Page 71 of The Retreat

“Don’t ruin my fun. I don’t have many opportunities to fuck with him anymore.” I side-eye him. “I could go back to annoying you instead.”

“I really don’t know which is worse.”

“Oliver is so hard to fuck with too! This is like winning the lottery.” I kiss his cheek as the doors slide open, and Isaac is standing with a drink in his hand, a button-up shirt and slacks on.

Oh, this is going to be great.

Owen sighs as I stride out to embrace my friend. “Hello Isaac, you look dashing.” I air kiss both of his cheeks. “Dinner smells delicious, though I hope it’s not for a while. I need to let my previous meal settle a bit.”

Owen snorts and starts coughing. Isaac looks between us, confused. “You knew we were having dinner, and you ate before you came over?”

“What can I say? I’m insatiable.” I shrug out of my jacket and toss it over the back of the couch.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a t-shirt,” Isaac says to Owen, who is pouring me a glass of wine. “Spelunking Enthusiast?”

“It’s about fucking time–” Oliver appears from down the hall and comes to an abrupt stop when he sees Owen’s shirt. It’s all I can do not to cackle when Oliver turns slowly to me, a mask of horror and fury on his face. “This is your fault.”

I wait for him to read my shirt while Owen watches the liquid in his glass, swirling around.

“Does that say ‘dick spelunking anonymous’?” Isaac squeaks.

“It does.” I nod. It also has a picture of a peach with heart hands and a flashlight shining behind it is what really brings it all together.

Owen throws back his drink in a single swallow. Probably smart to get the buzz going now before Oliver loses his shit.

“What—” Isaac is staring at my shirt, trying to read the tagline under the peach.

“Cum explore my cave. That’s what it says,” Owen says monotone, before refilling his glass and joining me in the living room.

“What is happening?” Oliver demands.

“We’re bonding.” I shrug. “You should be happy for your brother.”

“You don’t need to fucking bond. It’s not a real marriage.”

“The state of Nevada disagrees.” I take the wineglass from Owen. “Thank you, darling.”

Oliver narrows his eyes. “Are you being forced to do this? Do we need a safe word?”

I glare at Oliver. “He put it on willingly.”

“Is that true?” Oliver demands.

Owen rolls his eyes. “He asked me to wear it, and since your invitation didn’t have a dress code…”

Oliver’s mouth falls open. “I cannot believe I have to have a formal dinner to get to see my own twin.” He says twin like it’s an abomination. “And you use it for nefarious purposes?!”

I almost feel bad for him. “I guess you could include a dress code next time.”

“Isaac, how are you enjoying your art classes?” Owen asks, changing the subject.

“It’s so great. I’m learning so much about technique and different mediums.” My friend glows, and it makes me smile. “I have some pieces finished if you want to see?”

“Of course.” I motion for him to lead, and I follow him into the office he shares with Oliver. His art supplies have started to take over the space. A drop cloth is on the floor under an easel with a half-done painting on it, paints, a painted jar, sketch pad and pencils set down here and there.

It must drive Oliver insane, but to my shock Oliver comes up behind Isaac, putting his hand on the small of his back, leaning in to kiss him. “You’re so talented.”

Isaac turns red before he pulls out a big brown portfolio with handles and unties it, flipping through whatever he has inside. “Here,” he says with a smile on his face. He lifts the large paper with a graphite drawing of a fencer in en garde position. I assume it’s Oliver from the confidence in the stance.

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