Chapter 71 Brett
Brett
They're sickening to watch.
Truly.
Sweeter than the frosted donut I stuck Sour Patch Kids on twenty minutes ago. Sweet enough to make your teeth ache and so. Damn. Clueless.
Kit is writing in his birthday journal. Every year, he adds an entry in the same brown leather-bound book that Bowen got him for his tenth birthday.
His pale cheeks are rosy, and he keeps peeking up at Bowen through his lashes, chewing on the end of his pen.
And my big ol’ dumb brother? He walked over here a second ago and stopped a little in front of Kit in the grass. When he looked down and realized the sun was still hitting Kit's face, he looked back out to the lake and just…casually stepped the two and a half steps up and one over.
Kit doesn't even realize he's shaded now. He's too busy making goo goo eyes at my big dummy of a brother and probably drawing little K + B = love hearts in his notebook.
A couple of years ago, Bowen would have put sunscreen on Kit's neck and cheeks and brushed his hair out of his eyes long enough to ask him if he needed water. Now, Bowen flexes his fist in his pocket because we have well and truly entered his ‘repressed and clueless’ era.
“Kat-boy, make sure you add how much you love me in there. Oh, and don't forget the bit about how you have a crush on that one guy.” I smirk around the handful of Cheetos I shove in my mouth. Bowen, man. He's too damn easy to rile up.
His head snaps down to look at Kit, and Kit looks up to frown at me. “What guy?”
I roll my eyes obnoxiously. “Oh, come on. That guy with the dark hair that you were drooling over last week.”
Kit's frown deepens. He's probably trying to remember if there are actually guys that exist other than my twin.
It was Bowen. He was wearing tight athletic shorts the last day of school, and I'm pretty sure I clocked the exact moment Kit saw them and had heart palpitations.
“Was it Jude?” Bowen asks, careful and easy. Like his jaw doesn't tense. Like he's not suddenly standing stock still. I wanna boo and toss my chips at him for being so dumb.
“Oh, wouldn't you like to know?” I tease. Bowen shoots me a narrow glare, and I smile.
“Jude,” Kit says, like he's wading through every faceless blob in his head. Trying to figure out which non-Bowen one is Jude. “The guy with the big d—”
“Kitten,” Bowen barks, eyes wide with alarm. Oh, this is so good.
Kit scrambles off his belly and stands. He throws his hands out. “Dimples! Big dimples!”
“Sure, kitten, dimples.” Bowen advances, and Kit stumbles backwards. His pink cheeks are beet red now.
“That's what I was going to say, you Neanderthal. You cut me off.” Bowen reaches for Kit, and Kit squeals, taking off for the lake.
Bowen stands there for a heartbeat, watching Kit giggle as he runs for the water.
Bowen's throat works with his swallow, his lips quirking in that half grin reserved strictly for our best friend.
Then he takes off after him, and I'm left to watch Bowen eat up the distance.
He catches Kit by the end of the dock, wrapping an arm around his waist before flinging both of them into the water.
I snicker and crawl over to the notebook left in the sunny grass. I cringe when my Cheeto orange fingers leave prints on the page he was writing on, but I turn to the very last page in the book. I grab the pen and smile down at the message I scrawl on the page.
Dear Kat-boy,
I give it a year. Maybe a few if he's being particularly stupid.
But Bowen loves you like I love Cheetos, baby. ;)
I'll be in the front row at your wedding, screaming ‘I told you so’ and blubbering like a baby. Can't wait.
Love always, Brett-man.
<3
I close the notebook and take off for the lake, arms flailing above my head and a war cry scaring the birds from the trees.
Life is beautiful.
THE END