Page 27 of Fine, Dork

In the Wood house, love wasn’t unconditional. It was earned when you brought home 1st place.

The catered dinner continued with talk of wedding plans, and I zoned out like I’d been doing for the last seven or eight years. When I was a kid, I tried to play the game and fight for attention. It wasn’t until I was a senior in high school that I started to give up. Due to scheduling issues, I wasn’t going to finish my Associates degree by the time I graduated high school like Tyson did. I got a lower score on the SAT’s than Tyson. I couldn’t compete, and so I worked on disappearing from my parents’ radar instead. Most of the time that worked for me.

After dinner, we moved to the formal living room for drinks. So far, aside from my mother’s comments about my hair and Savannah, I’d managed to avoid any of the spotlight. I sank onto the stiff, pure white sofa and glanced at my watch. I’d wait ten minutes and then make up an excuse to leave.

When I only had five minutes of torture left on my watch, Tyson sat beside me. My body instinctively tensed when he opened his mouth. Nine times out of ten, Tyson had a petty insult to throw at me. “I was disappointed to hear that things didn’t work out with Savannah. She was a good one. Probably too good for you, though, wasn’t she?” Tyson flashed me his superior asshole smirk and smoothed his thinning hair.

I watched him with the slightest bit of juvenile satisfaction. Tyson was far and away our parents’ favorite child. He was smarter and more dedicated to achieving. He made more money than I did, and now he was getting married to a brilliant psychologist, to top it all off. Maybe he’d always be ten steps ahead of me in every aspect of life for as long as we both lived, but at least the asshole was going bald.

I chose to ignore my brother’s comment about Savannah. “I’m happy for you and Chandler.”

“Thank you.” Tyson looked down at his hands then back at me. “You know, I didn’t come over here to make you feel bad about your ex-girlfriend. I actually came to ask if you’d be my Best Man.”

I raised both eyebrows. This had to be some kind of joke. I couldn’t remember ever having a pleasant conversation with my brother. “Seriously?”

“Don’t act so surprised.”

“No, I think I will act surprised, dude. We’re not even friends.” I took a sip of the scotch in my hand. “Why don’t you ask one of your med school pals?”

Tyson scoffed. “Why are you such a dick?”

I leaned forward, gripping the cold, smooth glass. “I’m sorry, what? I’m the dick?”

“Yeah, you always have been!”

I laughed out loud and leaned back on the couch. “You’re serious right now, aren’t you?”

Tyson narrowed his clear blue eyes at me. “Yes, Jaxon. You’ve always thought you were so damn cool and too good for this family. You’re the dick who never came to any of my award ceremonies because you were too busy with all your stupid little friends. You’re the selfish asshole that threw away your future on a useless degree and basically told mom and dad to go fuck themselves.”

“Wow.” I slammed my glass down without a coaster on the cherrywood coffee table. My heart pounded in my throat. I would punch my asshole brother in the face if I didn’t get the fuck out of there. “Cool, so I’m going to head out. I’ll get back to you on the Best Man thing, bro.”

I stood and stalked out the front door, ignoring my mom when she called after me.

I wanted to call Kinley and recount the entire evening to her immediately. I wanted to tell her everything and hear her say, “What an asshat. Your brother sucks balls.” Then I wanted to listen to her laugh and offer to beat him up. I fucking wanted to talk to her because that’s what you did when you loved someone. Kinley was the first person I wanted to tell when something happened in my life, whether it was shitty or funny or awesome. She was my person, and she’d always been it.

I walked to my car and imagined how my parents would react if I showed up with Kinley wearing my ring on her finger. I knew for a fact that the good china would stay in the cabinet because my parents were small, judgmental people.

That part made me feel like shit, but picturing Kinley as my fiancé forced a little smile onto my face.

15

Kinley

I got off the plane and felt the humidity hit me like a solid brick wall. “Whew!” I yelled and laughed. “You gotta swim through this air, don’t you?”

My guide, Pedro, smiled politely at me and picked up my bags.

“Oh, no. I’ll get those. Yo soy muy fuerte.” Fuerte was the Spanish word for strong, right?

Pedro laughed and shook his head. “I insist, miss Kinley.”

I smiled at him. “Did you laugh because my Spanish is terrible?”

“Sí.” Pedro gave me a toothy grin. “But I am glad you try.”

“I’ll keep trying. I swear.”

Pedro loaded my bag onto a little moto-taxi that reminded me of the ones I rode in Thailand last spring. It was like a small carriage attached to the back of a motorcycle. I climbed onto the bench, and Pedro slid in next to me. I pulled out my camera as we took off down the bumpy streets of Iquitos, Peru.

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