Chapter Nine Bro Code
Chapter Nine
Bro Code
For the second night in a row, sleep eludes Owen.
This time, rather than wrestle with the comforter and risk waking up Kevin, he dresses quietly, pulling on his sweatpants
and hoodie from the night before. After the spa, the group had gone their separate ways for a few hours. Kaitlyn and Abigail
had reservations of their own for a date night, Kevin went to “meet up” with a girl he met at the sail-away party, and Jacob . . .
Well, Owen didn’t really know where Jacob had gone. That was until Kaitlyn and Abigail convinced Owen to join them at a stand-up
show at one of the clubs.
Of course he spied Jacob first.
“What are you doing here?” Owen asked.
“Kaitlyn and Abby invited me, said there was a show?”
Owen grumbled, then rolled his eyes at the text from Kaitlyn that they were running late. Eventually, the show started, and
Owen and Jacob were directed inside, forced to sit next to each other as several comics took the stage one right after the
other.
The only time Owen cracked a smile was when Jacob leaned over to whisper something in his ear about how awful the first act had been. Owen had to cover his mouth when he accidentally let out a snort during the setup of a joke, earning the ire of a few nearby passengers.
“Respect the artist.” Jacob nudged him, giggling softly.
Owen had to stop himself, remember that it wasn’t normal. Their friends weren’t around, so there was no need to keep up the
act of civility. But for the remainder of the show, all he could think about was how Jacob’s shoulder was pressed right against
his, how their knees were almost touching, save for those thirty precious seconds when Owen was too tired to keep pretending and he let his thigh fall against
Jacob’s.
Just for a bit.
Kaitlyn apologized when she met up with them at the room later, saying that she and Abby had gotten held up at dinner. Owen
didn’t comment on how Kaitlyn and Abigail seemed very comfortable in the suite, dressed in their pajamas already, like they’d been settled in for a few hours.
Packing his sketchbook and his headphones in his shoulder bag, Owen makes his way out of the suite and down the short hallway
to the private lounge area.
Despite the early—or late—hour, the lounge is still open, though there isn’t a soul to be found. The bar sits empty, the televisions
turned off, the overhead lights dimmed to provide the perfect ambiance as the clock ticks toward sunrise.
Thankfully, there’s a self-service coffee station where Owen can make himself a quick drink before he makes himself comfortable
in one of the large lounge chairs, sliding open one of the doors to the balcony so that he can appreciate the cool breeze.
He doesn’t pull out his drawing supplies right away.
Instead, Owen decides that he wants to just sit with himself, hands warmed by the paper cup, breathing in the nutty aroma of the coffee.
Outside the window gulls caw as they fly by, and in the distance, he can hear the crashing of the waves as the ship slices through the ice-cold water, and the breeze carries the smell of salt that Owen can’t help but take a deep breath of.
According to the “Where Are We?” feature in the cruise app, they’re closing in on Sitka, making their way up the sound. They’ll
probably be docking within the next few hours, perfectly timing it to when most of the passengers will be waking up. Kaitlyn
had given them the rundown of everything they’d signed up for. Their morning would begin with a breakfast on the water at
one of the town’s most popular spots. After that, they’d been signed up for a candle-making course, though Kaitlyn assured
them that there were plenty of other classes that they could sign up for if no one wanted to work with wax. After that, they’d
have a bit of downtime, and Abigail suggested a few museums, or they could join the group that’s going on a tour of the various
totem poles around town.
And for their afternoon activity, they’d been given a choice.
A hike or whale-watching.
Whale-watching won out, four to one. Only Abigail had voted for hiking and proceeded to spend the rest of the night sulking
about it while Kaitlyn promised they’d go hiking in Juneau. Besides, the argument had been made that they’d all want to save
their energy for the New Year’s Eve party happening later.
As the sky begins to fade from the deepest blues to soft greens, Owen finally pulls out his sketchbook, starting with the lines of the horizon, keeping his pencil loose and quick. He’s never been one for landscapes, not since high school when his art teacher made him paint them.
The tops of the mountains crack along the surface of the cloudless sky, breaking up the blend of purple and green and orange
that’s starting to appear with the rising sun, the forest painting the peaks in lush colors as the trees trail down the sides
of the mountain ranges. A few scattered settlements and homes dot the coastline, the sand a useful contrast that cuts between
the earthy colors that Owen uses for the woods and the deep blue of the water.
It’s therapeutic for Owen to quiet his mind, to let his hand follow the law of nature. With little room for interpretation,
he can simply let the drawing be what it needs to. Of course he does have to improvise with how quickly the ship is moving—it’s
not too long before Owen’s completely lost his original subject matter—but by that point, everything is coming together nicely,
and he’s able to fill in the gaps.
“That’s beautiful.”
Owen turns to find Kevin towering over him, dressed in black sweatpants and a tank top that shows off his thick biceps the
way Kevin loves to.
“Thanks.” Owen sets down the colored pencils that’ve collected in his lap.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Kevin asks, taking a seat across from Owen, kicking his feet up onto the side table, and reclining back.
“That’s like, the second night in a row?”
Owen shakes his head. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”
“You did, but it’s okay.” Kevin shrugs. “I’m headed to the gym to get some lifting in. Wanna tag along? I need a spotter.”
“I’m not really sure how much help I’d be,” Owen says, turning his attention back to his sketchpad.
His relationship with Kevin’s always been a little tenuous. “Brother of my boyfriend’s sister’s wife” doesn’t exactly roll
off the tongue. He’d call Kevin a friend, despite the difference in their age. Still, five years feels like just enough to make things awkward every now and then.
Kevin’s still smiling. “Come on, some exercise might do you some good, get you out of this funk! Always helps me.”
He’s not wrong—Owen used to be a regular at the Y with Jacob. He never weight-lifted all that much, or really did anything
harder than cardio and water aerobics classes some early Saturday mornings. But maybe Kevin is right? Getting out of his own
head can only help the situation.
Kevin gives Owen enough time to leave his things back in the room and change into shorts. The gym is fancy, treadmills, ellipticals, and bike machines all lined up in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, giving anyone doing their
cardio a gorgeous view outside.
The more involved machines are a bit further back. Chest press, lateral press, and curling machines, weight benches, and some
all-in-one machine that Owen can’t even begin to decipher how to use until Kevin makes a rush for it.
He leaps into the air, grabbing onto two handlebars covered in vibrant yellow rubber. With ease, Kevin lifts himself into
the air a few times, crossing his legs and counting the reps through heavy grunting before he lets go.
“Ah!” Kevin flexes his arms, stretching them out. “Feels good, right?”
“I, uh . . .” Owen stares. “I don’t think that’s really my style.”
Kevin is giddy as he gives Owen a love tap on the shoulder.
“Come on, let’s do warm-ups,” he says, leading Owen over to a row of vacant treadmills.
The gym is mostly empty this early in the morning, but there are a handful of people grunting and moaning through their reps, weights falling to the floor as they finish their sets.
Owen taps a few buttons, keeping things simple with low resistance. The next time he looks over at Kevin, he sees the man
walking at what looks like an almost forty-five-degree incline.
“So . . . what’s got you so distracted, do you think?” Kevin asks.
“Why are you asking me that?”
Already huffing through his open mouth, Kevin braces himself against the sides of the treadmill, picking up the speed. “Because
you’re my friend. And I care about you.”
Owen’s almost touched. Almost.
“Did Abby put you up to this? Or Kaitlyn?”
A look of surprise washes over Kevin’s face. “You know, Owen, I’m appalled that you’d suspect that I don’t care about you.
I woke up, realized you were gone, and came hunting for you out of the kindness of my heart!” He even puts a hand over his
chest, as if his feelings are actually hurt.
“Oh . . . shit.” Owen’s stoic expression sinks into a frown. “I’m sorry, Kev.”
“It’s okay,” he says, smiling again in an instant. “It was Abby, she asked me to keep an eye out for you.”
Owen rolls his eyes.
“I told her you’re an adult, and capable of taking care of yourself, but I guess they’re worried about you and Jacob being
so close to each other.”
“At least someone here has confidence in me.” Owen watches the ticking timer, stomach sinking when he realizes only minutes have passed.
“Yeah . . . trust me, she means well. Abby always hovered over me growing up—she was hella protective. Used to beat up my
bullies on the playground. Which worked when I was younger but I got taller than her quick so it just got kinda sad for the
both of us.”
“Kaitlyn’s not much different,” he tells Kevin. “Sometimes it feels like she’s afraid I’ll break.”
“It’s nice that they both care,” Kevin adds, breath still heavy. “But I get how that could be suffocating.”
“And I’m not worried about being around Jacob,” Owen adds.
“I didn’t say you were” is all Kevin says. Which tells Owen that he doesn’t believe a word.
“What?”