Текст книги "Rock"

Автор книги: Anyta Sunday

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

Did Dad ever love her? Certainly not truly, madly, deeply.

I stare at the three sets of knives and forks before me, polished to a shine.

Jace shifts and fiddles with the edge of the white tablecloth. A silent storm of emotion brews at our

table. Lila and Dad are lost in the past, lost in each other. The rest of us are lost in various degrees of

hurt.

Except I don’t understand why Jace is hurt. He and his mum won, so shouldn’t he be grinning?

Unless he feels bad for us.

I have to break the tension before Annie notices. She’s been perfectly open and loving since our

camping trip, and I don’t want her to regress. “Is that where you were converted into a Halloween

freak?”

Dad and Lila drop hands and Dad laughs. “You could say that.”

The rest of lunch is pleasant, though stiff. Every now and then Jace touches the hook making a

bump in his shirt, but he only looks at me once to laugh when an oyster pops free of its shell and lands

in his water glass.

After dessert, his mum asks, “What’s that you’re hiding under your T-shirt?”

I freeze. I’m not sure why exactly. It’s only a gift after all.

But it’s intimate. They’ll take one look and know.

Jace glances at me, reads my insecurity, and tells her he bought a necklace.

“You know you shouldn’t buy your own greenstone,” Lila says. “It’s only meant to be given to you

by someone who loves you.”

“All this talking about stones,” I say, trying to shake off the unexplainable shivers zipping up my

spine. “You’d think it was my birthday.”

Dad laughs. “Have you given Jace his stone yet?”

“Huh? No, he said he bought it himself!”

A small frown shadows Dad’s face in confusion. “I mean his birthstone. All the rest of us have

gotten ours. What is February anyway?”

I let out a relieved breath. “Amethyst. Which really would make the perfect gift. It’s believed to

sharpen wit, after all.”

Jace laughs and elbows me in the side, scowling. The light nudge sends a whole other set of zings

running through me.

“Also,” I say, our gazes catching for a second, “it’s thought of as a composer’s stone.”

Lila claps. “Yes. How perfect.”

When we arrive home, Jace checks the mailbox instead of going straight inside. I wait for him on

the porch. He’s staring at a large brown envelope as he slowly dawdles up the path. He notices me

watching him and hurries his step.

He rolls the envelope up and holds it at his side. “What’re you waiting for?”

“Want to play video games?” I gesture to the mail. “What’s that?”

“Nothing. Just university preparation stuff.”

Oh. For the second time since lunch, my belly feels hollow. “University.”

The envelope makes a scratchy sound like he’s clutching it tighter. Perhaps he senses that

hollowness, because he drops his gaze. “Give me a minute, and we can crack out the video games.”

Jace starts up the stairs, then stops and looks over the banister to where I’m still moping in the

entryway. “It’s still a year away.”

coal

Ernie and Bert come for a sleepover. We’ve been playing computer games in the gaming room all

night and it’s close to two o’clock in the morning. The guys settle into their coal-colored sleeping bags

on the floor and switch on the TV. “Something’s always on at this time of night,” Ernie says, flicking

through the channels. “Bert, hit the lights.”

The room is sucked into darkness and the TV screen becomes the focal point. I’m sitting on the

couch above the two guys, gripping the arm. Soft grunts and moans fill the room and fill my ears. Bert

and Ernie laugh and shove their hands into their bags.

Ernie looks at me, deadpan. “On the Mohs scale of hardness, I’m like a ten.”

Their sleeping bags start jerking in the middle—

“Need to piss!” I leap up from the couch and hurry out. “Shit.”

“Not having a good time?”

I jump. Jace is trundling back from the bathroom. Like me, he’s in nothing but boxers and a

sleeping shirt.

I shrug. “They’re watching porn.”

“Oh,” Jace says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “And?”

“Well . . . I don’t know.”

“You don’t want to do it? That’s cool.”

“No, I do. But they—they’ve done this before. In front of each other, I mean.”

Jace smiles. “You’re nervous?”

That, and the porn they’re watching isn’t exactly what I would have chosen.

Jace bites his lip and comes closer. “Maybe you need to find someone you feel more comfortable

with?”

I swallow and look down at us, close but not quite touching. With a shaky hand, I touch Jace’s

chest, then curl a fistful of shirt and draw him in close. He steps into it and his body presses against

mine; warm, solid, smelling of soap and citrus. I swallow. “Are you offering?”

Jace laughs softly, the puffs hitting my cheek and skimming to my ear. He doesn’t pull away

immediately. “What if I am?”

Does that mean you're gay too? Or just horny?

He walks back into his room, leaving the door open. An invitation. Just under the skin it bubbles,

and I even step up to the threshold of his room. He’s holding the door, watching me.

“Just a jerk off?” I ask.

“What else would it be?”

His room is dark, but milky light seeps in at the cracks of his curtains. Jace shoves his messy

bedspread back and pats the cleared space.

It’s excitingly awkward. I’m hard, though, and watching Jace touch himself through his piano-key

boxers is making me harder. Through the wall, muffled grunts and moans emanate from the TV.

Jace pulls out a small orange tub from his side drawer. A faint vanilla smell drifts into the air.

“What is that?”

“This, my friend, is the best lube ever.”

He grins and carefully pulls down his boxers, enough to expose his hard length. I’ve seen him

before when he’s dropped his towel on the way to the shower, but never when he’s hard. He’s not quite

as long as me.

He grabs himself and pumps a few times. I shove my hand under my boxers and grab my cock.

When I look up, he’s watching me with heat and hunger in his eyes. He’s as horny as Bert and Ernie

were. He’s as horny as me—

Scooping up some of the lubricant, he leans over and whispers, “You have nothing to hide, Cooper.

Be confident.”

“My hand down my shorts is not confident enough for you?”

“I’m just saying. You’re cool to be yourself in here. I’m your friend. You can trust me. And I trust

you.”

He drops back against the bed and slicks the lube over his cock, pumping slowly. He stares toward

the ceiling but I want his gaze on me. I stand, yank down my shorts and dip my fingers into the cool

lubricant. I rub some over my length, gasping, and then settle down on the bed next to him. Our

shoulders touch, and his muscles quiver as he works his arm.

I jerk myself a few quick times and settle into the same rhythm as Jace, stopping every third stroke

to thumb the head. I roll my eyes toward him. Look at me!

“Jace?”

“Yeah?” he says breathily.

“Swap cocks?” I let mine go and grab his. He’s rock hard but his skin is silky. He gasps, then firmly

wraps his warm hand around my stiffness. “That confident enough for you?”

I moan as the pad of his thumb moves over the slit at my head.

This feels too good to be really happening. I pump him faster. The lube is slick and—I can’t help it.

I’m not going to last long.

Look at me!

He stiffens, body tensing. He grips me harder. I tense too, and we release with guttural groans and

incomprehensible whispers.

Jace keeps his hand on my groin for a few moments longer, still staring toward the ceiling but with

a contented smile quirking his lips. We let each other go and push up onto our elbows. Our stomachs are

covered in spunk that smells like vanilla. I’ll never think the same about vanilla.

I chuckle at this thought, and that’s when I notice how quiet Jace is. The contented smile is gone

and his expression is impassive. He sits up and rests his elbows against his knees and bites his bottom

lip.

“Regretting the mutual jerk?”

“No,” he says, simply. “I’m really not.”

He sighs and grabs a warm washcloth for us. When we’re all tucked back into our boxers, he looks

at me and shrugs. “You heading back in there for another go with the boys?”

I’m not expecting this question, and it feels crass. But why should it?

Because it was more than a jerkoff for me.

“That was enough confidence for one night.”

amber

I raid the liquor cabinet.

Dad and Lila are in bed but I’m not ready to do the same. Not yet, dammit. I’m sixteen, just

finished mock exams . . . I’m going to stay up until midnight at least!

Jace too.

“What are you doing?” he hisses when I procure a quarter-bottle of whiskey.

“Grab two glasses and let’s go to our balcony.”

We sit against the semi-warm wall of the house, whiskey bottle resting between us, gripping our

glasses and watching the last pink streaks fade from the night sky. The amber alcohol burns as it slips

down my throat—it’s how I imagine liquid amber should taste: like smoked wood and honey. It warms

my belly and my veins.

I’m too sensible to take more than one decent slosh, and the fact is a little depressing. I never do

anything crazy or wild. I’m a straight-A student who’s never cut a day of school in his life. A guy whose

only questionable behavior is hanging around Ernie and Bert and their filthy mouths. And mutually

jacking off with a straight guy who is a few vows away from being my stepbrother.

Okay, so maybe I’m a little crazy.

I accidentally slosh whiskey over myself when I catch Jace looking at me.

“Boo,” he says belatedly.

“Dickweed,” I murmur.

He raises a brow. “Really, Cooper. And here I thought you were growing up.”

I’m tipsy. I feel the giggle before it comes out. “I want to do something wild. Do something.”

“Stealing Dad’s whiskey isn’t enough?”

“It’s a start. But I want something to exhilarate me.”

“Being with me isn’t enough?”

An awkward beat passes. At least, I find it awkward because I think Jace knows how good I feel

when we are close.

He’s smiling at me, eyes twinkling.

It’s a joke!

I laugh and quickly stand. “Let’s go for a walk to the cave.”

We duck in to see the glowworms but I’m too restless to be here long and I don’t want to disturb

them. I pull Jace out and drag him further up the creek. Walking in the bush at night lends a mysterious

feel to the already eerie air.

We’ve probably walked the length of our street and are close to the local park. We stop at a pool in

the river. Not the playground kind but the large-expanse-of-field-and-trees-and-river kind. It’s quiet.

Empty. A warm wind pushes us over the pebbly bank to the water.

On the other side of the river, a large rock face looms. A long rope hangs from a tree at the top of it.

Jace bends over and for a moment I think he’s checking out our reflections, but he pulls at his laces

and toes off his shoes. “You want exhilarating?” He grabs my laces too. “Then strip. We’re going for a

swim.”

I laugh. “You can’t be serious. It’s cold in there. And dark. And what about eels?”

“Nothing will harm you.” He peels off his shirt and throws it with his shoes behind him.

Moonlight touches his chest. A breeze pebbles his skin, making him appear wet though he’s not

finished undressing. The greenstone hook stands out against his lighter skin. I want to step closer, touch

it—

Jace unbuttons his jeans and slides his thumbs under the waistband. He doesn’t look at me as he

pulls down his pants and boxer-briefs in one fell swoop. They pool at his feet and he steps out of them.

He dips his foot into the river but I’m not watching his toes ripple the surface of the water, or the

way his calf muscles flex, or even his fine soccer-trained thighs. I’m riveted to his ass and the curve of

his cock, hanging from under a small patch of dark hair. The cock I’d had in my hand; the one I’d

pumped to release. “Yep. Cold, all right.”

I jerk my head away. The whiskey must be working its magic on me because I’m stripping too.

Jace wades into the water, hissing at the cold. When he’s waist deep he looks back at me. I’m naked

and sinking into the pebbles as I step into the water. It’s cold but I’m almost oblivious to that jolt

because I’m experiencing a bigger one.

Jace is still watching me. His gaze zips the length of my body. He smiles and leans back against the

surface. “Didn’t think you’d do it.”

I push into the deep part of the river, where the cool waters cloak my waist. “You don’t think much

of me, do you?”

I wonder if he knows I’m quoting him from that first Halloween. Wonder if he remembers it as

vividly as I do.

Jace smiles and submerges.

He’s hard to see under the water. Movement stirs at my side and something brushes lightly over my

thigh. When Jace comes up again, he’s behind me. Water stirs against my back and Jace draws in air. At

my neck, I feel his words. They’re cheeky at first but the twinge in his voice mellows. “I think plenty of

you, Cooper.”

I turn.

Water drips from his hair onto his nose and runs over the tip. We’re standing close and the air

seems to snap and crackle between us.

“Jace,” I say quietly.

This is your moment to tell him.

He pushes closer, water lapping against my stomach. My heart hammers so hard against my chest

I’m sure it’s going to break a rib.

“Yeah?” He bites his lip for a moment and it’s beautiful. “What’s up, Coop?”

“I—I—”

My foot slips on pebbles and I topple into Jace, smacking his chest as I try to correct myself. Jace’s

feet slip and bang against mine again—

We fall and the water sucks us under. Our bodies slide together as Jace pushes against me to set us

on our feet again. His arm leaves my waist when we are both upright. I splutter up the water I

swallowed.

Jace’s loud laughter echoes off the rocks and bounces off my skin. It tickles in a good way, and I

start laughing too.

We splash each other and laugh hysterically.

We don’t stop until something slithers around my ankle and Jace swears to God it wasn’t him.

“Eel!” I bound for the riverbank.

Jace charges behind me, alternating between swearing and laughing.

“Maybe it’s not an eel. Maybe it’s a freshwater mermaid trying to pull you, her aquamarine

treasure, to the depths where you belong.”

“You researched my birthstone?” I ask as we struggle into our clothes.

“Maybe a little.” He slips his T-shirt over his head. “Did you know aquamarine is thought to cure

the poisoned?”

I do know this. I also know it’s a beryl mineral and ranges from 7.5 to 8 on the Mohs scale—I like

to think I’m an aquamarine in strength of soul and mind, but I fear I break too easily. “If you’re ever

poisoned, Jace, I’ll kiss you better.”

He laughs. I laugh.

We ride that wave home.

chert

When I wake up, I’m in my bed and Jace is plastered over my back. I can feel his breath falling in

regular intervals on the collar of my T-shirt. His arm is around me but a touch lower than usual. My

morning wood is practically poking his forearm and it feels great.

I wiggle down but I only make the situation worse. Now his morning wood is pressing against the

back of my balls. So much for escaping to the bathroom without waking him. I roll my shoulder back so

it hits his chest.

Jace jerks out of sleep, throwing his hands up so fast he bashes the greenstone against his teeth.

“Huh? What?”

“We’ve got school,” I tell him.

He rolls over to check the clock and groans. “Do we have to?”

“Yep. I’d rather get ready now than have Dad come in and yell at us.”

Especially since we’re in the same bed.

Not that anything’s going on under the sheets, but it can’t look good. What would Dad say? Would

he freak out? Would he take it in stride?

It isn’t like we’re related, after all.

Jace leaps out of bed like I’m holding a hot prong to his backside, and zips to his bedroom. I pull

my shit together and am ready a half-hour later. Jace leaves his room at the same time, stuffing a

notebook into his backpack.

It’s been a while, so I scowl at him.

He scowls back. And then it’s off to school. Annie is away on a field trip so it’s just us. I head to

the bus stop and Jace stops me halfway down the driveway.

“Hide in the backseat and I’ll drive you.”

I bite my lip. He’s snuck me out a few times, and every time it’s an adrenalin rush. I freak out

thinking he’ll be pulled over. “Sure,” I say, and head for his hatchback. Like always, we part ways at

school and don’t look back.

Ernie and Bert meet me in the gym with fist bumps and high fives.

Ernie slings an arm around my neck in a headlock. Bert yells out, “Who’s got the Coop?” Ernie

shouts back, “I got the Coop.” Their voices echo in the locker room, eliciting sniggers from our

classmates. With a playful shove, Ernie lets me go. We’re dressing into sports gear when Bert pins a

look to Ernie which can only mean they’re about to gang up on me. I have a feeling I know what it’s

about. They want me to tag along at the school dance coming up. I’ve avoided it the last three years.

Ernie and Bert gesture to all the guys in the changing room.

“Everyone’s going to be there, dude. You gotta come to this dance. It’s our second to last year of

high school! We might actually get lucky this year.”

Someone snorts and Bert narrows his eyes on the culprit. “Shut up, Frank.”

“So will you?” Ernie continues, and Bert in his infinite wisdom adds, “If you don’t, people might

think you’re scared of the girls. Or that you’re a fag.”

The last few years have proven their mouths are bigger than their ass holes for all the shit that

comes out of them. But this is cutting close to home, and heat is rising to my cheeks. I stutter and stuff

on a sneaker, yanking the laces tightly. I don’t dare to look at them. Put your other shoe on, tie it up, get

into the gym.

Ernie crouches to my level. His eyebrows look like one long black caterpillar. “Are you?” he asks

quietly, and when I don’t—can’t—say anything and work the second sneaker, he swears. “Shit, you

are.”

He hasn’t spoken particularly loud but the guys in my class seem to have a gossip radar stronger

than my grandmother’s. The changing room grows eerily quiet. A few shuffles, someone zipping a bag,

and the sound of feet as someone leaves, but the rest is mute. Ernie and Bert are staring at me but the

other guys’ gazes are fixed on the walls, the hooks, or the cubbyholes. Their ears strain, anticipating

whatever’s coming next.

I don’t give it to them. Won’t.

I stuff my clothes into my bag, push past Ernie and Bert, shove the bag into a cubby hole and walk

out of there as calmly as possible.

No one says anything during gym. Near the end Ernie tries to grab my arm, but I shake him off.

When it’s time to change back into my jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt, I zone out until it’s just me and

the wood-paneled corner of the room.

English class comes next. Whispers stir, and guys avoid looking my way. Girls glance at me

furtively, curious and sympathetic.

I scribble harder, concentrating on the text in front of me until the words pop out from the book and

don’t make sense. I’m living in a cocoon of heat, and I’m just wishing it to blow over. I never admitted

anything. They don’t know.

First break comes, and I hole myself up in the library. The whispers will stop soon. I’m not cool

enough for this to be big gossip. By lunchtime, half my class will have forgotten.

But they haven’t. Everywhere I look, someone looks back at me. My toes tingle with the first signs

of panic but I steel myself against it. It’s just a rumor. Stupid rumors. And no one is being a stupid dick

about it anyway. At least not to my face. They all just leave me alone, give me a wider berth than

normal, a berth that is swollen with their whispers. It’s like the telephone game, where each whisper

gets exaggerated, until he might be gay becomes he loves to take it up the ass.

Ernie and Bert are speaking in hushed tones at our brick wall in the courtyard. Bert shrugs and

gestures for me to come over there, but if I do, I’m telling them this is all their fucking fault. Then

they’ll have all the proof they need that they’re right. I am a fag.

I grit my teeth, twist away from them, and scan the courtyard for a new place to sit.

My gaze falls on a familiar figure perched on a bench in the middle of the courtyard.

A skateboarder whizzes past me and jumps onto a low ramp, twisting and landing steadily.

My view opens up once more, and there’s Jace sitting next to Darren and some other dude he hangs

out with. Darren is talking to him, and the way he’s hunched and leaning in has me holding my breath.

Whispers louden and tighten around me like a rope. I can’t move.

Jace frowns and glances over his shoulder toward Ernie and Bert. His mouth moves but I can’t lipread

what he says.

A warm panic stretches up my calves like little shots of electricity. I want to retch.

Jace leaps up from the bench, and the pained expression on his face tells me he’s heard the

whisperings too. The way he swiftly moves toward me tells me more. Not only has he heard, but he

knows it’s true.

My throat aches and my vision blurs with tears. I struggle to blink them back. The sun makes the

moon on Jace’s shirt glint, and his eyes beg me not to run.

That’s when I realize I’m reeling back from him. I’m not ready to have him know. Not like this. I

shake my head. Go away, go away, go away!

When he keeps coming, I turn on my heels and run through the whispering courtyard, behind the

back of the school, and over the soccer fields to the far corner, which is void of life and traps me with

chain-link fences.

“Shit.” I kick at the fence and it rattles.

Panic sweeps through me harder and faster. I need a stone. Need to calm down. I need a bloody

stone!

My breathing is strangled and my chest hurts as I drop to my knees and feel through the grass for a

rock, a stone—something. Blades of grass slice through my fingers as I comb the ground. My sight is

blurry and a tear drops onto the back of my hand. I smear it on the grass and continue to hunt.

I grit my teeth shakily, to stop myself from doing any more of it. Get it together. So what he knows?

He was going to find out eventually.

“Cooper!”

It’s his voice. He’s found me.

Like I didn’t want him to.

Like I hoped he would.

He’s across the soccer field, jogging over.

I search desperately for a stone, digging into the soil like it will unearth my peace. When it doesn’t,

I sit on my haunches and stare at my empty, dirty hands.

“Cooper,” Jace says again, standing before me wearing a worried frown.

“I can’t find one,” I say. He drops to his knees in front of me, shuffles forward and pulls my hands

so I’m kneeling too. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me tightly.

“Are you okay?” he asks against my hair.

“Yeah, no, I mean, whatever, right? Just rumors.”

He shakes his head.

“Fine,” I say and draw away from him to search the ground. “It’s true.”

Jace breathes out heavily and helps me look. After a few minutes, he shakes his head. “Stuff it,” he

says and stands up, pulling me with him.

“What?” I say.

He balls up his fist and presses it into my open palm. “I’ll be your rock. Do you think you can

handle that today?”

I squeeze his warm fist. His pulse—or is that mine?—beats under my finger.

I’ll never look at his hand the same. It will always remind me of this day, this humiliation, this

anger, and this exhilarating wave I’m riding that’s drawing me closer to something I’ve only dreamed

about.

I need to be honest. I look up at him and swallow. “I’m sorry, Jace.”

“Why? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

I shake my head. “I’m sorry because you weren’t meant to be the last person to know, to be told by

a bunch of losers. You were meant to hear it from me. I wanted to tell you last night at the river.”

He sucks in his lips and nods before looking through the chain-link fence to the busy street. “You

want to go home?”

“Cut school?”

“So what?”

“Okay. But I’m supposed to be at Mum’s the rest of the week.”

“I know,” he says as we head across the field. “Let’s go there then.”

limestone

“So this is what your room looks like,” Jace says, taking in the single bed, the desk littered with

books, and the thirty toolboxes stacked against the back wall. I use the toolboxes to compartmentalize

my rocks and keep everything in order. Each is labeled according to the month and year it represents,

running all the way back to when I was two and picked up my first limestone.

Jace stands in the middle of the room, and I wonder if he’s imagining me studying or playing

computer games at my desk, trying and failing miserably to do push-ups on the round red rug, coming

in wet from the shower with only a towel wrapped around my waist, jerking off to the thought of him

under the bedspread—

You wish!

I turn on music to fill the silence but I keep it low so we can talk.

The springs in my mattress squeak as Jace sits on my bed. His reflection stares back at me from the

photo I have of Mum, Dad, Annie and me that’s on my desk.

“I have a confession,” Jace says and I startle, standing up from my chair. It swivels in a full circle

behind me before bumping against the desk.

“Confession?”

Jace bites his bottom lip and pushes off from the bed. He walks around the room, touching the

dresser and studying the stones I have on display. He looks at me through the large square mirror above

the dresser. “I wasn’t asleep when you left my tent that night.”

I pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says, turning around and leaning against the drawers, “I shut my eyes when you

dragged your sleeping bag out. After a few minutes, I snuck out and . . . well, I overheard you and

Annie.”

“You were spying on me?”

He folds his arms and looks ashamed. “I was curious what you were up to.”

“Curious?” I have no thoughts of my own, and I scramble to accept what he’s telling me.

“I wondered what you were doing. I thought I might scare you for a laugh. Pounce on you or

something.”

“Pounce?”

Jace winces and chuckles. “Trust you to focus on that poor choice of word.”

I don’t know what I’m saying but I start speaking. “So there wouldn’t have been any pouncing?”

Pushing off my dresser, Jace struts toward me. He shrugs as if he’s answering his own question. “If

you want there to be pouncing, there can be, okay? Plenty of it. In fact, let’s start now.”

Jace touches my chest and pushes me onto the bed. I barely process what’s happening when he

leaps on me, pinning me to the mattress. His greenstone slips out from the collar of his shirt and hangs

at my throat. “So you’re gay,” he says, and this time I’m aware of what he’s saying. I detect an

undercurrent of anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Because it’s you. You’re the one I’m attracted to. You’re the one that makes my heart go berserk.

When I don’t answer, he rolls off me. I instantly miss his weight. Miss his focused stare boring into

me for answers.

“As you can see, I’m okay with it. Did you think I wouldn’t be?”

“No,” I say, and it comes out croaked. What I really need to know is if I’m projecting feelings that

aren’t like that.

But of course they’re not. I’ve seen his porn stash after all. He’s told me he’s interested in Susan. I

can’t even believe the warm lie that he’s faking all that because he’s afraid to come out—because why

would he be? He’s okay with me being gay, and he knows his parents are okay with it too. Nothing’s

holding him back. Because he doesn’t harbor any secret feelings toward you.

I still want to ask. I want to know.

Don’t destroy the illusion that he cares for you above and beyond a friend. You like imagining that

one day he’ll realize he wants you and ravage you like the hero in a corny romance—

“You can tell me anything. Just want you to know that.”

We exchange looks. “I have nothing else to tell. That’s it. My big secret, exposed. If you want to

put some distance between us, I’ll understand.”

Jace sits up. “What the hell?”

“I just mean—”

“I know what you mean. You think I’m worried you’re going to jump me?” He laughs. “You’ve had

plenty of opportunity already. Why would things change now? Besides, the whole stepbrother thing.”

I laugh. “Yeah. Stepbrothers.” And because I can’t help it, I add, “Not technically, though. Even if

we were stepbrothers, it’s not like we’re related.”

Jace’s gaze flashes to mine, and his breath hitches. “I guess. Not really related. Not by blood.” For

a second, I think he’s going to lean in and say something else, but he frowns and makes an abrupt

change of topic. “I asked Susan to the dance. She said as long as I don’t barf all over her, she’d love to

go with me.”

“Romantic.” This comes out stonily.

Jace laughs. “You going this year, brother?”

Brother? What the hell is that? “I’m gay. Who would I go with?”

He shrugs. “You should go anyway. Stand up for who you are, show them you don’t care what

anyone thinks.”

“Would you do that?” I ask. “If you were in my shoes?”

He’s quiet for a long time. “Okay, maybe it’s a stupid idea. I just . . . But you’re right. It’s harder

when it’s yourself.”

The front door shuts, and we scramble out of bed. “Mum’s home.”

“Should we hide?” Jace whispers. “Duck out the window?”

I smirk and open the door to the hall. “Mum?”

She appears a few seconds later, a bit flushed. Paul’s lingering at her bedroom door, pulling

nervously at his orange tie that matches his hair. He waves, accidentally flicking his tie into his face. He

flattens it and silently laughs at himself.

“What are you doing home so early?”

“Kind of got outed at school. Needed to recuperate.”

“Oh, dear. Should I make some tea?”

“Nah, I’m fine.” For the most part. I glance from her to Paul. “Jace and I are going to get an ice

cream and sit in the park.”

“Are you sure—?”

“Yep.” Her mouth twitches into a smile. She brushes past me and stands in front of him.

“This is Jace,” I tell her, and before she starts wondering exactly why he’s in my room, I add, “He

drove me home.”

“My God, you look just like Lila,” she says.

“He’s taller,” I say as Jace says, “I’m taller.”

We grin.

“You have her hair, eyes, nose, mouth, everything except how broad you are. That looks like . . .”

She cocks her head and hums. “Well,” she continues eventually. “You’re one handsome guy.”

“Mum!”

“Not as gorgeous as you, dear,” she says. I groan.

“Just stop,” I say. “Go back to the hunk in the hall.”

It’s her turn to redden. Now we’re even.

When she’s gone, Jace laughs. “Your Mum’s all right,” he says, and beckons me out of my room.

“Now, I believe you said something about ice cream?”