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Adrian just blinked at me, and I could see a thousand thoughts flash across his face. I’d pictured him laughing or even making some kind of a sarcastic comment like I would have, but his response was nothing like I’d expected.
“I don’t think I’ve changed, but I think that would mean that I knew what I liked to begin with.” The sentence was slightly convoluted but if I followed it right… No. I didn’t want to try to guess what he meant. It would only confuse everything even more.
Before I could figure out a way to break the awkward silence, the waitress paused by the table. “You boys decide what you want?” she asked. It was probably the third time she’d come by, but she was still as casual and friendly as she’d been the first two times.
“Oh. Um, yeah,” I said, fumbling as I tried to remember how to use my words. “I’m gonna have the prime rib gouda skillet thing. He’ll have the steak, cooked medium.” “Sure thing,” she said, dipping her head in a nod.
It wasn’t until she was walking off that I realized I’d just ordered for my older brother.
“Um. Sorry?” I ventured.
Adrian lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “I don’t mind when you take charge of me.”
He honestly didn’t seem to realize how it came out. When I started coughing, he looked at me like he was starting to worry about my health — or maybe just my mental health, which seemed to be hanging by a thread lately.
“Are you okay?” His confused expression turned concerned when it took me a minute to catch my breath.
It took me a few more seconds to gather myself, but I nodded quickly. “Oh, yeah, completely fine,” I lied. “Just a little cough.” As though to prove my point, I picked up my glass of water and took a sip. “Fine now. How’s the project going?” I asked, and again, I realized too late that I was turning the conversation into zones with “danger” and “do not enter” — for fuck’s sake, Owen, stop that line of thought right the fuck now — signs all over the place.
His brows came together, and he looked down at the table. His shoulders hunched down, and his concern faded into something that looked like shame. “Um, some of it’s going fine. I talked to… I interviewed someone about the lifestyle so that will be good for the paper, but the actual practical part isn’t going as well.”
He’d actually talked to someone? I gaped at him for a moment, surprised.
“How’d that go?” I finally managed to get out. “Actually talking to someone in the know? I mean, maybe they could help you with the practical part…” I trailed off, surprised by the fierce stab of jealousy the idea evoked.
No, it wasn’t jealousy. I was just feeling protective of my big brother.
His head popped up, and his frown deepened. “No, just on the outskirts. It was interesting. Um, did you want… I mean, did you want me to find someone else to help me? I guess I know how to find more people in the lifestyle now, but you said…” His voice trailed off. He blushed before looking back down at the table, suddenly fascinated by the way his silverware was wrapped.
“No!” I said, a little too hastily. “No,” I repeated, taking my time in repeating the word. “It’s okay. If you still want my help, I’ll help.” I’d enjoy the fuck out of helping, too, just like last time — with that perfect peace descending over us, and feeling closer to my brother than I had in far too long. The rest… The rest, I could deal with later.
Much later.
Like never.
“What… part are you struggling with?” I asked.
His body sagged into the seat, relief clear on his face when I told him I wasn’t trying to get out of helping. But evidently asking for help was easier than admitting what he needed me to actually do because he turned the color of an overripe tomato and his mouth clamped shut again.
Not sure how to respond, I just looked at him. I wasn’t going to start listing shit off to try to guess. That would get weird quick — if we weren’t there already. Finally, Adrian looked down at the table and started picking at his napkin.
“I…” He took a deep breath and started again. “I haven't managed to do anything else on my own.”
Another deep breath had my stomach turning in knots. What was he going to say?
“I want to try— I mean, I need to see how it all feels.” He was quiet for another moment then peeked up at me before his eyes went back to his napkin, which was lying on the table shredded to pieces. “I’ve never had anything… and I don’t know how to…”
Adrian was clearly floundering, but I just sat there, stunned.
Finally, something stupid just popped out. “You mean the tail?”
I shouldn’t have asked, because the thought of him naked in front of me with the tail plugging his ass — of seeing it wag when I called him a good boy — had me shifting uncomfortably in my seat.
I didn’t know why it was so appealing. This was my fucking brother. But I suddenly, desperately, hoped that was what he meant.
Adrian started pushing around the little pieces of trash scattering the table. He was quiet for so long I started to think that he wasn’t planning to answer at all. Right as I started to open my mouth, he glanced up at me again and nodded.
He looked vulnerable and scared, like he was so afraid of what I’d say that he could hardly think.
