Page 65 of The Lost Kings
Which is why I didn’t realize someone had come into the room. It had to have been someone who crawled through the locker window and knew of that entry point if there wasn’t a way in through the main locker doors, and there was only one person beside me or Presley that would know that.
“What the hell are you two doing?” His harsh reprimand had us separating and Presley briskly backing up.
“Gio.”
His eyes were narrowed, his arms crossed, and there was a slight flush to his face, giving away that he wasn’t just angry, he was hurt.
“It’s not what you think.” Presley bent down to grab her shorts and brought them up to her chest to cover herself.
My twin kept his glare pinned on me as if I were the person who had betrayed him. Technically I did, but only because the way we’d started things with her, it didn’t feel like she belonged to just me or to just him. She felt like she was ours, and whoever found her first would have her.
“What is it you think I assume is going on?” my brother finally asked.
Presley drew closer to him. “That we’re leaving you out or sneaking around without you.”
Gio laughed, but I knew it was the kind of laugh that led to him pushing people into pools and him sinking knives into people’s sides. “Was I here between you two and I not know it?”
Presley was standing right in front of him now, trembling because she was no longer under the hot water. “No, I just mean that King was here, and if you were here, then I would have gone in with you. I started with both of you, and?—”
“How nice of you to think of us as so interchangeable, Elvis. Really fucking nice.”
He turned away and swiftly exited the locker room, letting the door swing open and risking us being discovered.
Presley had angry tears gathering along her lashes as she bent to grab her bra before dashing off toward the other locker room.
I was left standing there, feeling like the shittiest brother ever.
Our abuela worea vibrant pink apron over her clothes. Her dark hair was pinned back and the veggies in front of her were being diced faster than anything I’d ever seen on television.
“Corta, Gio. Si sabes usar una espada, úsala,” she yelled at my brother in Spanish.
Chop, Gio. You know how to use a blade, use it.
Gio reached for another tomato and began dicing as he was told, but his chin remained pinned to his chest, his eyes narrowed. I stood next to him, dicing onions and piling them into a bowl. Our mom was across the kitchen next to Alex where they were making tortillas, and Dad was somewhere in the building giving orders and helping move canned goods.
I needed to talk to Gio, but it had to be where no one could hear us.
“Kingston.” My grandma clicked her tongue and I moved faster, knowing she was about to get after me.
Alex did something that drew her attention, which pulled her away from our station.
“I wasn’t trying to steal her,” I muttered quietly.
My brother kept chopping and ignored me.
“You know you would have taken the opportunity if you were me.”
That made his hand pause mid-swipe. I knew he would have, which was why I didn’t feel guilty about what I had done. Presley belonged to us both, but that didn’t mean we both had to be present every time we wanted her.
Gio finally replied with a snide tone, “I thought we weren’t going to talk about what happened in the car.”
I tried not to smile but failed. “We didn’t do any talking.”
He paused and swung his head around, eyes narrowed again. “Fuck you, King.”
“Stop it, look at me, Bro.” I set my blade down, but he didn’t.
“I would have waited to talk to you; I wouldn’t have just taken her into the locker room and fucked her,” Gio said angrily.
