Page 71 of The Other Brother
We grab our boards and wade out until we can jump on and start paddling. The waves are small today, but it doesn’t matter. Although we’re at a different beach, it feels so familiar. There’s the same peacefulness that comes from being out in the water with Cody catching waves beside me.
Cody mucks around getting used to his new board. He offers me a turn, but I decide to stick with my own. Sometimes it’s best not to know what you’re missing out on.
“I needed that,” I say when we finally head to shore. I shake my hair, trying to get rid of the excess water. There’s a reason dogs use this strategy. It’s effective.
“Yeah, it was great,” Cody says.
“You want to grab some dinner?” he asks as we carry our surfboards up the path to the parking lot.
“Sure.”
We stash our surfboards on the roof rack and then open one of the back doors to shield us from the street while we change out of our wetsuits.
I’ve trained myself to avert my gaze when Cody is stripping off, so I do it automatically now. But as I’m tugging my T-shirt on over my head, it suddenly occurs to me that I don’t have to avoid looking at him anymore. I glance across the car.
Not surprisingly, he’s caught on faster than me, as his eyes are fixed somewhere around my abs.
“Enjoying the view?” I ask.
He raises his gaze guiltily to meet mine. “Definitely.”
We stare at each other for a few heated seconds.
I break eye contact, huffing out a laugh as I finish pulling my T-shirt on. Cody’s only in his towel, so I unashamedly lean back against the car, the metal warm even through my T-shirt, and watch as he finishes getting dressed.
The corner of his mouth quirks up as he pulls on boxers and shorts under his towel then grabs a hoody to throw over his T-shirt.
We walk side by side to one of the cafés that overlooks the beach and snag a table outside.
The advantage of my short hair is it’s almost dry already.
Cody’s hair is still damp, his curls coming back to life as it dries. One curl is drying at a weird angle, and without thinking, I reach over and brush it off his forehead.
Cody’s blue eyes widen.
Shit.
I bury my nose in my menu to avoid his gaze.
As I scan the menu, it occurs to me that to other diners we’re just two guys hanging out together. Some might work out we’re on a date. The homophobes of the world would have a problem with it, although I care more about what ants think than anyone who judges someone based on who they’re attracted to. But to everyone else, we’re simply two guys hanging out.
If only things could be that straightforward.
But then, why the hell can’t they be? We’re not related. We’re not even stepbrothers.
And okay, part of the reason we know each other so well is because we know each other’s families. However, it’s not like we’ve spent tons of time together growing up in a blended family utopia. And I know Cody’s experience of being Kate and Mel’s brother has been very different to mine.
In this messed up world, finding something like what Cody and I have is rare. Even I know that. After all, I’ve never been shy about hooking up with people, so I’ve got lots of other experiences to sift through. And I’ve never had anything that comes close to this.
“You’re looking serious over there,” Cody comments.
“I’m trying to decide between the hamburger and the nachos,” I say. “It’s a big decision.”
“A life changing one,” Cody deadpans back.
“Momentous,” I agree.
We catch each other’s eyes, and Cody gives a half-smile then looks away.
