Page 100 of Embody

“Okay,” she shrugs, her mind and eyes already flitting to bigger and better things. “Look, let’s go buy our T-shirts before they sell out.” She points to the booth where they’re being sold. “Bellamy, come with,” she doesn’t ask, dragging her away.

“Y’all go watch them,” I tell Ryder and Sutton. “I need to talk to Brynny. We’ll meet you all at our seats, for real this time.”

Once we’re alone, my sister and I get in the line shuffling into the arena. As I’m choosing my words, she speaks them for me. “Lemme take a stab at it, bro. Bellamy’s acting weird.”

How the hell do women do that? I’m rendered even more speechless, not that she needs me to even talk obviously, and silently gawk at her.

She nudges me forward in the moving line and snickers. “I haven’t had a chance to ask her yet, so I’m not sure if you messed it up after and hurt her feelings, scared her, shocked her or she’s just inside her head deciding how she feels about it, but Idoknow what set whatever is going on in motion.”

“Wanna share with the class?” I ask, turning to buy a four-crate of draft beers from the passing vendor.

“Yeah, it’s for the greater good, so I don’t mind telling you. But you have toswearto somehow fake figuring it out on your own. Donottell her I told you or this will be the last time I ever help you.”

“Got it.” I nod. “This is our row, turn in.”

We shuffle sideways, knocking against people’s legs, all whom act like it’s putting them out and tempt me to “accidently” spill some beer on them. Finally in our seats, she turns in hers to look me in the eyes. “You said you loved her. Earlier, at her apartment.”

“Iwhat?” Pretty sure they heard me backstage…and now I do spill some beer.

“Uh huh,” she bobs her head several times, sporting a huge, clever smile. “In her room, when she told you she wasn’t onSnapchat. You said, and I quote, ‘God, I love you. That’s my girl.’”

Well fuck me sideways, I sure as hell did. And perhaps a bit slow on the uptake, I catch up, putting the pieces together. In the car, after she asked me if there was anything else I loved besides her skirt…clueless, I’d brushed right over it.

“JT.” Brynn shakes me. “What is it? You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

“It’s a good possibility. I, I don’t know how to fix it, because now I have two problems and no answers to either one.” I swallow down the rising, acidic burn of worry.

“Well, you’ve got to get that puke-green hue and bug-eyed stare gone before she gets here, so tell me the problems and we’ll speed-solve.”

Love my Brynny, so level-headed. At the moment, anyway.

“Problem numero-uno is obviously fixing things with Bellamy. I don’t want her mad, sad, confused…nothing. Just happy. But I’m not sure how to fix the first until I figure out the second.”

“Which is?” She already knows; her poker face is a know-it-all, mile-wide grin.

I take a big drink from one of the beers, wipe my mouth, inhale…and blurt it out. “DoI love her? They say the subconscious stores information we either don’t have room to, or don’t want to, comprehend.”

“I can’t answer that, Freud. This one’s all on you, brother,” she laughs. “You’re a smart guy, fix the first one now, as honestly as you can, and take your time figuring out the second. Now sshh, here they come.”

We stand, Brynn moving down, and when arranged to everyone’s liking, we sit: me, Bellamy, Presley, Sutton, Brynn, and Ryder. Guys on the endcaps, all the girls caged between us, safe…just how I like it.

Presley’s showing off the shirt she bought when I notice Bellamy doesn’t have one. I bend to her ear. “Baby, I thought you wanted a shirt?”

“Nah, I’m good. I just went to keep Presley company in line.”

Presley, unable to be anyone but herself, leans forward with her eavesdropping ass. “She’s lying. She wanted one but refused to let me buy it for her.”

“I’m sorry, Bellamy, I wasn’t thinking. Let’s-”

“Jefferson Tate Kendrick, if you offer to buy me athirty-five-dollart-shirt or make one move for your wallet, we’re gonna have problems. I said I was good,” she softens her tone and rubs my leg. “Promise.”

“Whatever you say,” I lean in and kiss her, looking past her to Presley, who grins and nods—she’ll grab the shirt for me and say it was from her.

Squad Secret Language—no one’s immune.

I pass a beer to Presley, Sutton and Ryder, and again, realize I’m the world’s worst date. “You want me to run and get you a drink?” I ask Bellamy.

“I’ll just share with you, if that’s okay?”

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