Page 34 of Hits Different

“Bullshit”, Brandon says. “The only person who’s ever thought the worst of you is you. You’re here for a fresh start, right?”

Now it’s my turn to shrug.

“Is there really not something that you could do that would blow his mind?” Brandon wheedles. For some reason, my mind flashes back to the never-gonna-happen-list in the storeroom. All those jobs that never get done. “Or at the very least, change it?”

I could have a go, I suppose. He probably wouldn’t even notice. But it’d be a start, and I guess I’d have something to show for my summer other than not answering phones and screwing up paperwork. “Whatever you’re thinking about, do it”.

I pull a face. “How’d you know?”

“Best friend privilege. Can I say something else?”

“Could I stop you?”

“No evidence of it so far”. He taps his index finger against his hand, “Your family don’t think you’re a loser. And I know for a fact that your dad never did”.

I suddenly feel light-headed. None of my friends from college ever knew my dad. No-one in my life does, really, apart from Simon and my mom. And we’re not exactly on the best of terms. When Brandon says it, he means it.

And that means something.

I gesture to the beer pong table. “Care to end the night on a more entertaining note?” He grins, and starts stacking up half a dozen empty cups on his side of the table, then rolls the pack towards me so I can do the same.

I sink the first one immediately. “Okay, Carter. We’ve got three years of debauchery to catch up on. You’ve been in your fuck-boy era and don’t pretend otherwise”.

He laughs then, a proper Brandon laugh. Half snort, half giggle. Only guy I know who sounds like he’s guilty of finding something funny. “Let’s start with something easy. How’s the family? I heard your cousin got married”.

“Everyoneheard my cousin got married. There was a website”. His tone softens. “She’s happy, though. Her husband’s a good guy. Two kids now. I got godfather duties”.

“No way! So you’re Uncle Brandon?”

“One and the same. Milo and Daphne. They’re pretty cute if I do say so myself”. He slides over his phone, so I can see a picture of two identical blonde kids sitting either side of Brandon, surrounded by a stack of presents. “I can’t believe they’re almost two now”.

“I can’t believe you wore a Christmas jumper”, I hand his phone back, “No wonder you can’t get a boyfriend”.

“Oi!”

“I’ll see your cute godchildren”. I whistle as his ball bounces harmlessly off the table, “And raise you two half siblings”.

I feel ridiculous even saying that, given how infrequently I see them. My mom had my half-brother and half-sister in quick succession after she and Donnie got married. Danny and Drue. They’re five years old. I’m not even sure if they really get who I am.

But that’s a bit deep for tonight. “No matching Christmas jumper for me though”.

“You don’t know what you’re missing”.

We carry on like that for ages, filling in missing time. When it finally turns midnight, we lock up and walk back across the courtyard. Something’s humming in my stomach. He was honest with me earlier, and I want to do the same.

“Stop a second”. He turns to me, the moonlight illuminating the texture of his hair. “Back in high school. We called you the Artful Dodger because anytime anyone ever tried to talk to you about anything personal, you’d change the subject and split”.

He opens his mouth to protest, but I keep going, “Everyone liked you, but nobody really knew you. Because you didn’t let them”. I swallow. “You didn’t letme”.

He rubs the back of his neck, “I wanted to. But it was hard, and I was scared. I didn’t like not being honest. It wasn’t easy not to tell you stuff. I tell you everything”.

“You still can”, I pause, “You can trust me. If you’re game?”

He inclines his head. Not yes. But not no either.

I’ll take that.

* * * *

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