Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Just tell me what to do,” I beg the waves, feeling the salty mist sting my eyes. “Tell me what to do. I’m lost. I’m scared. I’m alone. Goddamn it, Angel, just fucking tell me what I’m supposed to do.”
Hearing myself say his name brings the world to a halt.
The waves don’t roll in or rush away.
The wind doesn’t scream.
I think part of me knew I’m talking to my dead brother. It’s because he would know exactly what I should do right now. He would have all of the answers.
He’d also smack me right over the head for letting my professor dare tell me my paintings are only good for the waiting rooms of doctors’ offices.
He’d shove me in the direction of Adrian no matter what, even if it resulted in getting my heart broken, just because he always said to choose love over everything.
He would sit by me right now, even in his full suit and tie he always wore for work, and let his clothes get wet as he comforted me.
I close my eyes.
I can literally feel him doing just that: crouching next to me, fully-suited, and getting totally wet as he hugs me, his favorite red-and-yellow-striped tie flapping in the wind.
He doesn’t give a shit about anything other than what makes me happy. Everything else is noise. My dad. My professor. Whatever I’m doing in life—and whomever I’m doing it with.
Waves rolling in. Waves rushing away.
I open my eyes to the roaring darkness again. I don’t feel afraid of it. I feel like this scary, dark, empty beach just became my companion.
I think I have my answer.
“Thanks, bro.”
Chapter 18 - Adrian
I stare at my phone—and Quin’s recent text.
I’ve been staring at it for probably a year.
QUIN
Hey, Adrian. Tonight is my big summer showcase at the Rivington. I hope you consider coming. I’d love to see you, assuming I haven’t messed everything up by being so distant. Been thinking a lot. About you. About us. About all the things. I made my choice. xxoo
I keep staring.
He made his choice?
What the holy fuck does that mean?
Fast-forward to the evening, and I’ve got on my best outfit, complete with a suit jacket and freshly shined shoes. I’ve never been to an art exhibit thing, so I’d better look the part.
Whatever that part is.
What is my role, for that matter? His supportive friend or supportive boyfriend? Do I touch him when I see him, or just stand back and greet him like a fucking usher? I’m so damned confused. You made a choice about what, Quin??
I stand outside the dome-shaped exhibit hall, watching the crowds gathering by the doors, then entering a few at a time. I see some fancy dresses and ball gowns. Others are dressed in polo shirts and jeans. One guy is in a loose open shirt and sandals. I guess there isn’t really a dress code like I expected. Again, never been to one of these things. But I’d rather dress up too much and make a decent impression than to arrive at Quintin’s big art show looking like a frat boy who just woke up after a long night of upside-down keg chugging.
“Psyching yourself up to go in?”
I glance to my side. Kent’s arrived. He’s in a tank top with a loose button-down shirt over it, partly open, and a pair of slacks with a belt, plus sneakers. His outfit doesn’t make any damned sense.
But that’s Kent for you. “Where’s your boyfriend?” I ask him instead of answering.
“Jonah’s inside already. Told him I’d meet him here. Long day at the Blue Coral,” he adds with a smirk.
“Clearly. I can still smell the fryer on you.”
“You can?” He sniffs himself with a frown. “I can’t.”
“You’re nose blind. Didn’t you shower?”
“Of course I—Hey, you’re deflecting!” he says with a funny look. “Why are you standing out here like a lump on the curb? Are you scared about going in there?”
“Nope.”
He glances at my hand. Or more specifically: what I’m holding. “Those for Quin?”
“Of course they are.”
“When’s the last time you talked to him?”
I sigh. “Well, you know the whole story. I took him for Desert Moon breakfast tacos. Dad showed up and ruined it. Quin was overwhelmed and needed space to figure things out. Then he invites me to his big show tonight.” I let out a sigh. “I don’t know what I’m facing in there, Kent.”
He puts a hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Whatever you face, know that you’ve got myself, Jonah, Mom, and Skip all by your side …”
“Thanks.”
“… as well as every horny guy in there you’ve turned down who are still politely awaiting their turn,” he adds.
I punch him in the arm for that. He laughs, then nurses his arm, having underestimated my strength as usual. Then we continue to just stand there across the street from the Rivington, faces blank as stone, unmoving.