33 Brandon
Brandon
In the elevator, Brandon stares at Jon. Connor. Whatever. He’s pale and staring at his hand. The bandages the marshals wrapped around it are turning pink.
“I really liked you,” Brandon says. Oh fuck, he can feel himself starting to cry.
Connor looks up at him. “I’m bleeding.”
“I thought we had a connection.”
“We did.” He shrugs, his face a sleepy smile. “I’m good at that. Making connections. Half the job.”
“So it was all fake?” Brandon wipes his nose with the back of his wrist. He feels like a child.
“Sort of. To seduce someone, you need to be honest about some stuff, make some of the connection real. You have to give a little of yourself to feel it.” Connor laughs a little. “I am so lightheaded.”
“So you did feel it?”
“Sure. As much as I ever do.”
“You ‘ever do’?” The elevator dings, and the marshals, who have been pointedly avoiding eye contact with Brandon and Connor, begin moving him out into the hall. Brandon follows. “What do you mean, as you ‘ever do’?”
“I like seducing hot guys. It’s half the fun of being a spy.”
“Fun?”
“Yeah. It’s all just for fun, right?”
Brandon stops on the sidewalk, but the marshals keep carrying Connor away. The night air tastes like fall leaves, and the wind is rustling through Brandon’s hair and making the tears on his cheeks feel cold. He wipes them away and takes a deep breath. Then he smiles.
He called Brandon hot .