Page 2 of Punching the V-Card
Was it too much to ask for Carl to at least seem excited? Or something? Jesus.
“So, I made a roast in the crock pot,” Hope said, motioning toward the counter. “And I was just putting all this stuff in the fridge for you guys to eat later. Also, there’s chips and salsa in the pantry, and you can always order pizza.” She beamed, a little wild and bright, like she was excited about what lay ahead for her brother and her best friend. More excited than Carl seemed, that was for sure. It was kind of weird.
“Um, thanks?” Devon watched as Hope ran a hand through her short, dark, unruly hair. He’d always heard that he and Hope could’ve been twins except for his facial hair, which he kept shaved, but a five-o’clock shadow always crept in. Otherwise, they both shared pale, smooth skin, chocolate-brown eyes, wide lips, and curly almost-black hair.
Devon knew he was fine-looking enough, but it was only when he took an objective gander at Hope that he could kind of see why so many girls (and a lot of guys) found him handsome. Inside, though, he felt like his body didn’t quite fit his soul yet, like he was a puppy still growing into his ungainly paws.
According to his last boyfriend, Jay—a hot ginger with an amazing laugh—because Devon did appear to be a full-grown man, he should step up and start acting like one, too. That expectation might have had something to do with why they’d broken up.
But what Jay had meant by“step up and act like a grown man,”Devon still didn’t know. What was more grown-up than going to college, doing his best work, trying to be a good person, and holding down a job, too? Was it really more adult to go clubbing and bar-hopping every night, having fun but being responsible to no one else? Devon didn’t think so. But he wasn’t going to start thinking about Jay right now.
Instead, he was going to try to understand the weirdness coming out of his sister’s mouth.
“So, you should be all set for food. Melanie will be here to pick me up any second. I’m going to stay at her place, but I can be back over here in a flash if there’s a problem.” This last was addressed to Carl who wasn’t looking at her either, paying more attention to the placement of his fingers on the neck of his guitar and the rainy window than to either Devon or Hope.
Hope’s phone buzzed and she picked it up from the counter. “Okay, that’s Mel. Here, help me get all these fruit and veggie plates in the fridge.”
“It’s not a goddamn house party,” Devon muttered as he helped her, passing the plates so she could arrange them inside. He flicked a glance toward Carl, who was making a pretty melody with the guitar but had as yet to even say hi.
“Are you sure he really wants to do this?” Devon whispered in Hope’s ear as she shut the refrigerator door.
“Of course!” She punched his shoulder and laughed. “Don’t be stupid.”
Devon didn’t see how that was a stupid question at all, but he just raked a sweaty hand through his hair as his stomach tightened. How were they even going to…
When Carl was so…
Ugh. Why had he ever agreed to this? He could still back out. There was no reason he couldn’t have a normal fall break full of TV marathons and hardcore sleeping. He’d just have to tell Hope and Carl to forget it.
Devon grunted under the weight of the heavy, army-green duffle bag Hope thrust into his arms as he followed her toward the front door. “That’s Carl’s stuff. Take it up to your room.”
Devon dropped the bag by the stairs in the front entryway. He’d do it later. If they did it at all. Because it was becoming more and more doubtful they would, as far as he was concerned, what with the way Carl was acting.
The guitar squawked as Carl’s fingers slid over the neck, and then Devon heard a ringingclunkas the guitar was put down. Then came the slap of Carl’s bare feet on the wood floor behind Devon as he too came to say goodbye to Hope. Opening the front door for his sister, Devon could see Melanie’s red Honda sitting in the driveway through the misty, gray rain.
After waving toward the car, Hope went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek as she grabbed her bulging overnight bag from beneath the coat rack by the door. “Be gentle,” she whispered.
Devon flushed.
Sputtered.
But stayed silent, because what the fuck was he supposed to say to that? His cheeks heated, and he cleared his throat. Like he’d ever be rough? But Hope just rolled her eyes at him before he could say anything. Then she grabbed Carl in a big, dramatic hug. They clung to each other, like Carl was facing some terrible task, one so dreadful that he required the fortification of bear hugs to endure it, which set off even more alarm bells in Devon’s brain. If that was how Carl felt, why did he want to do it? Devon didn’t understand.
As the hug dragged on, Devon couldn’t help but admire Carl’s blond hair contrasting with Hope’s dark curls. Carl’s slim shoulders and sharp shoulder blades looked fragile under Hope’s healthy grasp. With a blink, Devon realized Carl wasn’t even as tall as Hope, who stood a full half-foot shorter than Devon’s rangy six-two. He’d always known Carl was small for a guy, it’d been one of his attractions even—ethereal, finely sculpted, and spritely—but he seemed smaller than ever in her arms.
Carl pulled back and winked at her. “It’s fine,” he told her in his deep voice.
It always startled Devon how gravelly and rough Carl sounded, like he smoked a pack a day or deep-throated thick-dicked truckers for a living. It was the exact opposite of his appearance, and the contradiction had always put Devon’s dick on alert. He’d sat through several very awkward family dinners with a half-chub because of Carl’s sexy voice and elfin face. And, okay, if he were honest, those evenings of unwanted attraction had fed into his eventual agreement to participate in this weekend’s planned activities.
“Seriously, it’s all good,” Carl said. Hope looked like she might cry, which was just plain weird since, as far as Devon could tell, this had been all her idea. Carl kissed her forehead. “I’m fine. Go. Have fun with Melanie.”
“Okay,” Hope agreed and then shot Devon a sharp glance as if he’d done something wrong. He shook his head but didn’t get to ask what the hell that was about because she turned, hiked her overnight bag onto her shoulder, and ran out into the rain. Her dark curls tightened into frizz as she darted between drops and climbed into her friend’s car.
“That’s all done, then,” Carl said as they watched the red Honda back out of the drive and pull away. “That was the hard part.” He cleared his throat. “Right?”
Devon had no idea what Carl was talking about but the slight rise at the end of the wordrightwas the first time he’d ever heard Carl sound even close to uncertain about anything at all and so he said, “Right,” like he even had a clue.
Carl nodded, stepped forward to take the front door out of Devon’s hands, and shut it.
