Page 58 of Hits Different

“Sometimes”, his mouth drops, “But never intentionally. I know that. Mostly it was other people. Our teachers. Parents. Kids at school. Everyone knew you were going to blast off, and I was tagging along in your jet stream”.

“You were secretive about what you were really doing”, Brandon points out quietly. “You were running around training, competing, winning prizes in all those fighting competitions. But you never wanted it to get back to your parents. You had lots to be proud of, but you hid it”.

That’s hard to deny. My mom would have gone supernova if she knew I was kickboxing or learning judo every night after school. Brandon covered for me a million times. “For what it’s worth”, he adds, “I was proud. And I liked cheering you on”.

“Maybe I should have been more upfront about what I was…passionate about”. I admit. “Maybe it would have made things easier”.

“My family would call that ‘taking control of your own press’”, Brandon leans against the wall. Most people wouldn’t detect the note of damage hidden within his tone. But I’m not most people.

“Do you do that, then? Take control of your own press”. He doesn’t reply, takes a sip of water from his cannister. “I’ve seen the comment section, Brandon. It’s brutal”.

“It is what it is”.

“What it is, is bullshit”.

He bristles. “What’s the alternative?”

“Fight back”.

“Oh, of course. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that”. Brandon fiddles with the rim of his baseball cap. “It doesn’t bother me”.

“Coping with it isn’t the same as being unbothered by it”.

“I don’t engage. I don’t read it. Mostly. That’s how I cope”.

“Do you ever talk about it?” I’m having a hard time believing that Brandon’s dad wouldn’t be falling over himself to shut it down. “Your dad’s team surely has someone who…”

“I talk to people about my problems about as much as you do about yours, Di Rossi”, I recognise the end of a conversation when I hear one. “Back it up to high school again for a minute. I’m sorry that I didn’t do something about the way you were being silver medalled. I did see it. I just didn’t know it affected you. Was life... easier for you without me in it?”

I’m so surprised by the bluntness I almost forget to shake my head. “The only thing harder than being Brandon Carter’s best friend is being Brandon Carter”. He smiles a little at that. “I know that now. You can consider yourself forgiven”.

“You too”.

“You know getting into the fight wasn’t what I was originally apologising for”.

“Did something else monumental take place the other night?”

“You know it did. You know that I…” I grope for the right words.

“Used me as a jerk off sock”. Brandon deadpans so plainly that I can’t help giving a snort, and suddenly a grin splits both of our faces. “I vaguely recall. Why are you apologising?”

“It wasn’t fair of me”, my hand slips to his shoulder, “To initiate something. Not when I knew you had feelings for me”.

“We said we were moving past that”.

“We didn’t move very far”.

“Whose fault is that?” Has his voice always hummed like this? Why haven’t I noticed before? “Besides, who’s to say I still have feelings for you?”

“You don’t?”

“Sure I do. Frustration. Irritation. A general sense of exasperation”. Brandon counts off on his fingers. I’ve never noticed how big his hands were. “But I’m getting over it. That’s actually what I was doing before I found you”.

A flash of jealousy jolts through my body.What the hell?

“With the bartender at Marvin’s. Jacob”, he continues. “He and I hooked up. Or were mid-hook up, technically”.

“What do you mean, mid-hook up?” The thought of some other dude with his hands all over Brandon ignites fury inside me. “How long had you even known him for?”

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