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And they sat quietly some more, unable to be mad at each other but unable to behappyfor each other either. Unable to be much of anything, other than brothers.
“That’s the look. That’s the one.” Celeste’s voice cut across them. They lifted their eyes to her in unison, only to discover she was pointing them out to Ro, Laurel, and Parish. “See?”
“Holy shit, you’re right,” Laurel said.
“What’s she right about?” Val asked.
“I said that you guys don’t look anything alike, but she said you do when you do that eye thing, that, like…angry, frowny emo-kid eye thing. Suddenly you’re twins,” Ro said. “Remy just needs some eyeliner.”
“Please. Everyone knows I’m the hot one,” Val joked.
“Only when you’re standing beside me, which isn’t saying much,” Remy added.
“It’s true,” Celeste said. “That’s why we haven’t been having sex. Without Remy around it’s like…meh.” She grinned, and Val rose to swing his arms around her waist and kiss her, and it was sweet and tender and a reminder that, when they were apart, Val was still part of a duo. He wasn’t alone writing music—he was with Celeste. His partner, just like she’d said.
And Remy was writing music with his boss. Right?
