Page 22 of The Wrong Brother

“Catherine, spit it out. You’re killing me!”

“I don’t know how I’m feeling. My brain can’t decide if I should be giggling like a crazy person or panicking. His explanation made perfect sense. I completely agree that Pressley would sniff out a fake relationship and humiliate me for it. But I hadn’t counted on a little kiss feeling like so much!”

“Oooooooh, it was a good kiss? Do those things get passed down genetically, like athletic ability? Because if he’s anything like his brother—” she says and theatrically fans herself.

“It was only a soft peck. Just lips on lips, slow, not even any tongue. But it felt like I was Sleeping Beauty and my entire body was waking up after being out for a century.”

“Damn, thatisa good kiss.”

“How is a little peck the best kiss I’ve ever had? I’m not sure what to do with it. I wasn’t prepared for feelings. I mean, I knew I was attracted to him, but I was thinking of it more biologically than emotionally—like an itch that needs scratching.”

“Wait, since when are you attracted to Raff?” My sister wrinkles her brows at me.

“Well, there have been little inklings here and there, since we first reconnected at the beach. There’s the way he talks to me, how kind he is, the things we have in common. But after I saw him naked…”

She interrupts me, straight up screaming. “BACK UP!” She’s waving her hands in front of the camera, head down, hair shaking. “You saw Raff naked? When? He never said anything to me. And neither did you!” She glares.

“He’s a gentleman. He was saving me from embarrassment. It was the day you got that bad call to the ER. He went to shower and I barged in, meaning to give him a towel. It was unintentional and he was really nice about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. He’s a gentleman. You were mortified. AND?”

“And he has the single most perfect body I’ve ever seen in my life.” It feels like my face is made of lava. “I’m a mere woman, Mina. I don’t know how anyone could see that and not be the tiniest bit curious about what it would be like to be with him.”

“And yet I’m with him all the time and have never wanted more than our friendship,” she quips. I roll my eyes. I get it though. I feel the same way about Griffin. I tried, but he was never more than just a friend.

“There’s also the issue that Rafferty is always reduced to his exterior. He deserves more than that. I don’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of him offering to help me because all I want to do is make out and call it practice. What am I going to do?” I whine.

“You’re going to pull up your big girl panties and do what you planned to do, obviously. You’re going to get comfortable, not be weird about your attraction, become a convincing couple, and make Pressley regret ever hurting you. Why should it matter that you’re also going to get some extra good kisses out of the bargain? You deserve it!” She peers at me closely, her expression calculating. “Why does it have to be practice?”

“I told you, so we can convince Pressley.”

“No,” Mina shakes her head at me and I get a flash of irritation. I hate feeling like I don’t understand what’s being said. “You’re attracted to Raff. You get along. You like who he is. Why can’t it be more? Why can’t it be real?”

My stomach knots up, a confusing mass of butterflies and anxiety. This won’t do. I have to know where I’m going and exactly how I’m getting there. I can’t handle all the unknowns.

“That’s not what we agreed on. I asked Rafferty to help me. All of this was my idea. I’m not going to force myself on him and change the parameters of our arrangement because I’m just like every other woman he meets—lusting after his body.”

Mina rolls her eyes at me. “But you’re not—”

I interrupt her. “We agreed, Mina.”

“Fine,” she grumbles. “Should I keep this to myself?”

“If you wouldn’t mind. Rafferty mentioned something about trying it out on people who don’t know about the arrangement. We could have you guys be first so you don’t have to keep a secret from Griffin for very long.”

“I won’t tell him, then. We should make plans to get together this week, the four of us. Not only to get it out of the way but because it would be fun.”

“It would be. Thanks for talking me down, Meens.”

“Always! Oh, Griffin’s back and now I’m entirely overdressed. Love you!” She blows me a kiss and hangs up.

My mind is distracted. I keep revisiting the kiss. The feel of Rafferty’s lips on mine; the soft tickle of his beard against my skin; the warmth I felt while his sage green eyes were staring into mine. It’s a bit early to try to go to sleep but thinking about Rafferty gives me an idea. I turn onPsychand pull out my embroidery basket. I let thoughts of Rafferty guide my color choices. I listen idly to Shawn and Gus’ banter while I stretch my fabric in a small hoop and sketch a design. A couple of episodes go by and I barely notice I’m so engrossed in my work. There’s no way I’ll finish it tonight but I don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow and I’m enjoying stretching my creative muscles. I reach a good stopping point, my eyes growing heavy, and leave everything out to work on later.

* * *

I usually spend Sunday mornings cleaning my condo. I’m a tidy person and I do pick up after myself throughout the week, but I’m tired when I get home from work and uninterested in housework. On Sundays I like to start the day with spin class, a good breakfast and coffee, then I crank up the music and get to work. My current favorite cleaning album is Lady Gaga’sFame Monster. It was my middle school jam! There’s nothing like “Just Dance” to make changing bedding, deep cleaning the bathroom, and mopping floors more enjoyable. My condo is smelling fresh, the sun is shining through the windows and I’m sashaying around with my mop, singing my heart out. I can carry a tune but I am not a great singer. My mop doesn’t mind. Once everything is spic and span, I put my hair up and rinse off in the shower. I’m not going anywhere but I get dressed anyway. I don’t like sweating in my pajamas and in Hawai‘i, sweat is inevitable.

I consider seeing what Mina is doing but the answer is probably Griffin. I’d like to finish the project that I started last night for Rafferty, but I feel lame spending all day sitting on my couch. I mean, I’ll probably end up doing exactly that, but this is the portion of the day where I pretend to consider other options. It’s a little game I play with myself. I hear a text alert.

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