't say it, I need him to know how much I want him.
He rests his hands in his lap. "Do you want me to go?"
My jaw clenches so hard it cracks. "No."
"I remember everything, you know?"
"Don't say it," I warn.
"I think I will," he counters, grabbing my chin and turning my face up so our eyes meet. "I'm bisexual."
“I told you not to say anything.”
"Someone's got to… Are you bi?" I shake my head and his hand drops from my face to my leg. "So you just let guys suck your dick in secret, then?"
I look down at his hand. "I do most things in secret."
"That still doesn't answer my question."
"I'm not bi."
"So what are you?"
"Confused."
He scoffs, "Yeah, no shit," and slouches back into the chair, his leg now unapologetically butting up against mine with no room to question his intention.
"I'm sorry."
"No you're not."
I copy his position and stare blankly into the fire, the pair of us doing our best to keep our emotions contained. "I am. I didn't want this to happen."
"Fuck," he scoffs again. "That makes me feel so much better."
I sigh because I know my words aren't coming out right. "That's not what I mean."
"Sure it's not… You don't want me. You don't want—"
"I don't want my friend's little brother."
"Finally. There it is."
"There, what is?"
"A reason. An answer. Something. Anything. The first thing you've said in reference to us hooking up."
"I didn't mean to hurt you."
"You came in my mouth, then ignored me for a week."
"I know."
"And I still didn't leave."
"I know."
"I can't do this anymore."
"I know."
"But I wanna do it, Tek."
"I…" I can't finish the sentence.
“Is it because I’m a guy, or is it because I’m Eden’s brother?”
“I wish it were that easy of an answer.”
The kettle starts steaming, and Carey uses the end of the towel to wrap around the handle and pull it away from the flames. “You’re the only one who’s making it hard.”
“I don’t know why you like me so much.”
“Fuck off.” Carey’s head hangs down. “That’s such a cop out… I should have known you’d try to put this on me.”
“I’m not. I just don’t understand. You’ve not historically been my biggest fan.”
“You’re an asshole.” Carey takes the kettle and stands.
“I’ve kissed your ass for the past month.
I’ve taken your shit, and I’ve had a smile on my face the whole goddamn time.
And if you’re talking about before—as in the last time I saw you, when I was fifteen?
Then the reason I didn’t talk to you back then is because I…
” He falters, his forehead creased and his eyes unfocused on the ground between us.
“The…” He tries again. “The reason I didn’t say anything is because I couldn’t be around you. ”
I stare up at him but I’m too much of a coward to say anything.
“I… You were…”
“I was what?” I whisper.
“You were my fucking sexual awakening,” he spits down at me.
“You. Your Instagram page and those fucking gym pics. You were the first guy that made me hard. You were the first guy I jerked off to. And then I see you again in person, and… You’re the reason I know I’m bi.
When Eden asked me to go to the shop I refused because I didn’t want this to happen.
But he begged, and I was fucked the second I walked through those doors…
I want you, Tek. And if you don’t feel the same, then… then I can’t work with you anymore.”
“I don’t want you to quit.”
"Then you need to tell me what you want."
I can't.
I’m such a loser.
It’s only four words.
I want you, too.
I know if I say it he'll do everything else—but I need him to do it all.
He’s younger. More reckless.
I’ve got more to lose.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Carey.”
“It’s too late for that.”
“I know.”
“Do you want me?”
“Yes.” The word slips out before I have a chance to stop it.
“Are you gonna do anything about it?”
My gaze falls because I can’t look at his face when I tell him that, “I can’t.”