He laughs. “I’ll keep an eye out. Well, I’m off. Later.”
“You’re not coming back in?”
“Nah, I’m going to head home.”
“Okay, well, nice meeting you or whatever.”
“It was nice meeting you, too, Matt. Or whatever.”
Our eye contact lasts a little too long, and then he spins and walks away. I push open the door of the bar. I laugh, at the ridiculousness of this whole thing. I start coming up with a lie I can use if anyone asks where I went.
What can I say? I wanted some air?
I go in and see Luke. He’s talking to a family friend of ours, Cassidy, giving her all his attention. She’s in a short black dress and heels with red bottoms. Her hand is on his chest, sliding through the gap in the material of his shirt. Dad is nowhere to be seen, which means he’s probably upstairs. That’s where the serious business is done.
Huh.
I don’t think anyone even noticed I left. That means I got away with it.
CHAPTER THREE
I’m laying out by our pool, lounging on a deck chair.
I haven’t stopped thinking about what happened last night.
I met Jason … whateverhislastnameis. And I know it might be stupid, because we just went to a crappy diner to get a surprisingly un-crappy burger. And shakes. And waffle fries.
But it felt kind of special to me, like we just sort of … clicked.
I don’t know.
I’ve tried to find him online, but so far, nobody I’m friends with knows anyone named Jason. Which makes me think maybe he doesn’t use social media much. He gave the impression he was a sort of busy guy, so maybe he’s got too much going on to keep up a social media presence.
Which feels like nonsense, even to me.
Hot guys like him love social media.
Where else would they post thirst traps? Why even work out if you’re not going to post shirtless photos?
I just need to look harder.
I sit up and unlock my phone. I load my cousin Ethan’s Facebook and search his friends for anyone called Jason. He has one, and my heart kind of soars, but then when I click through, I see it’s not him. Unless he looks really different in person. I …
The gate to the pool opens, and Luke steps inside. He’s holding a towel and is wearing black trunks.
He throws the towel onto the deck chair beside me and then pulls his shirt off over his head. He fixes his hair, adjusts his trunks, then thumps down. He puts his arms behind his head, stretching out.
He’s so defined; it’s so unfair. I know he works out almost every day and tracks his calories and macros, so I’d probably look more like him if I paid more attention to it. Still, it feels so damn unfair that he has a sculpted torso, complete with a defined six-pack, and I don’t.
It’s just rude.
We look so alike in every other way. We both have black hair, and both got Dad’s brown eyes and thick eyebrows. But being buff makes all his features click together in a way mine don’t. I try not to be hard on myself, but he was right about what he said last night. He is the good-looking one.
He pumps out some sunscreen from the tube I have beside me, and slaps it down onto his chest.
“Where’d you go?” he asks.
“Huh?”
“Last night, you disappeared for a while. Where’d you go?”
I don’t have a lie planned. I truly thought I’d gotten away with it. I should’ve expected Luke to notice, though.
“Oh, nowhere exciting. I was craving fries, so I went to the diner down the road.”
“By yourself?”
I shrug.
“You’re a weird dude, anyone ever tell you that?”
“You did, just now.”
He laughs. “Where was my invite? I’m bulking, you know I need all the calories I can get.”
He slaps his hard stomach. I have no idea how the whole muscle thing works, that he can eat burgers and stuff and still look like him. It seems to go against everything I’ve been taught at school about being healthy.
“You were busy.”
“Doing what?”
I chew my nail. “You were with Cass, remember?”
“Oh yeah. I almost forgot. So many girls, so little time, you know?”
Obviously, I don’t.
“Did you two hook up?” I ask as I put my hands behind my head, so I’m mirroring him. In front of me is my pool, then a small stretch of perfectly kept lawn. Dad makes us cut it on alternating Saturdays. If I forget, Luke reminds me. It looks really short, so I guess he’s already done it this morning.
“Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” he says.
I roll my eyes.
“How ’bout you?” he asks.
“Are you asking if I hooked up with Cass?”
“No. Did you meet any girls?”
“What do you think? Nobody even noticed I was there.”
“God, stop being so pathetic. I’m telling you, just find a girl who gives you a happy feeling down there, then give ’em the old Miller smolder. They’ll become obsessed with you, for the night, anyway. Trust me.”
My brother, folks. I love him. But he’s such a douchebag.
“Noted,” I say.
I don’t know why I said that, because I already know it’s not really possible for a girl to give me any sort of feeling down there. Trust me, I’ve tried. I watched all sorts of videos on the internet, hoping they’d inspire some sort of reaction in me. Like I’d see one girl, the right girl, and everything would click into place. But my attention is always, always, drawn to the guys.
I’m just built that way.
I’m done with this conversation, so I turn the volume of my music up, roll over, and face the opposite direction.
* * *
It’s Monday, and I’m at school, wishing I had the powers of the Invisible Woman from the Fantastic Four.
Naturally.
The main hallway is bustling, filled with people grabbing stuff from their lockers or heading to class. Guys high-five. Girls whisper things to one another. A teacher yells at a boy who is running somewhere, threatening him with detention if he doesn’t slow down.
I’m thinking about Jason again.
I’m still confused.
I’m starting to think he’s, like, a ghost or something. Or a figment of my imagination, created out of extreme loneliness. I created a cute gamer guy because he’s, like, my dream friend.
Who has no social media?
I know it’s hard to find someone if you don’t know their last name. But still, how can he not be friends with anyone I know?
It’s probably for the best, though. I’m officially thinking about him too much. Having access to his social media would just push things over the edge. It’s sure to be really cute, filled with selfies of him gaming and stuff. And maybe hot. He probably posts thirst traps, and I very much want to see those.
I pull my phone from my pocket, put my earbuds in, and hit play on my current playlist. The top song is “Straight to My Head” by You Me at Six, which is this song I’ve become weirdly obsessed with lately. It’s pretty much the only song I listen to. I turn the volume up way too high to be safe, but whatever. It lifts my mood almost instantly.