Page 19 of Man On

One side of my mouth gets away from me, and I grin against my will.

"Well, at least we have separate rooms. You won’t have to look at or hear me too much, so I don’t make you uncomfortable."

"At least there's that," he agrees with a wry smile. He backs up, but pauses and takes one step further inside my doorway. "I'm sorry I've been less than friendly," he says, and I'm impressed at my ability to hold back my scoff. It's like the simple apology is painful to him. "There's been… I don't know. Stuff. I guess."

So eloquent.

I nod, silence stretching out between us, and I want to say something, but I don’t know what. I want to remind him that I’ll leave him alone, but also let him know I’m here if he changes his mind.

“I'm here if you need me, bro." I wince when the words come out sounding as suggestive in a way I didn’t intend for them tol. In no way should any sentence with the word ‘bro’ be suggestive.

He doesn't get mad again, just hums noncommittally and leaves, pulling the door shut behind him. I sag against the wall and huff out a deep sigh.

How long before this isn't so awkward?

"Duuude," Miah says, too loudly. "How excited are you to be rooming with your grouchy ass brother?"

"He's not my brother," I counter, my voice not much lower than his. I don't know why I feel the need to make that abundantly clear to the rest of the team, most of whom are already seated for our team meetup.

Athletes move in before most of the student population, so not everything on campus is running like it will when the semester officially starts. There's only one cafeteria open on campus right now, but it’s just pre-made sandwiches and cut fruit at this point. Which is fine, but the team wanted to get together for something more and this place is supposed to be a local favorite for pizza and subs.

"That good, yeah?” He laughs at my pained expression and then gets distracted, arguing with another player about how many pizzas we should order.

When I glance up from my menu, Lane is watching me with an unreadable expression. Did he hear me? Is he upset about what I said? It's not like it isn't true. Our parents being married doesn't make him my brother. His mom is the only mom I've ever known, since mine died when I was three. But Lane didn't come along until later, and our relationship was strained from the start. Not only because of what happened that first summer at camp, but because of how freaking weird he was. Although I'm beginning to understand more about why he struggled so much with normal social graces. His mother had dropped hints here and there about the environment he grew up in. And my father made sure that I not only understood that he comes from a different situation, but also that I shouldn't bring it up.

Like his name. He’d always been called Isaiah, then my dad got a text message the day Hannah picked him up saying he wanted to be called Lane. I knew nothing about him aside from that he grew up super religious, and that he changed his name. They never talked about him much until the day Hannah got the news that her dad had died. There was a flurry of emotions and activity that I didn't quite understand, and a lot of calls to lawyers. A few days later, my dad and Hannah sat me down and told me that my long-lost step brother would be moving in.

I raise my eyebrows at the grouchy ass in question. You're staring, I mouth. He looks away, and I notice how uncomfortable he seems. He hasn’t engaged with anyone from the team at all. I think of what my dad said, and my shoulders drop. I should at least try.

When I drop into the seat across from him, he seems wary, casting his eyes around to the rest of the table. He sat two empty spaces away from anyone else at the very end of the table. I've noticed one or two of our new teammates try to talk to him, and while he wasn't rude by any means, he isn't exactly throwing off welcoming vibes.

"Taco. Pizza." I say with a flourish, throwing a menu down between us. His eyebrow quirks and he pulls the menu towards him. He stares at it incredulously. "I mean, it's pretty genius. How did we never think of it before? The two best foods on the planet, in one. If that's not a gift from God, I don't know what is." That gets a chuckle out of him, and it feels like an accomplishment.

When he first moved in with us, there were a lot of foods he'd never tried before that blew my mind. How does someone go fourteen years without ever trying pizza?! He had a really strange reaction when he tried it the first time. It was clear that he loved it. He moaned and everything before pulling back and staring at it like it had spoken to him. Then he put it down and politely excused himself.

It took almost six months for Hannah and my dad to convince him it was okay to enjoy food. I listened from around the corner while Hannah had to explain that not everything that tasted good or felt good was evil, and that she believed pleasure was a gift from God, not a trap to test us.

I think me eating three times as much pizza as I normally would, and being probably a little too expressive over how good it was, is what finally broke him. The first time he ate more than two slices, I promised to introduce him to my absolute favorite food—tacos.

It's about the only thing we've ever bonded over. Well…I like to think the, uh, supervised self-love was a bonding exercise, but he might not agree.

There's an awkward silence after we agree to share the taco pizza and give our order to the pretty waitress that is so obviously flirting with Lane it's almost sad when he ignores her. I don't think he's shooting her down; he's genuinely unaware that he's being hit on. I almost make a joke about needing to be more direct, but stop myself before the words can come out of my mouth.

"Look, man… I'm sorry," I blurt.

He looks up at me with confusion.

"I thought… I don't know what I thought, okay?" I thought you liked it. I thought you needed me to get you out of your head. I thought it gave me the upper hand in our fucked up dynamic. I thought controlling you would make me feel better about myself. "I didn't think you hated it, or that I was actually forcing you into anything. It never should have happened in the first place, but it certainly shouldn't have continued. It won't happen again."

Lane looks around nervously, obviously worried someone might overhear our conversation, but none of them are paying attention to us. His eyes narrow. "It won't?"

"Never," I promise. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable living with me."

His expression is indiscernible. Maybe he doesn't believe me? The fucked-up part of my brain that actually enjoys tormenting him thinks maybe it’s disappointment on his face. But that's ridiculous.

Our pizza comes and we eat in silence after I watch him close his eyes to pray. I get one big smile from him after he takes his first bite of the combination from heaven, and it feels like I just scored a winning goal.

CHAPTER 6

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