Page 12 of Let’s Be Real

Staying with Nate reminded me of my childhood—and not in a good way.

He was perfectly nice. Welcoming, really. But the Wells brothers had always been that way. They’d never asked when I was going home, or why I was over at their house for the thousandth day in a row.

Nate’s condo was nice. Slightly larger than Adrian’s, with three bedrooms and an open-concept living area, and professionally designed for comfort and serenity. The walls were a pale gray, and the art was muted. His kitchen was a creamy white with a large, marble-topped island he only used for making smoothies in the morning and a quick, easy bite at night.

He was most often in the living area or his bedroom—which I hadn’t set foot in, contrary to my awkward request a couple nights ago. The sectional was large and cushy, easy to sink into or curl up and fall asleep on if I were a little more comfortable.

It wasn’t Nate’s fault I couldn’t fully relax. He wasn’t looking at me sideways for using his kitchen or leaving my shoes by his door. But I couldn’t help feeling like I was seconds from overstaying my welcome.

I had been born with baggage, and I carried it everywhere.

That feeling only went away at Adrian’s condo two floors down and my townhouse a few blocks over.

But Adrian was still recovering, so I continued pushing my discomfort aside to be with him, taking duty while Nate was at work during the day then switching when I left for the club at night. Neither of us trusted his brother to be on his own. Adrian was trouble like that.

That his recovery had been hellish didn’t help. I would have thought it served him right for ignoring his appendix until it burst, but I couldn’t possibly revel in his level of pain. He still had a drain in his abdomen, and a nurse visited every day to administer fluids and antibiotics. Standing up straight was a struggle, and he only stayed awake for short spans before tuckering back out.

He couldn’t bear doing nothing, though, and had finally convinced me to help him out to the living room so we could take a meeting with our realtor, Linda.

Half-propped on a mountain of pillows, he followed Linda on the screen of my computer as she walked through a building he was interested in, showing us every nook and cranny. Adrian was frowning when we ended the call, but he did that half the time anyway.

“What did you think?”

He lifted a shoulder and grunted. “I’m more interested in zoning restrictions. We can make what we want from almost any building.”

“Are you sure now is the right time to open a second club?”

His eyes narrowed. “Why? Do you think I’m going to be down and out forever?”

I snorted. “No. I know very well you won’t allow yourself to be in this condition for any longer than necessary. I’m more concerned with the state of the world. We’re flying under the radar now. If we open a club in California, we’ll have more eyes on us, and the last thing we want is the general public putting their two cents in.”

It was astounding to me society had become more prudish as time went on. I would have thought the opposite to be true—consenting adults engaging in sex in a private place being nothing to blink at.

These days, people got their panties in a wad over everything. Adrian and I had been lucky. Mile High Club had gone unbothered since we’d opened a few years ago, but our days being numbered stayed in the back of my mind. It was only a matter of time before we’d be called on to defend our right to exist.

“The general public.” His lip curled. “Everyone fucks. Why do people care who anyone is fucking and how they’re doing it? I’ll never understand.”

“I’m glad neither of us will ever understand.” I’d hate for my mind to ever be that small. What a terrible life.

“Speaking of small minds”—he paused for effect—“I’m surprised Douche isn’t hovering over you. Surely he disapproves of you sleeping under the same roof as two boys.”

I rolled my eyes. Yes, Will would have had a problem with me staying at Nate’s, no doubt about it. But Adrian knowing that as well as I did annoyed me.

“Will isn’t hovering because we broke up.”

His eyes narrowed. “Since when? That night at my place is mostly a blur, but him dragging you out of my room by your hair is clear as day.”

I barked a laugh. “That’s your fantasy, not mine.”

He nudged my thigh with his foot. “The day I fantasize about you and Douche is the day I dig my own grave and lie down in it.”

“You can put down the shovel.” I sighed, letting my head fall back on the couch cushion. “We’re really through.”

Adrian pumped his fist. “Yes!” Then he immediately cleared his throat, wiping the victorious smile off his face. “I mean, that’s too bad. I’ll miss that guy very much.”

“Shut up. If you didn’t already look so pathetic, I would slug you.”

He smirked. “Save it for when I’m better. I can take it. It’s not like your tiny little fists will do any damage.”