Chapter 8
Kit
Brett claps his hands, a round of applause for one. Himself. “See? Perfect. Bowen’s the muscle. I’m the brains. Kit’s the bait.”
“I’m the what?”
But it’s too late. My mom is already laughing into her coffee mug and waving us off with a, “Be back in a half hour, and don’t let my kid get abducted.”
I glare at Brett the entire way down the driveway. Or try, it’s hard when I’m tied to Bowen like a dog. I can’t even take myself seriously, and judging by Brett’s random bursts of laughter, neither can he.
Yep. How did he convince my mom to let me walk to the store with them? Stringing me up to Bowen.
Literally.
He pulled the yarn out of his pocket and everything.
“Why didn’t you tie yourself to me?” I mutter, yanking slightly at the itchy yarn knotted between us.
“Because,” Brett says, skipping, “if you get flustered at someone trying to kidnap you, I’ll panic.
Bowen doesn’t panic. He just”—Brett shrugs, scratching his head—“lifts things. Like, emotionally? But also physically. Plus, let’s be honest, if one of us is gonna accidentally fall into traffic, it’s me. ”
“True,” Bowen agrees, glancing down at me. His arm is warm where we’re connected.
I glare harder. “This is embarrassing.”
“I’m just keeping you safe, Kat-boy,” Brett says solemnly, then immediately ruins it by snorting. “Besides, look at you two. Like a couple of lost ducklings.”
I ignore both of them the rest of the way to the store.
We’re halfway through the snack aisle when Brett disappears, loudly announcing, “I’m gonna go grab gum and pretend I don’t know you weirdos. Who ties themselves together like that? Boyfriends!”
“Do not call us that,” I hiss after him, but it’s too late. He’s already oohing and ahhing over the chips in another aisle, leaving Bowen and me alone.
Tied together.
Do we look like…boyfriends?
Bowen doesn’t seem bothered. He’s currently crouched, looking at the bottom shelf full of gummies with a very focused expression. Clearly, an important decision is being made.
Meanwhile, I’m looking back and forth from Bowen to the candy bars stacked high above a counter on the other side of the aisle.
“I’m just gonna…” I step towards them, tugging our connected wrists together. “Okay, that’s not gonna…”
“Want something up there?” Bowen asks.
I shrug, glaring up at the candy bars. “Why are they all the way up there, anyway?”
Bowen doesn’t respond, but he’s already turning, already slipping behind me, gripping my waist like it’s the most normal thing to do in the world. And then…
My feet are off the ground, and I’m rolling my eyes so hard. Show off.
I barely have time to fix my expression when I’m set down on the edge of the counter, feet dangling like a toddler. My face is hot.
“There,” Bowen says, nonchalantly.
I reach for a Snickers bar with my free hand, the other awfully sweaty all of a sudden. I’ve got my candy bar and am about ready to ask Bowen to back the heck up so I can hop down, when Brett comes barreling around the corner dramatically.
Arms outstretched. Voice far too loud for a store this small.
Singing.
Singing that song from Dirty Dancing.
I freeze. Bowen snorts. Brett keeps going, twirling down the aisle towards us like a possessed boy who watches way too many of his mom’s old movies. My flushed face just makes him sing louder.
“Seriously?” I shoot him with what I can only hope are laser eyes. Sadly, no lasers, but an awful lot of annoyance.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Brett sings. “I didn’t realize we were doing The Lift in the snack aisle today.”
Bowen is trying not to laugh. Not sure if it’s his brother or my face, but he’s trying. Failing, but trying.
“I’m gonna kill you,” I murmur, pushing Bowen so I can hop down. Bowen doesn’t budge.
Brett is grinning like a little demon, tossing a pack of gum in the air. “Death threats, kitten? You’re getting feisty. Is it puberty? I bet it’s puberty. I have like…whole bushes under my arms now. It’s wild. And don’t even get me started on what’s going on down bel—”
I quietly shriek, turning and walking towards the register. My face is on fire, fist clenched around the stupid Snickers, when Brett calls after me.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“I’m leaving you,” I snap, ready to speed walk to anywhere he is not. Only… I get about two steps before my arm yanks violently backward, and I let out a startled squeak as I’m slingshotted back into Bowen.
He catches me with swift but gentle hands, steadying me. If my face was warm before, it’s positively scorched now. I envision whipping the stupid Snickers at Brett’s wheezing face.
“Oh my God,” he chokes out between laughs, clutching a shelf for support. “Are you embarrassed? I bet you’re so embarrassed.”
I press my forehead to Bowen’s chest in utter, miserable defeat.
“This is the worst day of my life,” I mutter into the fabric of his black hoodie.
“You say that all the time,” Bowen says, patting my head like I really am a freaking toddler.
“Well, I mean it this time,” I grit out, voice muffled.
We leave the store with Brett still humming "Time of My Life" under his breath and Bowen tossing gummies up with our joined hands. Like, my arm being attached to his isn’t a bother at all. I’m just the dummy getting his arm raised and lowered over and over while I rip into my Snickers with my other hand.
Maybe it is puberty.
I contemplate that, balancing on the curb as we make our way back home.
I’ve never been the most coordinated person and nearly fall twice when Bowen’s other hand reaches over to hold onto me, gummies tucked into the pocket of his hoodie.
He’s chewing a mouthful of them when I look over. He’s already watching me, his crooked smirk on his face.