Page 33 of Maybe
No shit.From the glassiness in his eyes, he didn’t normally drink more than a couple of pints either. I took his arm. “Comeon, let’s stand by the fire door—you get the best view from there, and it’s a bit quieter.”
Pretty Vacant were pretty loud. Neil and I worked well together, but bloody hell, the collab wasn’t without its challenges. Neil did to my subtle, delicate lyrics what a pair of woolly tights did to finger fucking. By the time he finished with them, my sweet melodies were barely recognisable. In my humble opinion, a little less volume and a little more attention to detail would elevate the band to bigger venues. Neil had great stage presence and was hot as fuck. But my creative input stopped at writing stuff and getting badly paid for it, and at any rate, who cared? They made a few hundred quid each gig from their loyal fan base of pissed young blokes. Several hundred of them threw themselves around in front of the stage now, waving their hands in the air like antennas to heaven.
Fuck knows what Isaac made of it. Especially as Neil’s provocative moves were more often than not directed at me. With every ending of one song and the start of another, Isaac looked up at me with a raised eyebrow, mouthingis this one of yours? And every time I nodded, he got this ridiculous smile on his face, like he was going to enjoy it because I’d written it. It felt like having my dad (if my dad had been that sort) coming to one of my school gigs and cheering me on from the front row. Especially when Isaac tapped his foot and did this nerdy jigging thing.
Every time I leaned in to speak to him, our shoulders nudged. At some point, it became easier just to leave them there, touching, side by side. Though I’d finished my second pint and Isaac his third, I was reluctant to move away and buy another. I already knew what one of his sturdy hugs felt like. What would having another and then kissing him feel like?
You’ll never know, I told myself sternly. It was a terrible idea. It would fuck everything up.
You belong to me?Fucking absurd.
Halfway through the set, Neil and the guys paused for another round of smokes. Isaac tagged along behind me to the bar, swaying. My overdraft bought us a fresh couple of pints.
“You still okay?” I asked him, unable to help myself. Every now and again, this ridiculous older brother thing kicked in. Yet this time, it was doing battle in my head with that ridiculous erotic dream I had about him, where I came across Isaac unexpectedly on a night out. In my dream, he was alone, on the way back from a late shift maybe. What started out as me walking him back to the posh mansion flat somehow skipped a few scenes and ended up with me fucking him senseless against a kitchen cupboard. I’ve wanked to amateur porn with more complex storylines.
Until tonight, I’d shaken the dream off as a brain fart. I’d shake it off now if only dream Isaac hadn’t looked at me pretty much like real Isaac’s looking at me now; like he’s about to beg me to lick the beer froth from his upper lip. Christ, I needed to pull myself together.
“Yeah, thanks for inviting me; it’s taking my mind off everything.”
“Difficult to worry about anything apart from burst ear drums when Neil’s belting out ‘I’ve got toes but I’m not a toaster’.” Admittedly, not my finest lyrical moment. “I was taking the piss out of a Killers song—me and Neil thought it was funny at the time.”
Probably because we’d been high as kites.
Isaac took a gulp of his fresh pint. “Trust me. It beats lying on the sofa, quietly stressing out.”
“You’re not going to do that anymore.” I threw him my sternest scowl. “You’re going to phone me and talk it through.”
“Who’s looking after Jonty tonight?”
“Carly’s mum.”
My favourite blush crept up his neck. “I can’t believe you, you know… with her as well.”
“Nor can I, to be honest, when I look back at it.” That wasn’t one of my finest moments either.
He grinned. “Family get-togethers must be a hoot.”
“Yep, but still better than any we ever had as kids.”If you think I’m taking you out in public with that haircut, Ezra, you can stay behind.
Demonstrating, yet again, that I was excellent at killing a conversation.
Wisely, Isaac changed the subject. “The lead singer’s very friendly with you.” He indicated towards Neil, deep in conversation with a bunch of musos. I smiled; I wondered if he’d notice. “He’s good looking. Is he gay?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “But been there and done that. We’re good mates now—we have been for a long time.” I give a brief laugh. “Actually, Neil thought we were, you know…you and me…”
“As if,” Isaac huffed. “I’d… I mean… that would be just… wrong.”
His skin tone said the opposite. A beat passed. “Would it?” I queried softly.
“Yeah, Ez. Idiot. You’re my brother.”
“No by blood, though,” I pushed. “So theoretically, we could…”
The heat from the crimson flush climbing Isaac’s cheeks could power a small generator. I wanted to curl my palm around it.
Interesting.
Neil was bang on the money about my brother being very pretty. A lock of Isaac’s hair had fallen forward from his neat part. My fingers itched to tuck it back for him. For the last couple of hours he’d scarcely dragged his big blue eyes away from me;the dribble of beer froth at the left corner of his mouth was literally calling my name. And then there was that foreplay joke he made this morning. Very un-Isaac. Mortified, he’d practically sprinted to the shower to get away from me.
