Chapter 19
Kit
Every single one of them has their phone in their hands. Tucker is probably flirting with half the girls in his class on Snap. Brett is more than likely scrolling Instagram, liking all the same girl's photos, and Bowen…
Judging by the scowl on his face, he’s fighting with Delaney again.
They fight more than they don’t, and no matter how many times Tucker or Brett tells him to break up with her already, he won’t.
They’re addicted to the toxicity at this point.
Blinded by the fragile promise of young love.
Stuck in the idea that the most popular guy should be with the most popular girl. Tale as old as time.
I’ve already seen everything there is to see on social media.
Everyone’s summer vacation pictures, the heavily filtered poolside selfies.
The endless amount of inspiring, deep quotes posted by the same girls who make fun of everyone that they deem below them in real life.
I don’t know why I even have social media, honestly.
I hate everything about it. But if I delete it, I’ll be even more socially distanced than I already am.
Brett sighs and slaps his phone down on his desk. Tucker looks up at him, where he’s perched on the end of the worn brown leather couch, but then his phone beeps, and he looks right back down at it.
“I can’t believe junior year starts tomorrow.
” He stretches his arms above his head and gives me a little smile where I’m lying down in the middle of the floor.
The shaggy rust colored carpet in their attic hangout is past being outdated and straight into vintage territory.
I don’t even want to think about how gross it actually is because it’s so soft.
“Another year of hell. How fun,” I murmur.
He snickers and falls out of the chair on his hands and knees so he can crawl over to me. He sprawls out with a sigh. “Don’t think about it like that, Kat-boy. We still have two more years to get into mischief together.”
“Oh yeah? What do you have in mind? Maybe show up fifteen minutes late to class on Wednesdays? Or, ooo, maybe we can sign up for all the after-school clubs, but then never show up?” I ask sarcastically and laugh when he tickles my side.
“I was thinking maybe we could—”
“If you say some shit about dating my brother, I’m going to have to toss you out the window,” Tucker says without looking up from his phone. Bowen snorts.
Brett’s smile is dazzling. It’s no surprise that the girls love him.
“Sorry to inform you, Tucker, but I’ll be marrying your brother when we’re thirty and alone.
Otherwise, he’ll turn into a book hoarder, and I’ll turn into a crazy cat man.
This way, I’ll just have my Kat, and I’ll show him what real romance is.
We can create some really cute babies to keep my lineage going.
God knows Bowen won’t ever settle down.”
I choke on my spit and sit up. “You never said anything about babies.” He’s been telling me we’ll get married when we’re thirty for years.
I don’t know if it's to make me feel better about none of the boys ever liking me, or if it's his way of having a backup plan for both of us because I won’t find anyone by then, and he’s too damn picky.
I should be insulted, honestly, but it’s so cute, I can’t even be mad.
“Yep, babies. I can’t put babies in you, but a surrogate works. Maybe we’ll get lucky and have a set of twins. They’ll have your little button nose. I was thinking of C names. You’ll be the absolute best dad. Or do you want to be Daddy, and I’ll be Dad? Or Papa? How does the gay dad thing work?”
I stare at him, dumbfounded.
He laughs, and the sound is so much deeper than it used to be. “Oh yeah, Kit. We’re having babies. We can practice the old-fashioned way still, right?” He wiggles his black eyebrows at me, and I wrinkle my nose at him.
“You’re not putting your dick anywhere near my baby brother, dude.”
“I’d have to agree with Tucker,” Bowen says, and I shoot him a surprised look but he’s still looking at his phone, his frown even deeper than it was a few minutes ago.
Brett clutches his chest, rolling his head to the side to look at the two guys who just cockblocked his dicks hypothetical future escapades.
“I’m hurt. You’d rather our precious Kit end up with some random loser than me?
Me? Who has loved him for sixteen years?
” I snort at his high-pitched voice and dramatics.
I know Brett loves me. We say it to each other all the time.
But I’ve never deluded myself into thinking it was anything more than what it is.
My absolute best friend. My soul mate, but in a totally non-romantic way.
Not that the idea hasn’t crossed my mind a few times, but I quickly shut it down.
I don’t feel that way about him, just my confusing hormones sometimes think about it.
The only guy that I have ever liked just happens to share the same face.
Well, it's mostly the same. But the souls are different, and Brett’s is mine in a friendship way.
I will always want him, but I don’t want to have sex with him. That would be so wrong.
“I’ll risk the hoarding problem,” I tease, falling back to the soft carpet.
He turns his blue eyes to me, alight with humor. “Never, Kat. I’ll be the best husband.” Then he rolls and pounces, blowing a giant raspberry on my cheek until I’m kicking and screaming with laughter, shoving at him with my hands.
That's when it vibrates.
Brett pauses mid-laugh. “Oooh,” he sing songs, snatching it from my grip before I can react. “Who is texting my future husband?”
“Brett…give that back.”
He lights up when he sees the name. “Jude?” He screeches. “Jude Michaels? Kit! This is espionage!”
“You don’t even know what that means.” I lunge for the phone, but he rolls away, holding it above his head. “Give me my phone!”
“Does Jude want a piece of my hubby?” Brett gasps dramatically. “Wait. Is this revenge flirting? Because I’d allow it. But I demand a formal apology and a duel at dawn…”
“What are you even talking about?” I hiss, still scrambling over him. He’s snickering too hard to hold the phone properly.
“Jude. The guy who pushed me off the swing in second grade and broke my arm?” Bowen asks, sounding bored. He still doesn’t bother looking up from his phone except for maybe a glance. Long enough to show me how unimpressed he is with my guy choices. I want to flip him off.
“You should have held on tighter.”
“Oooo, victim blaming,” Brett mock whispers, looking between his brother and I with a fire burning in his eyes that I very much do not like.
I roll my eyes and tuck my phone safely in my back pocket. “We were all impulsive kids. He didn’t mean for you to break your arm, Bowen.”
“Jude, the guy that got pissed when he didn’t make varsity football sophomore year like I did, so he tripped me on the bleachers,” he continues, ignoring me.
Oh.
I smile brightly. “You barely fell.”
Bowen looks at me for longer than he has in what feels like months. It only amounts to maybe twenty seconds. Twenty seconds I both love and hate, and it feels like a physical blow when he sniffs, looking away. “Let's go, Tucker.”
And just like that, I’m dismissed.
Tucker groans but follows. Brett throws me a look and mimes an exaggerated yikes face before whispering, “Someone’s got his compression shorts in a twist.”
I don’t laugh.
Not this time.
Because something’s different. That wasn’t the Bowen I know. Not the one who used to shove me into the lake and laugh when I swore revenge. Not the one who’d pull me aside to ask if I was okay without actually saying the words.
This version of him, cool and unreadable, feels like a stranger.
And I don’t know if I should be relieved…or heartbroken.
I stare at my phone long after they’re gone, screen lit with Jude’s text.
Jude: wanna hang?
Jude: Just drive around or something. No pressure.
I should say no. I don’t even like him like that.
But I need…something.
Something outside of Brett’s matchmaking and Bowen’s quiet, unreadable moods. I need to think. I need to breathe.
Me: sure. when?
Jude: Now?
Me: yeah, okay
I sit up, brushing stray carpet fuzz off my shirt. Brett peeks over from the couch and raises an eyebrow. “That Jude again?”
“Yeah.” My voice is a little hoarse. “He asked to hang out.”
Brett watches me for a beat, then shrugs, smile faint. “Nice. Change of scenery might be good. You’ve been around us too much anyway.” He tries to laugh, but it comes out uneven.
I glance at him. “You okay?”
He waves me off. “Me? I’m fine. Just don’t let him bore you to death. Or murder you. But mostly bore you.”
“Thanks, that’s so comforting.”
He stands up with me, nudging my shoulder gently. “Come on. I’ll walk you down.”
We head through the kitchen and out the sliding back door.
The sun’s starting to dip lower, golden light slanting across the backyard.
Bowen and Tucker are shooting hoops; Tucker’s shirt is already soaked through with sweat.
Delaney is perched on the edge of the deck, sipping soda, one leg dangling off the side.
She fits. It doesn’t even phase me anymore when she shows back up after only a few days of them having broken up.
I don’t think anyone takes them seriously anymore, anyway.
Brett cups his hands around his mouth. “OOOOOOO, Kit has a date!”
Tucker drops the ball, panting. “With who?”
“Jude, obviously, Tuck. Did you somehow miss the whole…” Brett tilts his head, looking at my big doofus of a brother. “Ya know what, big guy? Never mind. But Jude!”
Tucker grimaces. “Ew.”
Delaney looks over with a raised brow, suddenly very interested.
I know in my bones she's not dumb. Girls seem to be way more observant than guys, especially when it has anything to do with their guy. I know that she knows. She watches me with sharp eyes sometimes. It was worse when Boe was always finding reasons to touch me. He’s better about that now.
Bowen doesn’t react to the news. Not that I expected him to. He just catches the ball when Tucker bounces it back, then pivots and shoots. It hits the rim, bounces once, and rolls across the yard. Still, he doesn’t look at me.
Brett elbows me, grinning like he always does. “Go get ‘em, lover boy.”
I try to ignore how it's dimmer this time. A little hollow.
I force a smile, giving him quiet thanks before heading to the front to wait for Jude. I shoot my mom a text that I’m hanging with a friend for a while. The perks of being a kid who never gets in any trouble is she doesn’t keep me on a tight leash.
I try to pretend I’m excited, but I can’t help but feel like I’m running away.