Page 4 of Body Check
“I was asking if you wanted me to run down to Drip to get us some coffee? I know you were up early, so I figured you could use a boost. And I forgot to take my meds this morning, so I’ll mainline caffeine until it’s time for my next dose. That’s totally medically sound, by the way.”
I’m not so sure about that, but he’s a gown-ass man who can manage his own medication, so I keep my comments to myself. “Coffee sounds great, but I’ll walk with you. I mapped out where all my classes are, so I should be good to go, but can we do a dry run of my schedule?”
Bran shakes his head. “How are we even related? But yeah, we totally can.”
I grab my cross-body and my phone, bumping his shoulder as we head for the door. “Are you seriously telling me you didn’t map out the route to your classes before your first day here? How did you know where to go?”
“Easy. I just followed JT.”
“Did you have the same classes? The same major?” I ask as we approach the stairwell.
Bran grins. “Nope. But we do now. Turns out you can’t really get a degree in cybersecurity if you take kinesiology classes. And if you want a grade for a class, the school likes it better if you’re actually registered for the course. They don’t just want you showing up. Who knew?”
I’m laughing as we step out into the sunshine. Before we even make it across the courtyard, we’re accosted by a gaggle of women. Well,wearen’t accosted,heis.
“Mickey!” They shriek, piling onto him like he’s got possession of the football and they need to recover it in the final seconds of the big game. Not that this bleached-blonde brigade is under the mistaken impression that my brother plays football. Oh, no. These girls are hockey fans. Or, at least, hockey player fans. I know the type well, and they all fit the bill, pawing at his arms like he’s a wild animal and they’re aspiring lion-tamers. And for the record, as a licensed stylist, I have no issue with color or highlights. They account for more than half of my income. What I do have an issue with is bad dye jobs, and I can practically hear their fried strands crying out for conditioner.
“Ladies,” he says, with a dip of his chin. They fawn and giggle at his manners, completely oblivious to the fact that he doesn’t remember their names.
“Where are you headed? Is it true that the hockey team got a new place? Wanna give us a tour?” The tallest of the trio is firing questions at him while her friends are practically vibrating with excitement at the prospect of spending an hour with my brother.If I thought he was remotely interested, I’d happily bow out and make my way through campus and to the coffee shop on my own. I’m capable of reading a map, after all. But he’s squinting and rubbing the back of his neck—all telltale signs that needs my help to escape the situation he’s found himself in. I’ve been helping Bran fend off unwanted attention for nearly half my life now. And no, I never call him Mickey. His name was literally my first word, so he’ll always be Bran to me, just like I’ll always be Birdie to him, even though I’ve been going by Bridgette since high school.
“We really should get going if we don’t want to be late,” I say.
Bran offers a half-hearted smile to the lovelorn ladies. “Sorry, I’ve got plans with my sister,” he says, nodding in my direction and forcing his fans to acknowledge that I’m standing here. “I bet we’ll have a party soon, though. You know Ollie—he’s probably planning something already.”
“Fine. But you better text me the details for the party,” one of the girls says, punctuating her words by poking Bran’s chest with her stiletto nails.
“Absolutely,” he says, nodding his head as he squints.
I better drag him out of here before he gives away all of his tells. Luckily, though, I don’t have to drag him away. One of them squeals, pointing toward the fountain. “Lanza! Is that you?”
My brother’s smile is blinding. “That’s definitely Jake Lanza,” he tells the girls. “I heard a bunch of the baseball team was moving in today.”
By the time he’s finished with his sentence, the girls are long gone.
“You know you don’t have to give me a tour of campus, right? And I don’t have much more to unpack, so if you want to join your buddy Lanza?—”
“That guy’s a douchenozzle. And of course I’m gonna give you a tour and buy you a coffee and help you unpack. I’ll probably put everything away in the wrong place, and it’ll take you a week to find everything. How much fun is that? It’s like a personalized scavenger hunt.” He laughs before sobering. “I’m so damn glad you’re here, Birdie. I was afraid she’d pull some passive-aggressive bullshit and talk you into staying.
“She tried. And, as usual, Dad ignored it and pretended things were fine. But there’s no way I was staying. I feel bad for Brody, but they ignore him, the lucky duck. But you still need to have a life. Don’t put your whole social calendar on hold just because I’m here. I’m a big girl who can make my own friends. Plus, my orientation went well today. Everyone seems nice. I’ll make friends. You don’t have to babysit me.”
Bran rolls his eyes as he opens the door to the coffee shop. “Out of the two of us, I’m definitely the one who needs a babysitter. And don’t yell at me. You never set a house on fire. Besides, my social life is the same as it was all summer. I hang out with JT, just like always. Well, I also hang out with Maggie and Viv, now, too.”
I stop scanning the menu to quirk an eyebrow at Bran. “The baby’s name is Calla, not Viv.”
My brother gives me a side-eye. “Well aware. My niece is named after me, you know.”
That’s debatable, but it’s also a landmine. “Who’s Viv? Did JT and Maggie get a dog?”
His laugh rings out through the coffee shop. “Holy shit, Birdie. We are never telling Viv you thought she was a dog. Actually, she might like that. She’d be a cross between one of those floofy dogs who wear hair bows and a pit bull.”
“That’s quite the combination,” I say, my eyes wide.
“You’re telling me,” he says, a faraway look in his eyes. It’s not a zoned-out stare, either. It’s…wistful? Does my brotherhave a crush on someone? A floofy, bow-wearing pit bull? Before I can pry further, he’s placing our order and chatting up the barista. She’s a cute blonde with well-hydrated ends. Hmmm… Bran’s so damn friendly it’s hard to tell when he’s flirting or just talking. But this is a mystery for another day because it’s time for my campus tour.
Bran hands me my white chocolate cinnamon latte. “What’s your first class?” he asks.
“Psych in Crowder Hall,” I say, reading from the schedule on my phone. “Nealon is the prof. Have you heard anything about them?”
