Page 5 of Our Moon
Trevor closes the lid on the grill so it can warm up and walks over to sit on one of the chaise lounges lined up alongside the pool. I paddle around in my tube so I can give him my full attention. He doesn’t talk much, so when he does, I listen.
“Back when we fooled around in the garage,” he begins, “we didn’t have a name. We were just messing around. We didn’t expect anything to come of it. Then one of dad’s friends was over for dinner and heard us jamming out. He owned a restaurant out by the airport and featured live acts once a week. He liked what he heard and offered us a spot.”
“But we didn’t have a name,” Alex inserts.
Trevor nods in agreement, “One of the first things he asked was what we called ourselves. We felt like total morons for not having a name for our band.” He chuckles at the memory.
“So how did I end up naming the band?” I wonder out loud. From what I understood from their stories, I hung around with them a lot, more so in the year before the accident. So I guess it isn’t too surprising that I had had a hand in naming their band, but I still want to hear the story.
“You should have heard some of the things those bozos were throwing out there,” Trevor laughs. “The Orgasm Donors, which was classic since you were both a couple of sixteen year old virgins.” I blush at the sexual reference, but laugh along with him, assuming he’s talking about Alex and Joey.
“What about your suggestion, huh?” Alex teases right back. “Four Dudes.” I laugh at that, too. Straight and to the point, very Trevor.
“An obvious choice,” Trevor defends, and I laugh some more.
“So anyway,” Alex starts, “we spent a couple hours going back and forth, pretty much making a game out of who could come up with the worst name, when you finally piped up and said JACT.”
“We liked it enough when we thought it was J-A-C-K-E-D, but when you spelled it out for us, we were completely sold.” Trevor has a proud smile on his face.
“And just like that, a band was born,” Alex says theatrically.
“I knew I thought it was clever for a reason,” I say simply and smugly.
The guys both laugh and shake their heads.
“Hey, there’s something I’ve been wondering,” I start. Since we are talking about the band and all of us hanging out together, this is the perfect opportunity to address something I’ve been curious about.
“What’s up?” Alex asks.
I look towards Trevor and ask, “Wasn’t it ever weird for you to be hanging out with your younger brother and sister all the time?”
“Nah,” Trevor says. “Don’t get me wrong, y’all were pains in my ass when you were little,” Trevor and I laugh, while Alex has a “who me?” expression of disbelief on his face. “But Mom and Dad always made sure the three of us spent time together. And honestly, I liked spending time with both of you as we got older. The age difference really didn’t mean much because you liked the same stuff I did.”
“Not many people can list their family as their best friends. We three were--are--lucky,” Alex adds.
“It does seem pretty cool we were close like that,” I smile at them both.
I recall some of the stories other residents of the facility shared during group, and many of them had very broken relationships with their families, or broken families in general. It makes me appreciate what I have. Even though I don’t remember my family’s dynamic, it must have been pretty special for my brothers to have stuck by me, especially without my parents to guide them and keep us all together.
After a little more small talk, Trevor goes back to the grill, and I continue floating, leaning my head back and closing my eyes to block out the sun’s harsh rays. My sunglasses are doing absolutely nothing to shade my eyes. August in Charlotte was proving to be brutal. I probably should put more sunscreen on my too white skin, but Trevor and Alex seem tan enough so hopefullymy skin will bronze like theirs rather than burn.
I zone out for a little while, making mental lists of things I should do. I will need to go clothes shopping as I have apparently lost some weight. The size eight clothes my brothers had brought to the facility for me hang off my frail frame. The great coma diet. I don’t have any money, at least I don’t think I do, but something tells me that isn’t going to be a problem.
Suddenly Alex shouts, jerking me out of my own head. “Yo, Baker!”
I follow Alex’s gaze and see an Adonis. Short blond hair–but still long enough that I want to run my hands through it, eyes as blue as the sky, a slight smirk, tall, tan and muscled body. Yummy. This is Chase. I’d recognize those eyes anywhere. I hope he can’t tell I’m staring at him, but as his smirk widens, I know he can.Shit.I’m sure he can also see the blush on my pale skin, but I try to convince myself that he thinks it’s just heat from the sun.
I lay my head back against the tube again and pretend to be indifferent. Alex continues to shoot hoops beside me. After a few moments, which seem like hours, I chance another look at Chase. He’s still in conversation with Trevor, but every few seconds his eyes sneak a peek at me. My face heats up again instantly.
I can’t believe I’m having this reaction to him. He’s the first guy I’m not related to that I’ve come into contact with since leaving the facility, and I’m ready to jump him. And he’s twenty feet away! I feel like a little school girl with a crush. I wonder if Blake ever made me tingle on the inside and blush on the outside.
I float over to Alex as gracefully as I can. “He keeps looking at me,” I whisper. I’m not sure why I share this information with my twin, but I do. I can only hope he can’t detect the heat in my cheeks, because that would be embarrassing! Or if he does, I hope he doesn’t figure out the reason.
“Al, the last time he saw you, you were unconscious. For a long time,” he states in an obvious tone. He might as well have added ‘duh’ to the end of that statement.
“So?” I weakly argue. “Surely he has seen a girl before.”
Alex laughs, “Yeah, I’m sure he has.” I don’t know why his comment bothers me, but it does. Just how many girls does Chase see? He is a rock star, after all. And why is it any of my business?
