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He could tell something was different, but couldn’t put a name to it. And despite his eyes shuttering as soon as it presented itself, I could see a twinge of hurt move through them.
Mitch never was good with feelings, always the most aggressively angry one out of us four boys. It’s why I was always closer to Max. Mitch always made me nervous. I do love him, appreciate how fierce he is when I need support, but hate that I can’t tell him things that might rock the boat.
Like the fact that our brother is married to a man now, and technically, I am as well.
Fuck, this must have been how Magnus felt his whole goddamn life.
I deserve hell for the shit I put him through. I really do. I don’t think my past apology is going to cut it.
With a tap of my thumbs, I respond to Mitch’s message, telling him I won’t be trying out for soccer this spring. A twinge of guilt moves through me as I type my excuse out, and I rub a hand along my chest. He’s going to wonder why I’m bailing but probably won’t ever ask why.
He’ll let it stew until it finally bubbles over.
Well, less like a bubble and more like an explosive volcano.
So of course, he doesn’t reply to my message, leaving me on read. His silence tells me he’s upset with my response.
It’s his stubbornness that gets him stuck like this.
It’s what makes him hard to get along with.
But I don’t want to be on a team sport with Mitch, knowing that Coop is a shit-stirrer and will most likely show up to my games looking very eccentric just to rile me up. I don’t want to have to defend him against Mitch.
And fun fact. I wouldn’t win. Mitch is built like a linebacker, and I’m not.
“Brixton, you mothertrucker! Absolutely not. Stop it this instant! How will you ever get a girlfriend behaving that way?” I stop for a second and then add, “Or a boyfriend. Doesn’t matter. Just stop with the nose picking!”
Brixton turns bright red from the boyfriend comment, and I feel a little bad for insinuating he’s gay. That wasn’t the point. The point was I wanted to be inclusive. Probably not the best time to do it though. Fuck, I better not get a call from his parents.
I’m so not in the mood.
But honestly, what kid his age is still wiping boogers all over the place? This is not an elementary school. He’s going to be an adult soon, which is a scary thought. Fuck, he’s going to be able to vote.
I don’t want to even know what’s going on in that head of his.
I bet his ballot is submitted with boogers on it.
Doesn’t matter. I have more to worry about than Brixton and his poor life choices.
When work is finally over and I make it back to my apartment later that afternoon, I’m desperately ready for a boogerless weekend.
But when I stride up from the parking lot, I see a large moving truck sitting outside, near the curb, Coop casually leaning against it, texting.
“Oh hell,” I grumble even though something akin to excitement pulses through me. I can admit it. It’ll be nice to not struggle, even if it’s just for a few months. To live somewhere nice that doesn’t smell like mold and crumbling cement. To have someone to take care of me, even if he doesn’t mean it.
“Hey, handsome,” Coop says with a grin when he sees me approach. He’s wearing loafers, some kind of flowy pants, and a white button-up shirt. He looks like he spent the day on a yacht, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.
“I’m not moving in with you. You’re delusional,” I say even though I walk up the steps to my place and let the movers in.
“Oh yes, resist, Matthew. Resist all you want. I can respect that while still getting what I want.”
I snort and tell the movers that I have water bottles and beer cans in the fridge, realizing as I say it that this is Coop’s first time in my apartment. His eyes swivel around the space and his brows bunch. I know what he’s looking at. The ratty sofas, the unhinged cabinet doors. The entire place is falling apart.
“Not a word, rich boy,” I murmur, and he peers over at me with those pretty eyes.
“Oh, Matthew. I’m going to spoil you rotten,” he tells me. “You’re never gonna want to leave me.”
“No, I have an exit plan,” I lie as I grab a suitcase from my closet and start piling my clothes inside of it. Coop helps, mostly. When he gets to my underwear drawer, he puts a pair of my boxers up to his nose and sniffs.
