Page 18 of Headstrong Like Us
Maximoff frowns at Xander. “Why not?”
He lets out a long sigh. “Uh, because I’ve gainedwaytoo much muscle working out with you two and boxing, and I’m sooverthe fucking paparazzi hounding me about it.” He weighs options on his hands, miming scales. “Either I don’t workout anymore or I don’t go out in public tomorrow, and you should be happy I’m choosing the second option.”
Maximoff gestures to his brother. “Temporary solution: you could wear baggier clothes.”
Xander grabs his Hot Pocket and slams the microwave. “No, I’m over it, Moffy. They can suck my dick.” He exits, and I force down a laugh.
Maximoff stares hard at the door his brother went through. “I can’t tell if he’s giving a middle finger to the media or if he’s hermit-ing.”
“The former,” I say. “And hermit-ing isn’t a word.”
He glares at the ceiling, then digs in his pocket.Someone texted him.He goes rigid. “They’re not Luna or Kinney’s tabloids.”
Shit.
Our eyes collide with the same realization. They have to belong to either his mom or his dad, and after their fight this morning, this isn’t adding up to anything good.
“It’ll blow by,” Maximoff assures me. “It always does. They can handle whatever’s happening.”
“Yeah.” My brows lift. “But what’s happening?”
He shakes his head, then freezes.
“What is it?”
“I bet they’re upset about the whole Luna-being-a-sex-addict rumors. That has to be it.”
We could ask, but I don’t like prying unless it’s needed. Their private business is their private business. Not mine.
“It’ll blow by,” Maximoff repeats with tough resilience.
3
FARROW KEENE
“OSCAR! FARROW! PAUL!”Fans and paparazzi shriek as we squeeze through pushing crowds, cameras flashing and glaring in the night.
None of us politely wave like we’re English dignitary or play “best friends” with strangers. It’s almost like we’re back at Yale together, bar hopping and staying unbothered by the drunk fuckers who try to start shit.
With no hassle, I unpocket a set of keys and unlock the storefront of Superheroes & Scones. Closing hours at the hybrid comic book coffee shop is the only time we can really consider going off-duty here.
We slip inside the empty store, and I lock out the screaming.
“Who’s Paul?” Oscar banters, tying a rolled bandana around his forehead.
I laugh into a widening smile, and Donnelly blows him a middle-finger kiss. I flip on the lights. Illuminating red and blue vinyl booths and racks of comics and merch.
But we go quiet at another sight.
Silver buffet trays line the café bar counter, and the unmistakable scent ofbreakfastclings to the air. My eyes burn with emotion.
Wolf scout.
My chest uplifts in a deeper breath. There’s no one else who’d surprise me with a catered spread of my favorite foods. He’s not even here yet, and he’s already made my 29thbirthday memorable.
Oscar smiles. “You lucky bastard.”
“Jealous?” My lips rise, and we both watch Donnelly near the catered trays.
