“I’m used to sleeping alone, too.”
We stare at each other for a few moments, lying on our sides, facing each other from opposite ends of the bed.
“We’re going to have to learn how to sleep together,” he says quietly like this small thing might derail everything else.
“Or we’ll compete over who gets the most space on the mattress and who ends up with all the blankets wrapped around them by morning.”
He grins. Then, he pulls me into his arms.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I’m alone in bed. I don’t need to open my eyes to know there’s not another body beside me anymore. Grinning, I stretch my arms and legs as far as I can, then I roll around all over the mattress and sniff the pillowcases like a complete psycho.
And I accused him of being a stalker.
When I open my eyes, there he is. Standing beside the bed with a breakfast plate in his hands and a piece of bacon clutched between his grinning teeth.
“You … were not supposed to be here to see that.”
He bites back the bacon into his mouth the way a snake chokes down a mouse and mumbles while chewing, “Oh, I’m so glad I didn’t miss that show.”
He gestures for me to scoot over, so I do. He climbs in beside me and puts the plate between us. “Did you snoop to your heart’s content while I was gone?”
“I just woke up. How long have you been gone?”
He snags another piece of bacon from the plate and continues talking while chewing, “About two hours. Aren’t you going to eat?”
Breakfast in bed is an extremely sweet gesture. Even though he wanted the chance to make amends, he also deserves to know exactly what he’s considering committing to. “I don’t actually eat breakfast.”
He pops his eyebrows while he continues devouring bacon. “How is that possible? I’m always starving in the morning.”
“I’m not hungry until around lunchtime.” I shrug and take a piece anyway because … bacon. “Where did you go? I didn’t even know I was in bed alone until a few minutes ago.”
“To work out.”
I’m not surprised to hear that. There’s no way anyone gets a body like his without putting in the time and the effort. And that body is still sadly covered by a fresh T-shirt and sweatpants that were hanging deliciously low on his hips when he was watching my freak show.
“If you’re so anti-football, then why do you get up early to sculpt yourself into a wide-receiver physique?”
He glares at me. “How do you know what position my brother plays?”
“Google.”
“Why were you Googling Alex?”
I grin. “Know thine enemy.”
“You expect me to believe you were looking up any tidbit of information you could find on the internet about me?” He glares then smiles. “Fine. I’ll accept that as a plausible answer because I did the same thing.”
Yeah, he was probably cyberstalking me to find out any potential weaknesses. In hindsight, it could have been either to use against me or for me.
“You still didn’t answer my question,” I point out. “Why do you work out?”
“Taking care of myself has nothing to do with football. I only get one body, so I treat it like a temple.”
“A temple built of bacon bricks.” I snort.
“I’m a college student.” He shoves another piece in his mouth. “It’s cheap protein. Protein is vital for muscle recovery. What about you? When do you work out? What do you like to do?”
“Uh, when I don’t have mountains of coursework, I like to sit on my couch and binge-watch TV.”
He runs his gaze up and down my body with the focus of an actual touch.
I shiver.
“You don’t look like a couch potato.”
“Uh … thanks. I think?”
He nods. “It was a compliment. I know this is foreign territory, so I’ll be sure to point out when it’s not sarcasm until you get the hang of it.”
“Thanks.” I pile in all the sarcasm I can in my tone. “Anyway, I hate working out. Abs are built in the kitchen, so I just watch what I eat. If you ever see me running, you should probably run, too, because it means something is chasing me.”
“Nah. I would probably do something reeking of toxic masculinity, like try to save you instead.”
I laugh at that.
“So, we’ve established you don’t like running. Maybe you just haven’t found an activity you like enough to stick with.”
“Like weight lifting?” I smirk. “No, thanks. I’ve had enough. Even from the little bit I did at camp, it seems like it would be more boring than running. How did you even get into that? You obviously know a lot about it.”
“Alex,” he confesses with a glaring side-eye that dares me to make fun of him. “When I was little, I wanted to be just like him. I followed him around everywhere and probably drove him crazy, but he never complained. Instead, he taught me everything he knew.”
“Except how to be a man-whore, apparently.”
Jim shrugs. “I outgrew the idea of him. To people outside our family, it seemed like he lived a charmed life. He was one of the best players on the team, drove a nice car, wore the most expensive sneakers, and could get any date he wanted. Everyone wanted to be him because they never saw the real him. Even now, living in a mansion in Florida as a millionaire who makes his money playing football sounds like every guy’s dream, but he’s constantly getting injured. He spends most of the off-season getting weird state-of-the-art treatments to help him recover faster, and he knows his career is going to be over by the time I’m hitting my prime. He loves football—don’t get me wrong. He wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t, but there are definite drawbacks.”
Jim doesn’t hate his brother at all. He just hates the expectations that go along with living in his shadow.
“You’re actually really close to him, aren’t you?”
He nods. “We’re brothers. We love each other.”
“And what about your younger brother, Davey?”
He smirks. “You know my younger brother’s name, too? Wow. You were thorough with your online stalking. He’s not as easy to find as Alex.”
“Why is that? Did he want to distance himself from Alex’s celebrity, too?”
“No.” Jim smiles again, but this one is tinged with sadness. “Davey’s autistic. Not the high-functioning kind you see on all kinds of TV shows now. He didn’t graduate high school, didn’t go to college. He lives at home with our parents, and they love him, would never put him in a group home, but they worry about what will happen to him when they die.”
“You or Alex wouldn’t take him in?”
“Yes, we would.” He carefully studies me. “I guess that’s something you should know in advance.”
I’m not sure if I should be insulted by his cautious tone. “Do you expect me to run away, screaming, at the mere idea?”
“I’m just giving you full disclosure.”
“For something that won’t happen for many years.”