Page 133 of Detectives in Love
“Hey, Mon. How are you?”
“I’m fine. How areyou?” she shoots back. “Did he come home?”
“Who?” I ask, stalling even though I know exactly who she means.
“Xavier.”
“Yeah.”
“So you two made up?”
“Uh-huh,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Are you working today?”
“Yes, but don’t change the subject,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “So you’re not sad anymore?”
“No, I’m good,” I say, smiling before I even realize it. I don’t want to overthink it. I just feel good.
There’s a brief pause on her end. Then her tone shifts, suspicious again. “Wait. You’retoohappy. What happened?”
“Nothing,” I say, but I already know I’m a terrible liar.
“Newt,” she says, suddenly serious. “Are you twoactually together?”
There’s another pause.
“No, of course not,” I snort, rolling my eyes.
“Newt, I know exactly what it sounds like when you’re lying your ass off—and you’re doing it right now,” she says, mock-annoyed. Then she goes quiet for a beat before letting out a gasp of realization. “Wait, wait, wait. Did you guys fuck?”
“Oh god,” I sigh, cringing so hard my face hurts. This is not a conversation I want to have with my sister.
“You did, didn’t you?” she presses. “Don’t lie to me, Newton.”
“We kissed,” I say at last—leaving out the part where Xavier had me on my back, grinding into me with his hard cock, or the part where he jerked me off with his hand slick from his own cum. A kiss did happen, so technically, I’m not lying.
Monica lets out a squeal so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear.
“I called it!” she shouts. “I called it, I called it, I called it!”
“Shut up,” I say, though my smile’s stretching wider by the second. “It doesn’t mean anything. He was sort of…poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” I can practically hear her raising an eyebrow. “Poisoned with love for you?” she giggles.
“Oh, shut it,” I huff, just as I spot a cab pulling up. “I have to go, Mon. I’m in the middle of something.”
“In the middle of kissing Xavier?” she teases, her voice slipping right back into that childhood sing-song tone.
“How old are you, three?” I grumble, trying to sound annoyed—but I’m not. It actually feels…weirdly good to admit that maybe—just maybe—some of it meant something.
“I’m happy for you, little brother,” Monica says, and there’s real warmth in her voice. “You’re a bit old for a coming out party, but hey—you were always a late bloomer.”
“Ha-ha,” I mutter, lips twitching as I reach the taxi. “Talk later. I’ve gotta go.”
“Fine. Say hi to Xavier.”
“I won’t,” I say, and hang up.
As I slide into the car, the smile creeps back onto my face. And for a few minutes, as we pull away and turn onto the main road, I just sit there, grinning to myself like an idiot.
