Page 9 of More Than Pen Pals

I sigh. “Leave me alone, Randy.” The nickname slips out. He’s never let anyone but me call him that, and I now only use it when I’m upset and can’t stop myself.

He sits back in his chair. “Nope. Not gonna happen.”

We stare at each other for a good twenty seconds before my brother says, “I’m not leaving until you tell me about it.”

“About what?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Fine,” I say. “That woman was my pen pal.”

His expression doesn’t change. “I figured as much. And how do you feel about that?”

I roll my eyes. “How do you think I feel?”

“I have an idea, but I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m pissed, all right?” I practically shout. “She deceived me for four years. I told …” I shake my head.

“You told her what?” he prompts when I don’t finish my thought.

“I told her things I never told anyone else. Some of what I wrote I never would’ve said if I knew she was a girl.” I briefly close my eyes. “Especially if I knew she wasthatgirl.”

His eyebrows raise. “What girl?”

Why did I let that slip out? No doubt my brother will keep trying to pry it out of me, so I tell him. “Les has a twin brother—Shannon. He …shesent several pictures of them throughout the years. I thought she,” I wave my hand in the general direction of Carter-Jenkins PR, “was the boy and Shannon was the girl. Apparently, I had it backward, and she never told me.”

“And considering she’s drop-dead gorgeous, I’m guessing at fourteen she wasn’t ugly. You had a crush on her, didn’t you?” Randall wiggles his eyebrows at me.

“See?” I point at him. “That right there—that’s why I could never tell you things. That’s why I told Les … Leslie instead.”

“What couldn’t you tell me about?”

I sigh. How have I gotten into this conversation? “About girls—about my feelings.” I take a deep breath and force myself to look him in the eye. “You always made fun of me.”

Randall’s jaw drops. “Are you serious? I was joking around.”

“That’s not how it felt back then.” I decide if I’m being open for once, I should go for broke. “Or now.”

He slumps in his chair. “I’m sorry, man. Why have you never told me? I would’ve stopped.”

I shrug. “I don’t know.” I’m not avoiding an answer. I truly don’t know.

“So what are you going to do now?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re going to forget this ever happened?”

“Yes.” I stab the desk with my finger as I say it.

“You’re not going to talk to her?”

“No.”

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