Page 89 of The Other Brother
“So, it’s my birthday next week,” he says when he finishes, setting his guitar aside.
“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry. I’m saving for your present.” I prop my guitar on the floor so it’s leaning up against the bed.
Cody rolls his eyes. “Actually, I was thinking about my birthday party. Dad likes to make big deals about our eighteenths.”
That’s right. I can vaguely remember the fight Frank and Mum had when Kate turned eighteen. Mum thought it was ridiculous to spend so much money on a party. I think she refused to pay half and Kate got upset. All I can remember from her party is everyone’s tense faces and being told off for double dipping in the chocolate fountain.
“So, do you want to come?” Cody asks.
“It’s probably best if I don’t,” I say.
Cody frowns. He puffs out such a long sigh that it causes a temporary disruption of the curls on his forehead. “It’s so screwed up. I want you there.”
“I want to be there,” I say honestly.
“So, come.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, who cares what anyone thinks. Mum and Dad will have to cope with the fact that we’re friends.”
“Is that what we are? Because I’m pretty sure I don’t do with all of my friends the things I do with you,” I say as I shuffle closer to him. I’m meaning it as a joke, but I can see from his face that my words fall flatter than roadkill.
“I really hope you don’t do what we do with any of your friends,” he says slowly. “It’s just us, right? I mean, you’re not with anyone else?”
“Are you kidding me?” I draw back from him. “You seriously need to ask me that question?”
“Sometimes it’s tough to work out where I stand.” He bites his lip.
I swallow. Hard.
“You’re standing front and center at the moment,” I say cautiously.
Cody gives me that intense stare of his. The type that feels like an interrogation. And I really don’t want to start babbling out truths now. So I go for my preferred method of distraction, which involves my lips on his lips.
And it totally works.
* * *
Cody is right.It’s screwed up. It’s screwed up to be at my boyfriend’s birthday party and not to spend any time with him. It’s screwed up that I have to avoid talking to him too much, touching him, doing anything that will make people suspect we’re more than friends.
Frank and Heather have reserved the private room in The Topiary for his birthday. It’s this restaurant with a large garden featuring a number of plants shaped into exotic animals placed throughout. Of course because it’s night, no one is out in the garden enjoying the weird-shaped shrubs. Instead, there’s about a hundred people jammed into a room that still smells vaguely plant-like.
I stuff a handful of savory cheese pastry sticks into my mouth as I watch Cody on the other side of the room. The pastry flakes in my mouth like a desiccation agent.
He’s dressed in a navy blue shirt that perfectly matches the edge of his eyes. I know this, because I know all the shades of Cody’s eyes now. That’s the kind of thing you learn when you spend so much time staring at something.
“Ryan! I thought you might be here.” Grace grabs my arm and pulls me into a half-hug.
“Oh, hey.” I smile at her, sending an eyebrow raise in Marco’s direction. “Hey, man, how’s it going?”
“Good,” Marco looks around. “This is a fancy party. For my eighteenth, I just had a few people over to play pool in the basement.”
“Yeah, Cody’s parents don’t do things by halves.”
Including grudges against ex-wives. Not that my mother isn’t equally responsible in the whole thing.
I grab some puffy pastry thing from another tray sliding by.
