Page 126 of Burn Bright
We were friends.
He just wanted to fit in, and my “buddies” wanted to usetheXander Hale for clout. They would try to get him to take shots and film him. His dad is a recovering alcoholic, so yeah, Xander being caught with vodka underage is headline-worthy news.
Xander took the shot. His first taste of liquor, and I was there. It was my fault. I put him in that position, and I didn’t get him out fast enough.
I did make the guys delete the footage. The peer pressure kept escalating. I’ve never been afraid to sayno, to be a dissenter among a crowd, but Xander just…he did not want to stand out. His whole life, that’s all he’s ever done.
And I should’ve ditched the toxic social circle and kept him.
I just stopped inviting Xander around instead. To save him from those situations.
Being friends with guys I didn’t care for—that was pretty normal. At times I tried to find reasons to like them, to make it easier, but mostly, I was just keeping an eye on people I distrusted. It was a misguided attempt to protect my family while we were all at school together.
Maintaining superficial relationships with insufferable pricks—I’d say it’s a skill, but all it did was make me feel like shit.
Charlie and our father could probably do what I couldn’t. They have the stomach for it. Or maybe they have the right kind of impenetrable heart.
Hell, in Charlie’s case, he might not even have a heart to penetrate.
I look at Xander now, and I do miss the simplicity of what we had when we were younger. I miss sharing a bunk room at the lake house and tossing a foam ball up in the air while Xander talked about The Silmarillion from Tolkien for hours. Even the days he’d be sad and quiet, we’d listen to the rain beat against the windowpanes together and draw on an old Etch A Sketch. Passing it back and forth to add more gray lines to the picture.
A dick and nuts would end up somewhere. We thought it was hilarious.
Making him smile, just once, was the highlight of my whole summer. I loved him.
I’ll always love Xander.
A phone pings, and my heart jumps, thinking it’s Harriet. Only, it’s not my phone. Easton shoots up while reading the text. “Fuck, I have to go.”
“What?” Xander is about to rise out of his chair.
Easton puts a hand on his shoulder, telling him to stay. “My dad is here.”
“On campus?”
“Seems that way.” Fear—no, literalterror—has widened his eyes. He’s no longer unperturbed.
“You want us to go with you, man?” I ask him.
Xander is worried, halfway out of his seat again. “Easton?—”
“He just wants a tour of the business building. It’s better if I go alone.” He’s in a hurry, and Xander is partially standing as Easton sprints out into the hall.
“Fuck,” Xander curses, conflicted. He ends up lowering back down.
“His dad wants a tour at”—I check my Omega watch—“nine-thirty p.m. on a Monday?”
“I think it’s a power trip thing. His dad is so strict, he’s literally picked every single one of his classes for the semester. He’d probably have a conniption if he knew Easton was coming from a ‘useless’ board game club and not chess.”
Easton was a chesschampionat Dalton. I always wondered who’d win if he ever played Charlie. Very few people can beat my brother.
Xander starts packing up the game.
“We aren’t playing?” I sound dejected because I strangely am. Minutes ago, I was ready to run. Somewhere, deep down, I want to play this game with him, and that desire surges so suddenly, so fucking powerfully, to the surface.
I want to be here.
“We can’t with only two players.”
