Page 5 of Rocking the Receiver
We’ve always had a peculiar relationship. Nobody gets where our instant bond originated. My dad once confessed that Tim used to change my diapers and was always protective of me while still giving me shit. I suspect it was brother dearest’s way of getting in Dad’s good graces since Tim’s not a fan of Victoria, but accepts that she makes our dad happy. Also, we both live under the same roof while the other siblings fled the nest years ago… as if we needed an excuse to get even closer.
I usually play along with his teasing, but today isn’t the usual. That said, as much as I resent my brother for belittling me in front of his friend, I can only agree with the resemblance to some extent. Strawberry blond. Big eyes. Long lashes… I should have noticed it sooner. And I can be just as sassy, except when my brother’s best friend is facing me, apparently.
“Nice to see you again, Elliot. I’m Rupert, remember?” He offers me his hand to shake. As if I’d forgotten him! I’m too shell-shocked by hearing his voice for the first time, and how my name rolled off his tongue, to do anything. Why doesn’t he sound British? Why does he keep staring at me like that? Why didn’t he hesitate and figured out who I am so easily? Who am I kidding? I’m the only one with fair hair and the youngest of the tribe by five years. “It’s been a while.” He remains there, his hand extended, but I don’t reply, so he slides his hand into his shorts pocket. “Good to see you again.”
I’m being rude, but I can’t help it. I follow his movement, only my eyes linger a second too long on his crotch. My dick twitches inside my preppy shorts, and I will myself to think of something boring to save myself from embarrassing myself in front of them.
My brain short-circuits back to this awkward reunion.
Rupert purses his lips. “You sure have changed since I last saw you.” The back of my wet neck stiffens, regardless of my efforts to overanalyze his words and tone. “Guess I’ll see you at dinner in a bit.” And with that, the handsome devil turns around and enters Samuel’s room across from mine, giving me a perfect visual of his round, toned, and lickable derrière before my brother closes the door behind them.
With him gone, I recover the ability to move and shake my head in disbelief.
Pathetic fuck! This is so uncharacteristic of me. I’ve never been tongue-tied before.
Fleeing the scene, I gnaw at my lips, unable to get over my reaction and lack of manners until I remind myself that I’m seventeen years old; why would they be frazzled by my awkwardness?
Why are you getting so worked up over nothing?the angel on my shoulder tries to reason.
It’s not nothing, it’severything, Elliot. The guy you’ve been lusting over for years. Because of his looks. Because of Tim’s stories about him. Because of your belief that the man is gay, even though you’ve heard about the woman he shares his life with.My inner demon is pretty convincing.
“Great job, dumbass!” I grumble to myself for screwing up our first encounter. Then, I head straight to Mom, as if being around her would magically help. It’s a shame that busying myself with our guests doesn’t alleviate my frustration either.
My intention was to show Rupert that, despite our age difference, I am more mature than other teenagers. Otherwise, he’ll never cave, but I’ve just proved the exact opposite.
There’s no way I’ll allow that first impression to be permanent.
The warm eveningair is filled with the scent of grilled food and fresh vegetables. My family and our closest are gathered around the large rectangular dinner table. We’ll see the rest of the guests tomorrow afternoon.
The sun is just beginning to set, casting a golden glimmer over everything. By the time I finished dinner prep with my parents, I thankfully managed to put on a poker face. The one I’ve perfected over the years to hide my true self from the outside world. I realize I’ll have to reveal some of it if I want to seduce Rupert. I mean, I’m 99.9% sure he’s closeted, but that doesn’t imply he’d be interested in me. One step at a time.
Mom passes the salad bowl to me, and I scoop a generous portion onto my plate, trying to focus on the fresh greens instead of the prickling sensation of my big brother’s eyes on me. The fact that he’s across from me and next to Rupert doesn’t help my case. This time, I make a point of not looking at my favorite British person. Who cares if I come off as rude again? Well, it’s either that or ridicule myself for acting like a lovesick puppy towards a man who I don’t know from Adam.
For his benefit, we mostly use English at the dinner table, even if Rupert said he understands French without being able to speak the language. Because of the audience, I refrain from suggesting to tutor him in French kisses. After all, considering how inexperienced I am in the men’s department, I might be the one in need of guidance. You can only learn so much from porn, and thanks to my vivid imagination, I haven’t needed it since our guest took center stage in my fantasies.
“Pass the dressing, please,” I say to my sister, Manon, who hands it to me without looking up from her phone. Calling her out on it burns my tongue, but I’m not that kind of person, and my parents don’t seem to mind at the moment.
I drizzle some homemade vinaigrette over my mixed salad, then turn my attention to the guests. Claire, my brother's fiancée, is chatting animatedly with my parents about tomorrow’s engagement party.
“So, Claire, tell me again, how did you and Tim meet?” Rupert asks, his mesmerizing eyes boring into hers.
The fuck?
I squirm in my chair. Before Rupert got here, Tim shared that he has a friend who’s into some karma and sophrology bullshit—his words, not mine—so maybe what I interpreted as interest or curiosity is his way of analyzing people, reading their souls.
Claire grins, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, it’s a long story, really.” That Rupert must have heard already, but whatever, since he asked… “We met at a mutual friend’s wedding about two years ago. He was the best man, and I was a bridesmaid.”
I tune everyone out, glancing at Rupert. Observing. Dissecting. Coveting.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Tim glaring at me. He hasn’t said much to me since we sat down. Somehow, I can feel his silent judgment. He must be pissed about my rude behavior earlier.
Mom interrupts my thoughts. “Are you excited to give the toast tomorrow, Elliot?” she asks, her voice warm and inquisitive.
I open my mouth to speak, but Tim beats me to it, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Just make sure you get your voice back, alright, Puss in Boots?”
My cheeks burn, but I chuckle, playing it off. “Don’t worry! I’ll keep my quirks in check.”
Rupert gives my brother a playful nudge. “Oh, come on, Tim, give the kid a break. We caught him off guard is all.” I nod, grateful for his intervention; granted, being called a kid makes my temper flare, and I will myself to keep quiet.
