Page 2 of In the Long Run
So they’re not brothers.I’d ask more but Brand is laser focused on me.Unease crawls over my skin.
‘This is a bad … She’s … Yeti,’ Knox says, and I baulk.Men are the worst.I might not look my best right now, but I used my good dry shampoo to try to tame my shoulder-length waves after my run earlier.Excuse me for not being able to pull off the artfully windswept aesthetic that all the women on social media have going on.That doesn’t make me ayeti.
Brody must see my face, because he jumps in.‘Hold on.I’m Yeti.He’s not being a dick.My last name’s Bigfott.Brody Bigfott.Yeti’s a nickname.It’s an Australian Army thing.’
I retract my claws.
‘You should do it,’ Knox says to Brody, his cheeks scarlet as he turns back to me.‘Yeti’s better at all this than I am.’
Oh, damn.Is Knox shy?Or – even better – humble?Because that’s like catnip to me.Or it used to be before I realised I couldn’t trust my instincts.
‘Shut up, Forty, you’ll be fine.Look at it this way: your crappy day’s officially looking up,’ Brody says.
These nicknames are making my head spin.But before I get a chance to ask any follow-up questions, Brand closes the distance between us.It’d look suspicious if I grabbed Knox now, so I fluff my hair and act like tonight’s oversized grey jumper and leggings don’t scream ‘it’s laundry day’.
‘Watson.’Brand glowers at Knox, whose last name must be Watson?Brand’s hands curl over the top of the empty chair in front of him.The clam-shaped lights dotted across the ceiling make his Rolex glow, and the diamond in his signet ring winks at me.I swear people could ice-skate on that thing.
‘Brand,’ Knox replies.
The early June temperature plummets as they size each other up.If things get physical, my money’s on Knox.He’s got several inches on Brand and looks like he could bench press him.
‘How do you know each other?’Brand asks me.His tone’s conversational but there’s an edge to his words I haven’t heard before.
‘A mutual friend introduced us,’ Knox answers for me, which is handy because thinking on my feet is another skill I never mastered.
‘I wasn’t aware that you had any friends, Watson, especially not here in Melbourne.Not after everything …’ Brand says.
‘Did you want something?’Knox has stiffened next to me.His hand’s clasped tightly around his drink and the muscles in his jaw are working overtime.
‘I need to speak with Genny.’
‘Gen,’ Knox corrects.
‘Excuse me?’
‘She prefers Gen,’ is all Knox says and then he shocks me by leaning over and tugging my chair closer to his until we’re shoulder to shoulder.He smells delicious, all woodsy and masculine with a hint of something musky, maybe vanilla.If the situation was different – ifIwas different – I’d lean over and bury my face against his skin.I’m distracted for a second by the hope that Knox might be ticklish.By wanting to know what his laugh sounds like.
‘I know what my girlfriend likes.’Brand’s eyes flit towards me as if he’s gauging my reaction to being called that.He lifts his eyebrows and waits.
‘I’m not your girlfriend,’ I say calmly.‘We’re not seeing each other anymore.I’m sorry, Brand.’
Here’s the thing that doesn’t make sense.Aside from the fact that I’m nothing special, it’s been weeks since we broke up.And our dates weren’t anything exciting, just two people sharing meals and talking about stuff that doesn’t matter.I’d thought it was clear to both of us that our relationship wasn’t going anywhere.So much for my assumption that he’d forget about me in two seconds – get swallowed back up in his family’s real estate empire or go back to his playboy ways.
But if he’s not going to listen to me, maybe he needs to see that I’ve moved on, even if it is pretend.
‘Way to be uncool, man,’ Brody says.‘Gen’s here with Knox.Respect the bro code.’He laughs and mock-punches Brand’s arm.
Brand scoffs.‘No one respects Watson.’
Knox is basically made out of granite right now and I get the sense he’s holding himself back, biting his tongue.
‘I do,’ I say, taking a chance and reaching for Knox’s hand.He tilts his head towards me and our gazes catch.His eyes soften and I almost fall off my chair when he winks.I’d wager my weekly takeaway meal – one of the few extravagances I still allow myself – that he doesn’t wink often.
‘Genny,’ Brand pleads, ‘I just want to talk.Please?I gave you space like you asked me to.’
Knox rests his other hand on top of our intertwined fingers.‘Forget the bro code,’ he says, voice all gravelly andoh, mama.‘How about you be a good guy and listen to what Gen’s saying?’He glances at me, and I take my cue, looking Brand in the eye.
‘I’m staying.You can go,’ I say, and it’s an effort to stop my exasperation from flooding each word.I’ve got enough problems sleeping without adding a stalker to the list.
