Chapter 20
Twenty
Tristan
Watching my brother as he went for another huge bowl of spaghetti, dumping a shitload of parmesan on top, I asked him, "So what's the homework situation like for the weekend?"
See? I was learning. Every damn day, I made it a point to ask him about each subject, going over upcoming projects, posters, book reports, every single thing that was happening in his school life.
I'd given him a planner too, and sometimes he actually remembered to write stuff in it.
It'd been weeks since we'd had an emergency late-night project. Sure, it was bound to happen at some point in the future, but for now, I would call this a major win.
He shrugged. "I just have some math."
"Just math? That's not bad."
Not bothering to answer, he took an enormous bite from his fork, letting the rest of the noodles fall back into his bowl. Someday, I'd really have to work on his table manners. If he ever got over his shyness around girls and actually went on a date, she'd for sure be repulsed watching him eat.
But that was for another day. Baby steps. Some mom that had chatted me up at the eighth grade open house had told me some valuable advice that had served me well so far... to choose your battles with kids this age.
While he dug in for another bite, I looked away at the kitchen surrounding us, my mind as usual drifting to her.
What was she doing right now?
That was always my biggest question. It was driving me insane not to know where she was, who she was with, even her goddamn name. This was by far the weirdest relationship I'd ever been in. If one could even call it that.
What was this exactly?
I had no fucking clue. And I hated that fact with a passion.
We'd shared what I thought was an incredible night when she'd come over here for dinner, despite the hiccups that had occurred. She'd been so understanding though, going with the flow, not mad or annoyed at Archie interrupting what was supposed to be a romantic rooftop date.
And my God, it had been romantic. And fucking hot. That massage she'd given me had been my sustenance for the last week. And the hand-holding too.
Never in my life had holding hands with someone felt so right, or been a big deal. To be honest, I didn't think I'd ever really indulged in it before, probably because it seemed kind of pointless. Any time I had, it was most likely because she'd reached for me.
For the first time in my existence, I'd reached for her.
And what does she do?
She ghosts me for another entire week.
A fucking week. What the hell was this about?
I knew for a fact that she'd had a great time, the way she'd smiled and laughed, her cheeks turning pink behind her mask. You couldn't fake that kind of physical reaction.
"So what about you?" Archie asked.
Jerking my head back to the table, I stared at my brother across from me. "Huh? What?"
He looked at me like I was the biggest dumbass on the planet. "How was your day?" he said slowly, like I had difficulty with my hearing. "I've only had to ask you like three times."
My mouth fell open. "What? You're seriously asking me about my day?"
That was rare. Like a once-in-a-lifetime question from this kid.
He lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "Yeah. Just trying to make conversation so you don't keep obsessing about her."
There was no use pretending like I didn't know who he was talking about. "I'm not obsessing."
Archie snorted. "You're the definition of obsessing."
"Am not."
"Am too."
God, this kid was dragging me down to acting juvenile right now instead of me lifting him up to my level. So I resisted arguing back and instead returned to his original question.
"My day was fine." Not really. "Thank you."
"No problem, dude." He stopped eating to pile on more meatballs.
"Don't forget your salad," I reminded him, my eyes going to the completely untouched vegetables.
"I'm saving the best for last," he said with a smirk.
Yeah, right. If anyone out there had pointers for getting a thirteen-year-old boy to eat more vegetables, I sure would love to hear it.
"So..." he said. "Question for you."
"Yeah?" This should be interesting.
"Why do you and Dad even like your jobs? Isn't it kinda messed up?"
I blinked at him, his words hitting me like a punch in the gut. On many levels. "What? Seriously?" I blurted out, not thinking. "How do you even know what we do?"
"You guys think I don't pay any attention, but I do."
Wow. Just wow. What in the hell was going on? "It's... complicated. You'll understand when you get older."
He scoffed at me, then proceeded to talk around a mouthful of food. "What exactly is there to understand? You basically kick people out of their homes, right?"
Great. This is what my little brother thought of me? "It's not that simple. People sell their places and they get a lot of money for it. It's business. It's progress."
He took one bite of his salad and proceeded to choke it down. "Whatever you say, bro."
Why did this whole conversation make me feel like shit? I knew I was right. Wasn't I?
"So, another question for you," Archie said.
My stomach clenched. "Yeah?"
"Would you rather step on nails then have to run through fire, or stick a pin in your eye and then your eardrum?"
These would-you-rather questions killed me, and I had no idea what his fascination with them was. "Nails and fire. For sure."
"Really? I'd way rather do the pin one."
My phone pinged, and I saw it was a text, my heart rate kicking up at the possibility that it could be her. Picking it up, disappointment shot through me. And then annoyance. Because it was another fucking text asking me if I was interested in adding at least three inches to my manhood.
Archie grabbed my phone out of my hand and read it out loud.
"Still unhappy with your teeny peeny? Want to add at least three inches? Ninety-seven percent of men saw results in two weeks! Why wait? Order now!"
His face turned red with laughter. "Teeny peeny," he repeated over and over between bouts of hilarity.
Between the penile enlargement and erectile dysfunction ads all over my social media feeds and all the calls for let's just say very interesting cruises, I'd just about had it. What fresh hell had I entered into?
I was this close to changing my number. This close. But...
It was my only lifeline to her. And even with my actual number, she barely kept in touch. Barely. So if I did change it, I might as well kiss any chance of anything happening with her goodbye.
My phone made another noise, and I grabbed it back from him, but not before he gasped and let out a high pitch shriek.
"Oh my God, it's her! It's her!" he squealed. "And you have her in your phone as 'masked beauty?'"
He fell onto the table in laughter as I answered it, practically sprinting to my room in an attempt at privacy. If I was lucky, she hadn't heard him and the laughter that followed me up the stairs.
Damn this open layout that amplified sounds.
"Hey, Roxie," I said, trying my best not to breathe hard in her ear.
My mystery woman laughed. "It's not Roxie. Good guess though."
"I'll get it one of these days. Maybe when I'm sixty-nine."
She laughed again. "Nice number."
"Yeah, Archie's obsessed with that number. Although I'm not one-hundred percent sure he understands what it really means. Thank God."
"Oh, you're not going to explain it to him?"
I sighed, shutting the door and crossing over to the sitting area I had over by the windows. "I guess I'll have to soon."
"Uh-oh, the big talk, huh?"
This was a very strange way to start off our conversation, especially when all I wanted to do was ask her why... why had she waited so damn long to call me back?
"Yeah, the big talk." Sitting down in the chair, I rubbed at the back of my neck. "Obviously, he knows the basics, just not the more advanced stuff. I'm determined to talk to him about all that, though, just waiting till he's a little more settled in."
"That's very brave of you."
That felt fucking nice. At least someone appreciated my efforts. I wasn't doing this for praise or any kind of acknowledgement from my father or his ex or even Archie.
My motivation was simple—an attempt to give my little brother a home life that I could only dream about as a kid. But it was still nice to hear a good word every once in a while.
"I just don't want him to grow up like I did," I admitted. "No one talked to me about anything. I was completely clueless and had to figure everything out for myself."
"That's terrible," she said, voice full of sympathy. "Your dad didn't talk to you?"
"Hell no. Which I guess in retrospect I'm not mad about," I said with a wry laugh, shaking off the image of my dad actually talking to me about all of this shit.
"Well, judging by our night together, it didn't seem to cause you any long-term damage."
My eyes nearly popped out of my head because, damn, I couldn't believe she just said that. Was that a fucking compliment?
There was a long pause where I could practically feel her embarrassment through the phone.
"Um," she hummed. "I'm just going to hang up now."
"No, no, no. Please don't. We've just barely gotten started, baby." That sentence could cover our whole situationship. "You know I think about that night all the time."
Silence.
I realized suddenly how that came across. "Not because of the sex, you perv. Well, not just because of the sex. Because of the connection. I've never hit it off like that with another soul in my life."
Nothing from her. Or so I thought. Because then the sweetest words I'd ever heard came over the line.
"I feel the same."
I wanted to shout. I wanted to scream it from the rooftops that this girl had just admitted something monumental. She'd actually said, "I feel the same." She feels the fucking same?
But then, like that was too much for her, she swiftly changed the subject. "So how was your day? How's work going?"