Page 56 of On the Edge

My phone ringsless than five minutes after I receive a notification from my banking app that a deposit has been made. Tucking my pen into the textbook to save my place, I close the cover and bring the phone to my ear.

“Jakob,” I greet my brother with a smile. “Guten Abend.”

“Bruderherz,” he replies fondly. “Kein Deutsch mehr. Wir haben darüber gesprochen. Du musst dein Englisch verbessern.”

I sigh. He’s right. Jakob picked up English quickly—speaking it with the ease of a native. Even his accent disappears when he’s on the phone with clients.

“Yes, you are right.”

“Of course I am. Big brothers know best,” he says stoutly. “Did you get the money I sent you? I don’t trust the banks here. I put in five hundred, but if that is not enough, I can always transfer more.”

“Jakob, I do not need so much.” Scuffing my foot alongthe floor, I shake my head even though he can’t see it. I rarely spend the money he sends me, but it doesn’t stop him from sending it. My brother lives in fear of me needing help but being caught up in the red tape of wiring money from my parents in Germany to me in South Carolina.

“Nonsense. Everyone needs money. Buy some new clothes—I know how you are, Bruderherz.”

“My clothes are fine,” I say weakly, glancing at my wardrobe and immediately thinking of Atlas. He would probably faint if I ever showed up to classnotwearing a polo shirt.

“Well, it’s your money. Spend it however you wish. How are things going otherwise? Did you hear back about that internship?”

“Things are well. I am struggling with some of the English classes—I am not so smart as you.” Jakob makes a disgruntled noise, but doesn’t interrupt. He is my staunchest supporter and doesn’t like it when I say things about myself he doesn’t agree with. “I did get the internship, though. I am thinking Coach Mackenzie is why.”

“Bullshit,” he scoffs. “You got the internship because you are incredibly smart, talented, and hardworking. Also, devastatingly handsome.”

I laugh happily. “I am looking exactly like you. You are putting honey in your own ear, I am thinking.”

Jakob scoffs, but I can hear his smile in the noise. I am lucky to have a brother like him. We never wanted for anything growing up, with two hardworking and successful parents, and we spent so much time together that the age gap never mattered much. We were brothers and best friends, and that bond has only gotten stronger in adulthood.

“That was pretty good. I’ve never heard you use a saying like that before,” he notes. I practically puff up with pride atthe words. Atlas is apparently teaching me more than sex things.

“Yes, I am learning that from my friend Atlas. He tells me I pour honey in his ear when I call him beautiful.”

Jakob chuckles a little. “Well, I’m not sure friends often use that word choice. Unless—is this Atlas a special kind offriend?”

“Yes.” I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. I’ve never talked to my brother about this sort of thing before. Will he care that Atlas is a man? “Is that okay?”

“Bruderherz, stop. Of course that’s fine. Mama will give you a sex talk when you tell her, though. Be warned. She won’t care how old you are. When I got married, I even gotpamphlets. I know everything there is to know about childbirth, Henri.”

“Goodness. I do not think I want pamphlets for sex.”

“I hate to break this to you, but it doesn’t matter what you want. My advice would be to avoid any packages she sends you after you tell her about your Atlas. God only knows what sort of medical literature might be in there.”

Sighing, I bite my lip again and spin my chair in an idle circle. “Atlas is not mine, Jakob. We are only friends.”

“Ah.” He makes a stern, disbelieving noise in the back of his throat. I can practically see him waving a hand through the air, scattering my words. “You are so young. Give it time. Friends is a good place for a relationship to start. Now, let’s talk about this internship. None of my clients play for South Carolina, but I know your coach?—”

Opening my French notebook to a fresh page, I jot down notes as I listen to him talk. My mother is whom you would go to for questions concerning your health, and my father knows everything there is to know about foreignaffairs and policies, but the sports world belongs to Jakob. We talk for an hour, before he has to go and meet up with a new potential client. Before we hang up, he reminds me once more to check my bank account and to do something fun with it.

“Take Atlas to dinner,” he recommends, which makes me feel like I was walking down a staircase and missed the last two steps.

“Yes,” I mumble. “That is a good idea. I shall do that.”

True to my word, I log in to my account and see a fresh deposit of five hundred waiting for me. Also, because I told Jakob I would, I text Atlas to see if he would want to grab something to eat. I type out the message and delete it several times. No matter how I write the words, I can’t make it sound less date-like.

Henri

Hello, Atlas. I am thinking I will go get dinner off campus. If you are hungry, you could join me.

Atlas

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