Page 124 of Burn Bright
He might look like a Cobalt, but he lived with the Hales for several months before graduating prep school. They took him in, even though his family’s home was only a street over in our gated neighborhood.
I should know him better than I do.
But I purposefully avoided Easton at family functions, at school when we’d attended Dalton together, and I wish I could avoid him now in college. It’s one thing to confront Xander’s cold shoulder, another to be stared down for an hour like I’ve put shaving cream on his pillow.
Xander scopes out the room, and when he catches my eyes, his whole chest sinks like a deflated balloon. He whirls around to leave.
Easton grabs onto his shoulder, then whispers in his ear for a long beat. With several words, he must convince my cousin to stay. I watch Xander nod a couple times and face my way again.
I imagine Easton said,Don’t let Ben ruin this for us. We’re already here. Let’s play the game.
I lean farther back in my chair as Quentin waves them over, unaware of the arctic frost he’s summoning toward me.
“Hey, guys, I’m Quentin, the club president. You can take a seat at this table.” He points to where I’m sitting. Xander looks everywhere but at me.
I might as well have evaporated into the air.
Quentin isn’t registering the tension, but his gaze does flit to the tall, tattooed bodyguard lingering in Xander’s shadow. “So that makes four,” he continues.
Donnelly readjusts the mic at the collar of his acid wash The Cure band tee. “Nah, I’ll be sitting this one out.”
Quentin nods. “Three is still enough players for a game.” He smiles excitedly like it was a stroke of fate that Xander and Easton walked right in.
More like shitty happenstance.
Or maybe I did something that caused this. My mind tries to reel for a split-second, but Xander’s presence is kicking me out of my head.
He’s hovering near the chair across from mine. I’m almost positive he’s about to ask Quentin if he can join a different game.
Then Easton sinks down in a chair, hands stuffed in his leather jacket. “Sorry we missed the first meeting,” he apologizes to Quentin. The cadence of his voice is flat and smooth. “We were in between this and LARPing Club, which meets on the same night. But we found out they only do post-apocalyptic.”
“It’s not really our thing,” Xander adds, rubbing a hand against the back of his tensed neck. He’s still standing. Still diverting his gaze from mine.
Quentin is beaming at him. Star-struck.
He must’ve recognized Xander the moment he walked in, but he isn’t mentioning it. I like that for my cousin. Instead, Quentin tells them he’ll bring over an attendance sheet and questionnaire to get a sense of their experience level for strategy games.
I already know these two will beat my ass at Catan—but if Harriet doesn’t text me in…I check my watch. Five minutes. I’m not going to stay long anyway.
Quentin leaves, and I watch Donnelly follow him, probably to have him sign a non-disclosure agreement. Xander and NDAs are one of the dynamic duos in the family. It’s moments like these that I appreciate not having obsessive, all-consuming fame. Novak is chilling by the doors, in eyesight but not glued to my heels.
I pop open my water bottle. “Why don’t you like post-apocalyptic LARPing?” I ask Xander as he finally sits.
He gives me a pointed look. “We don’t have to do this.”
Jesus. “It was an honest question, man.”
Easton has a casual arm on the back of Xander’s chair. “Pretending to survive a nuclear war and fight zombies isn’t fun. I’d much rather be drinking mead in a tavern with my Elvish brethren.” He makes geeky shit sound cool.
Xander’s lips quirk into a smile.
Yeah, they’re meant to be best friends. Maybe more than I ever was supposed to be, and I like that even more for my cousin. Xander would’ve lost me eventually, and Easton will stick around for him.
Speaking of friends. Where the fuck is mine? I glance at my phoneagain.
Easton hooks his sunglasses to his collar. “Everything okay?” I’m about to mention how Harriet is supposed to be here, but he adds, “Or is that another cousin you’re ignoring?”
I frown. “Xander is right here. I’m not ignoring?—”
