Page 6 of Strange Lad

“Four of them.”

His eyes widen. “That’d be an unfair advantage. The odds of you getting one go up, and then—”

“It’s either that or we veto the rats.” I hold firm this time.

He thinks about it, really not wanting to give up his favorite deck to play with. “Fine.”

I beam at him, fluttering my eyelashes, and Oli…blushes.

Like, that is a fucking blush. His cheeks are bright pink!

“Are you blushing?”

“No,” he says quickly and clears his throat.

“You totally are.”

“It’s hot in here,” he argues, getting up and opening the single window. “Better already.”

What a filthy little liar.

“If you say so,” I purr and waggle my eyebrows at him.

“Shut up. What movie do you want to watch?”

I tap my chin as if I’m debating it, but we both say at the same time, “Twin Towers.”

God, it feels so fucking good to be back.

Back with my friend.

Back with my Oli.

Oli

Dark Thoughts

Deep down, I know this whole thing is a mistake.

I never should have answered his text all those months ago.

I never should’ve let himseeme.

The real me.

The guy I’d forgotten even existed under the rubble that’d buried me. And I never should’ve let it get to the point it is now—hanging on his every word, counting down the days, hours, and minutes until I can see him again.

But I guess this is just how I am.

Once an addict, always an addict. And Jorge was my first addiction.

In ways, it feels like I’m taking advantage of him. He has no idea I’ve been in love with him since before I knew what it meant. That I have pined for him for so long, I’ve completely given up hope that he’ll ever see me that way. We’re friends—great friends. And that friendship means more to me now than these secret romantic feelings I’ve guarded close to my heart for over half my life.

It feels like a backhanded slap from the universe that it took completely cutting off my brother for Jorge to finally see me. Of course, not in the way I do, and even if he did by some miracle, I’m not the person you feel those things for.

Not anymore.

Making sure to keep the entire middle cushion empty, I sink further into my couch, resting my socked feet on the coffee table. Jorge adopts a similar position, stuffing his face with Funyuns. They’re his favorite. They are terrible for my boys, but he gave them each a piece of chip so their happy crunches can be heard behind us.

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