Page 8 of Totally Played
“Yeah, fuck no, he’s my brother.”
“Yeah, he said you’d say as much. Look, just be vigilant with hygiene then. Don’t share anything, wash your hands, sleep in separate rooms.”
I laugh.
“We’re brothers, not lovers. I have my own room.”
“I didn’t want to assume. For all I know, you two have the same bunk beds you grew up with in that apartment of yours.”
“Wouldn’t fit through the door,” I reply, and I swear he believes me. Fucking doctors, always so serious.
“Look, I’ll be fine, but how long do you think he’s out for?”
“At least the week. If he can pass a respiratory test before the game next week, he can play, but if it’s even down a little, he’ll miss that one, too.”
“Got it. Fluids, sleep, no hanky-panky, I can handle that.”
He throws me a look like he doesn’t quite believe me, but he’ll listen to me. If not, I know where he keeps the handcuffs he bought last year and they’re the kind that need a key to open.
“He’ll follow orders, if I have to cuff him to the bed to see to it,” I say, and he laughs like I’m joking.
I grab my stuff and head to the bodega to grab a few things before going home. I load up the cart with a dozen vitamin waters, a few packets of throat lozenges, a wheat pack, because the last time he used a hot water bottle it resulted in third-degree burns to two of his fingers and a month on the bench. I grab a few soups, simple cup ones that he just has to peel the lid back a touch and microwave. Pumpkin, chicken, and tomato, all his favorites. When I get home, I expect to find him lying in bed, asleep, or moaning miserably, but instead he’s in my underwear, pulling clothes out of the closet.
“Finally, where the fuck have you been?” he asks, and I hold up the bags.
“Getting you stuff. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“I don’t need all that crap, just a shower and a good eight-hour sleep.”
“The fact you’re in nothing but underwear when it would be lucky to be sixty in here says otherwise. Did you turn the heat off?”
“I wasn’t cold.”
“Clearly another indication that you’re sick. Doc told me you’re going to stay in bed, so get your ass in bed.”
“But I matched with a five. I can’t miss this date.”
“Reschedule.”
“You don’t reschedule a five. I’ll lose points.”
“Seriously, this is messed up. They can’t expect you to just be free when they tell you to be.”
“No, we put in our available days. I didn’t get a chance to update mine and Ashley matched.”
“You’re not going on a date tonight; you’re getting into bed.”
“Then you have to go for me.”
“What now?” He can’t mean what I think he does. Surely he doesn’t want me to pretend to be him.
“You can go in my place.”
Oh my god, he does. How high is his temperature?
“I’m not going on your date for you.” I laugh like it’s some big joke, only his deadpan expression tells me I am very wrong.
“Come on, we used to pretend to be each other all the time. I know I’m the better looking of us two, but we can fix your hair and fancy you up a bit. I’m sure you can pull it off. The restaurant is a sports bar so it will be darker, you’ll be fine. Here, throw this on.”
